the prophet continues onward. he knew not if the heathens trailed him still; he had not seen signs of them in days.
this night, he had slept in a hole he dug from deep mountain snow, and he awoke with an inescapable thirst and a new stiffness to his joints.
when he looks at his reflection in the ice coating the creek, he is graying. he can see the pepperings of silver upon his chin. he is aging, he is rotting from the inside out — he did not think god would allow this!
but god is always testing. always creating diversions, and he will not be able to run forever. he must form a plan. for now, he hangs his head between his elbows, and prays in silence.

he hadn't noticed her, at first; he had not broken his prayers, not until the whiff of something sweet came to his nostrils.
girl. woman. no, not quite woman. not quite child either. he had never seen anything quite like her.
she whacks her skull against the ice like a braindead, prehistoric bone-crusher. his instinct is to correct. to — help. you are going to hurt yourself, bambina, he slinks over on long black limbs like a great reaper. his claws, overgrown, sharp-edged; perfect for cracking the ice just well enough for her to drink with a quick strike of his paw. is this what you wanted?

you should, child. the reaper watches as she begins to take slow laps from the current. you are much too young to let your life be wasted.
too young, too young; as his own children had been. his eyes flicker as a burning memory passes him by. and you are much too young to be concerned with such things.
turning, now, to face her. their gazes meet and his pupils dilate with a surge of hunger. do you ever look at the stars and wonder if there is more out there beyond them?

the fear radiates from her skin like the heat of midsummer. he drinks from it.

not now, not now, not yet!

where is your family, bambina? hadn't they told her never to talk to strangers? his head tilts, crowlike, curious. enthralled. i'm sure they're worried by now, or will be soon. look at the sky, he points with the sharp cut of his muzzle. the sun is rising.

god has led you to me!

gone.
it stung, that soft, downtrodden confession. so young, so young. mine are, too. that is why i was sad. shaba. iris. wren. their faces are blurry in his mind, but he can still feel them.
but you should know that they are not really gone, cucciolotta, he leers, now, craning his neck toward her in a way that felt alien with its sincerity. you can still speak to them. would you like to learn how?

i will show you the way i taught my daughters to speak to their nonna, after she left us. for the first time, andras offers a smile, like the jagged cut of a dull knife.
he turns so that he may face the warmth of the sun, and encourages her to do the same. his shoulders straighten, his ears swivel, and after a moment, his eyelids flutter to a close.

let us pray;

Redeemer,

see this child standing before me at Your altar, this lost sister in dire need!

show her Your guidance. take her hand and give a message to those who reside in Your kingdom, those she has lost!

show to her the very same love that You have given to me. show to her that there is light in darkness. show to her that there is peace in chaos.

show to her that there is life in death.

the silence chills him. speak to Him, child. He is listening.

that's not true, andras tsks with a click of his tongue against the roof of his mouth. He loves His children. He would not have created you if He did not love you.
a soft breath, quiet and keening. but maybe He is trying to tell you something. maybe you have strayed from His chosen path for you, and He is trying to lead you back toward it with His silence.
his muscles jump and shudder with an excitement he can hardly contain. he had not felt a rush such as this in moons; too long, much too long. on the outside he maintains the wall of stone. is there somebody who you are jealous of?

her name was dinah.
and to you, she is a good example of godliness, si? the wraith chirps, voice made of gravel; one paw reaching for her shoulder in the way that a father might. perhaps you could learn something from her. learn the ways to obey Him. after a while, it will come naturally to you. the way it did for all of her kind. and it will benefit you. it will make you much happier, wouldn't it? to do as He wishes? his lips split into a slicing grin. to feel His love? to not hurt anymore?
she had hurt someone, she says. he quiets as his thoughts take him elsewhere. he thinks the devil has taken hold of her.

god brought her to him for salvation.

it must be frightening, that bloodlust, he nods solemnly. but you have a choice. you may embrace it, or,

you may free yourself from sin.