Horizon Ridge God, let me lose my mind

She ran and the earthstalker followed closely behind. Komodo had seen when she entered the wooded area and interrupted his foraging — just glimpses, but Komodo had seen enough to know she did not suffer the same as all other things did in the winter. Abandoning his responsibilities, Komodo drifted behind her, haunting her frenetic movements from the shadowed places. She was flashes of argent against the innards of the island, giving off an incredibly restless aura — it was enough to make the santana’s stomach lurch. Every single thing in this world experienced varying degrees of apprehension and stress every now and again, so he was not one to pass judgement… but when she collapsed against a tree and broke down in the saddest tears he had ever seen, Komodo began to concern himself with the salubrity of the woman’s soul. The devil must be in her

The earthstalker wasn’t entirely sure what to make of the woman’s display, but there was an emotion that ignited in his gut and licked hotly at the pit of his throat: a strange sense of god-fearing empathy. Komodo didn’t know what had happened to her, but he didn’t have to know; hell, even he had been there himself. Instead of knowing, he simply wanted to heal her every hurt. The woman seemed so small, so fragile and frail — in need of the gods’ protection — and he had the tools to make her whole once more. 

The man emerged halfway from the shadows, something reminiscent of a specter. He stood for a moment before pressing his haunches against the coastal earth, looking down upon her with a heavy-handed gaze. There was time for softness and gentility, and this was not it. Komodo approached the crying women with serious intentions, for was it not a god-given commandment to heal the shewolf? Was this not his singular purpose in life? The toxicity in her soul was not something to be made light of. Komodo exhaled sharply, whuffing to gain her attention — and just watched, wanting her to know she was not alone.