she had departed, as had her daughter, the dark tonravik. lasher alone remained, for even eismitte had forsaken him. he had attempted to return unto the glen, but his way had been barred, and tears poured from his eyes as he cried for entrance. but donnelaith had not opened for taltos, and so he had traveled slowly back toward the mountains that reared in memory of tartok.
a heavy spring rain found the strange-eyes druid mourning in the lee of a rocky crag, the scent of woolly ruminants heavy in his nostrils. but it was not for himself that he wept; no, the fragrance of hot salt that wreathed into the cold air was for all that he had failed to do, and for that lasher cursed himself.
presently, the man emerged into the rain, gaze alighting somberly upon the ruddy form of a youngling, wound through with earthen shades. the leaves brushed against his dark fur as lasher, struck with a sudden urge to divest himself of solitude, wended his way toward the young one.
taltos slowed to a halt, murkwater eyes watching the child, and that he was, despite his growth. but lasher did not know the true age of himself; he was at once both ageless and with the youth of a newborn child, and great sadness gripped him again, for that which had been lost him, and the unknowingness of siku's fate.
likewise, the sudden bird-flutter of his nerves carried his mind to donnelaith, and lasher closed his jaws around the word, whispering it into the gloom. 'twas loud enough for the other to hear, but taltos did not care. the things he deemed precious had escaped him, and the life that swelled his chest with breaths had lessened in its treasure to the glen-wolf.
you are alone? taltos tipped his head to his wary companion, breath rising in a plume from his maw. so unwilling was the dark one to be alone that he had even found satiation for his craving in the very presence of the reddish stranger, the chocolate sunset of his pelt bespeaking the blood-moon dance of the druids in donnelaith, from which he was locked.
Bheadh amháin a cheapann go mbeadh mac tíre a úsáid a srón roimh a dteanga.The words rolled from him with the same gravid note he had slurred toward the bear woman, idly hoping that this vagrant would show the same response, or simply leave him in terror.
the striking green that at times lit lasher's face now surged to the forefront of his gaze, and though his heart was buoyant, a sudden weakness gripped him and he sank to his ragged haunches in the trail before the boy. ní raibh a fhios agam labhair tú mianach, he breathed, dark ears folding back against his skull. it had been long years — too many for his count — since he had last heard the word of his secret heart spoken, and though unbidden, but perhaps expected, the swampwater eyes brimmed with tears that trekked slowly down his cheeks. briste mo chroí, ach a aimsiú mé go bhfuil sé deisithe i do láthair, taltos breathed softly, though dread thrummed along his spine at the very thought that the red-hued boy was of donnelaith, as he was.
Ach na daoine eile - nach féidir leo a thuiscint. Cad atá cearr leis an áit seo? Níl sé cosúil le mo chlann.