The Sentinels gayatri

her words brought up the ghosts of the dawnlark fire. how many had perished, there? he had not seen shale again, and dawn had never been the same. what else had been lost? a fine shiver ran through him, and he nodded slowly, glancing around before returning his stare to hers. i understand, he murmured.

govinda shrugged. i have been wandering up and down the coast for a moon, now, the man responded, the emptiness of his travels apparent in his voice. i have no real home; wherever i get tired is where i stop and rest. he must sound like a sad-sack to this ethereal, youthful fae. or perhaps she was captivated by his words; perhaps he is the embodiment of a nightmare she has only heard about but not experienced herself.

wolves loved to hear about such things, but to live it was another matter altogether.