The Sentinels the world moves on without a sound

@Deirdre

golden dust motes swirled about tachyon's prone figure, stirred only by the slanted and weak pylons of sunshine that split through the forest's upper reach. as the afternoon advanced he found himself seeking the pale pools of sunlight -- he moved quite a few times around the brim of the den until at last he was content of the warmth that radiated upwards from the stone. with a slow yawn he licked his lips and felt his eyelids tug heavily downwards -- there was truly nothing like the peace and quiet of donnelaith after chores were done...