The Sentinels our godless mettle [m]

silently tachyon observed the others draw near -- he altered his posture as each approached, a gentle and submissive beat of his tail given as the wolves drew in a small congregation. he noted the grisly skull not far from lasher -- the sightless eyes in particular bothered him and he felt his stomach clench as he stared into wednesday's unseeing sockets. he noted the coldness that emanated from both lasher and dante, and the icy exchange that followed -- tachyon would have withered if such an expression was used in his direction, and unwilling to experience it the pale wolf hung back.