The Sentinels metanoia

born of sand and sea, but eyes held fire.

he pressed through the deadwood, fur tangled with twigs and leaves. the roar of ocean called to him, but the cool of greenery soothed his soul. new life budded where old life fell. this was his purpose cast out in nature — a figure of aspiration beheld in inferno sight.

lips parted to whisper a hymn of woodland and growth. his heart fluttered, his face flush.

aged bones gave a pop as he steadied himself through the sentinels, the cry of sea grew closer still.

Leaving behind the jovial laughter and squeals of children learning to play, she roved along the shoreline to where the gulls circled and cried out, where gannets dove toward the ocean and split the story blue surface and emerged moments later. The cliffs nearby were home to several species of shorebirds, jousting for top nesting spots along the craggy wall that faced the ocean. 

Solveig watched as a fox made off with a fledgling gannet that had crash-landed too far inland. Easy pickings for a clever animal patient enough to wait for one of the inexperienced birds to make a mistake. It dashed off into the forest, disappearing from sight. She might have continued on, if not for the faint hum she heard. Intrigued, she waited, cupping her ears forward to see if she might catch another verse.

tongue mumbled words of life and restoration. paws heavy as he walked, heart light with faith.

nymphs would see to the creation of his desires. dead wood become new, nursed into life by the attendants of nature.

his dream reflected in eyes of hellfire as he steadied his spirit. a breath taken in, exhaled into vaporized wonder.

lips sealed as wind swept by like a whisper in the ear. and he knew then that he was not alone.

he slowed his pace so that unseen company might join him. his figure welcoming, his soul echoing a cheerful warmth.

A quiet pause in the lilting melody enticed her forward and into the shadows, dappling her dove-down coat. It takes only a moment for her to spot the other, first by the gleaming embers of his eyes, in spite of the prominence of his figure in the forest. The breadth of his chest and width of his jaw speak of good genetics, his unkempt coat hanging with knots and dreads speak to her more of his ability to embrace life, rather than frittering away time with grooming. Fairy-knots, she thought. Perhaps he was a spiritual creature and even if he wasn't- the fae certainly seemed to like him. 

"Hael og sael," She greeted with a dip of her head. Words she did not expect him to understand, though her tone and air, she trusted, would communicate it as an amicable greeting. "You have a beautiful voice," Her voice was warm, impressed, issuing a compliment in earnest.

his company was found in the form of woman. her coat spoke of washed earth, her eyes of evergreen. she beheld the glow of motherhood, and he thought her one of the epimelides — a shepherd, a protector. 

his spirit sung to her as she spoke foreign tongue, his eyes those of an inquisitive student. she complimented him, and his heart thrummed in exalted delight.

"the spirits have blessed me with such a voice," he revealed as wind swept by to dance between them. "i am thankful you find it pleasing."

it was not of his own being that he sung the songs of enlivenment. he was endowed by nature, his lifeblood bonded to earth and sea.

The spirits. She wondered which spirits he might have meant- as far as she knew, those who believed in spirits believed in a great many, which was not so different from her own beliefs of many gods. She found she often preferred the company of those who worshipped many, who saw delight in nature and in recognizing earth magic for what it was above those who had concentrated all of their faith on just one deity. 

"Would you sing again, for me?" She asked as the dried leaves whirled; a rustling rattle that lifted and fell, heightening her anticipation.

she requested his voice again, and he responded with a silent nod.

he was not unfamiliar singing for an audience, and felt an honored thrum play on the strings of his heart that she thought his voice pleasant.

lips parted to breathe in the swirling air, and his eyelids fluttered shut to feel the earth shift beneath his paws.

voice came in a melody, the crackle of bark and chirps of songbirds joined him in harmony. he sung for peace, for fresh breath, for still waters.

he sung for her, but his voice reached out for unseen listeners as well. for the spirits that rest among the tarnished woodland, and for the souls that would come to rest here too.

She was a captive audience while he sang, listening to the bearlike man's voice and swaying slightly as she did so. She had always found music soothing, and while she could carry a tune, she knew she herself was not a talented singer- not like Barbatos. He shared his voice with such willingness too, she found it reassuring to find someone so comfortable in their skin that they could sing to a complete stranger, and with such tenderness. 

When he finished, she woofed gratefully, thumping her tail against the ground as if to applaud. "Well done, well done," She commended him truthfully, with a bob of her head. "Ahhh, I love to hear it- to hear singing. My husband does not sing to me, not even when I beg it of him," She said with a faint laugh. "And if my pack thrived as well it should someday, I would have you in it and all you would ever have to do would be to sing," She mused. As it was, the pack was so small- they could not afford to invite an individual who offered nothing but song. "I feel there is more you can do than just sing though, yes?" She admitted, making note of his impressive physique with a sweep of her eyes.

his song finished, and he steadied his lungs as they expanded to drink in the air around him. he gave a grateful glance towards his company as she applauded him, a warmth reaching his soul in her cheering words.

she spoke of him singing just for her, and he let out a gentle chuckle. in a world without any worry, he might one day be able to fulfill her request.

but there was more to her than just far-off wishes. "you have keen eyes," he let out in a jest at her notice of his physical appearance. "i'm a practiced bard, but i also fancy myself as a teacher and mender." though he held basic knowledge of herbs and exterior injuries, he was a man aware that some wounds ran deeper than the flesh. "though my most noteworthy title is as a parent," he revealed, a role in which they both might relate.

She, in light of all of her training, could not help but feel that there was some potential yet unlocked by one who was so naturally gifted, physically. She envied him for his build and would have wanted the same look for herself if she could have had any hand in her own design. But no matter how much training she had done, and how well she kept herself fed, she would never grow any taller or broader through her structure. She mourned for his lost potential as a guardian and warrior, trades seemingly so far down on his list of aspirations that they were omitted entirely. 

Instead, he was a healer and a mentor. Gentle-folk, she thought, and not the kind who might ever willingly give up the arts for combat. He might not even have to try too hard, she thought- he might shake the boldness from some wolves simply with his shadow. But she was distracted from her thoughts of what could have been when he mentioned his masterpiece- something that caused her eyebrows to raise in surprise. 

A smile pulled to her lips. "You have children?" She asked, rhetorically, hoping he might elaborate on his own.