Horizon Ridge iii: something wicked (m)

the putrid scent of blood is rank and steals across the air; muddying her scent despite how ingram desires to take it in so he might know it again. i am death, she speaks to him and a shiver slithers down his spine; though it was not founded in fear. instead, a sort of reverence steals through him. it wasn't exactly a 'yes' but it hadn't been a 'no' either; and though ingram didn't necessarily a man of piety ...he is wont to believe in such things. after all, praimfaya had been a sort of leading spirit to her people: a reincarnation of a commander. merrick had mentioned bear gods during the brief time ingram had spoke to him during his joining of ursus.

believing that this ursidae before him was a god was not so far a stretch.

excitement titters in his chest and winds its way up his throat; drawing in and from her power which radiates from her in waves.

are you afraid?

the answer should have been that he was, but searching within himself, ingram could not find fear. how could any wretched creature capable of committing matricide be afraid of anything?

he had fears, of course; but they were not so much of physical things like death or other predators but things that took a mental strain on him like abandonment ( despite his own willingness to abandon rivenwood and his family there without so much as a peep ). death would come for him one day, but not anytime soon, he is confident.

no. ingram replies, tail flicking against his haunches. he feels foolish then wishing he had something more substantial to give her in offering than the antler he'd found. it is not much, Wanlida, he begins; the trigedasleng word for 'bringer of death' passing his lips as a grand title ( for it was, once; he can feel this with a stirring in his soul that he cannot explain ). but i gift you this antler. he'd intended to keep it for himself but should she accept it: he would part with it.