Broken Antler Fen When you were here before

no details. just a name, and the inevitable: dead.

every man born to this world owed it but one thing, and that was his eventual death: even then, arcturus struggled to accept that one of his own could have fallen.

his birthmate, his brother, his blood; wayward as the bruin could be, arcturus never imagined him as anything but what his minds eye held of him: enormous, hale, everlasting.

not... dead.

a pulse began to pound under his eyelid. grief came forward in dark, spidery legs, enclosing his heart. all arcturus could supply in answer was the long exhale of a soul severed -- tomorrow, he would make up his mind.

tonight, he mourned.