Arrow Lake verdunkeln

children would be born to diaspora, but still their numbers had fallen, had dwindled. the gargoyle performed a grim patrol, gathering the stale scents of those who had disappeared. and while he was not angry, disappointment rose like sorrow in his throat.
he paused alongside the lake to drink, heading off soon thereafter to the eastern borders. a lone shadow, he traveled without complaint, in a quietude marked only by twittering birdsong and the sound of his own steps. perhaps things easier upon the mind could be found elsewhere.