There had been an albatross to lead him here, flying far beyond its normal coastal haunts. Mesmerized by the bird, he'd followed. As he drew nearer and nearer, his stomach began to plummet. Each landmark became more familiar, each smell a memory. His heart lodged in his throat as he caught sight of the Boulder, devoid of wolves. Wait--
Devoid of wolves?!
He sniffed frantically around, looking for anyone--anyone. Naught to be found except for the scent of cat piss and feline carcasses strewn here and there, half-picked apart by vultures. The albatross settled near a relatively fresh mound of dirt, striding idly around the disturbed ground. Ears flattening to his skull, Zamael walked toward it, staring at the grave.
A doe, a dark-eyed sentinel. He stared at it for a very long time, and then stepped forward, waiting for it to flee. It did not. Stepped closer, and it moved away, but with the air of a guide, rather than one who flees.
Zamael didn't believe in anything beyond the physical, the tangible. For a moment, though, he could have sworn the deer was more than what it portrayed. A spirit, a friend.
The grayscale man followed the deer through the thicket, and then beyond--
The mountains--
The ice and snow--
He lost sight of her eventually, but he lost sight of himself, as well. This wasn't the bay, nor was it Broken Boulder, nor Sunfil or any of the tribes' domain. This was a world he'd never seen before, and it was full of promise.
A chance to start anew.
Devoid of wolves?!
He sniffed frantically around, looking for anyone--anyone. Naught to be found except for the scent of cat piss and feline carcasses strewn here and there, half-picked apart by vultures. The albatross settled near a relatively fresh mound of dirt, striding idly around the disturbed ground. Ears flattening to his skull, Zamael walked toward it, staring at the grave.
God, what happened?he asked, not knowing whether he spoke to the bird or himself but either way, aghast. Eris.
Where is everyone?Where's my sister? He had the sick urge to dig when movement near the edge of the Bracken Woods caught his attention.
A doe, a dark-eyed sentinel. He stared at it for a very long time, and then stepped forward, waiting for it to flee. It did not. Stepped closer, and it moved away, but with the air of a guide, rather than one who flees.
Zamael didn't believe in anything beyond the physical, the tangible. For a moment, though, he could have sworn the deer was more than what it portrayed. A spirit, a friend.
The grayscale man followed the deer through the thicket, and then beyond--
The mountains--
The ice and snow--
He lost sight of her eventually, but he lost sight of himself, as well. This wasn't the bay, nor was it Broken Boulder, nor Sunfil or any of the tribes' domain. This was a world he'd never seen before, and it was full of promise.
A chance to start anew.
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