August 23, 2022, 11:48 PM
She spoke again, in that same tongue he did not know. She was neither Greek nor of the common folk; her language held a mystery he found himself curious to unravel. To know, as he knew the Weald, and as he had begun to know the secrets of the shadows, the listening of the hunt.
His ears remained upward, tipped forward to hear her.
It was there he caught a word.
He blinked, surprised he had understood her - before he realized she had chosen their common tongue.
A strange disappointment filled him. This did not linger long. Melaneus had not scared her away. Rather, she bade him come.
She was bold, to command him as she did! Perhaps if he were a different boy he might have laughed at her or chided her, stuck out his tongue and refused. But he was Melaneus, his mother’s child, his father’s son, and he was not a different boy.
Melaneus considered her. And when he had done so enough, he rose until he crested the hill, revealing the full size of his heavy paws and ever lengthening legs.
He drifted downward to meet her.
His ears remained upward, tipped forward to hear her.
It was there he caught a word.
He blinked, surprised he had understood her - before he realized she had chosen their common tongue.
A strange disappointment filled him. This did not linger long. Melaneus had not scared her away. Rather, she bade him come.
She was bold, to command him as she did! Perhaps if he were a different boy he might have laughed at her or chided her, stuck out his tongue and refused. But he was Melaneus, his mother’s child, his father’s son, and he was not a different boy.
Melaneus considered her. And when he had done so enough, he rose until he crested the hill, revealing the full size of his heavy paws and ever lengthening legs.
He drifted downward to meet her.
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RE: arts - by Melaneus - August 23, 2022, 11:48 PM