Dragoncrest Cliffs dominus vobiscum

the beacons had been lit. help had been summoned. now, they would wait.

lafayette padded through the ancient trees, towering so far above him, to stand at the edge of the cliffs. the wind sent his fur flying, like flame disturbed. he remained still, seafoam eyes set on the horizon.

he meant to honor those lost.

cayetano, struck down by a poisonous fish. that face set in rigor mortis would never leave lafayette's mind's eye.

val, of course. his papa. he felt his throat thicken at even the thought of that wolf's absence, and moved on.

pepper—oh, pepper! the tears that had come to his eyes spilled over suddenly, and he bent low, the sobs doubling him over.

his ritual was cut short as he mourned sapphique's latest casualty and feared for their future;

for he could not bear the thought of burying his cousin, auntie or mother in the same way.

his brain did not compute; his heart would not withstand.

the cacophony of the wolves had not gone unnoticed.

he followed the goings-on from the great ethereal space above, his attention like that of a hungry god.

and wasn't he close enough?

there came the wailing of something terrestrial; cresting low among the currents, he hovered a moment before landing with a plomph of feathers.

a head tilt—hungry, black specks for eyes.

it was not in sobeille’s nature to afford empathy, yet even she was nearly moved by Lafayette’s show of grief.

coming to a halt as the wind shivered through the sequoias leering above them, sobeille’s eye was drawn to the winged shadow landing noisily in the branches above.

dey will come. sobeille assured, gaze glinting with hardness. we will get maman, chani, an’ tante back.

left unsaid was what sobeille would do to the pirates when it came time to raid the raiders.

lafayette was not like sobeille or shadess—steely and resolved in the wake of violence. his strength came from love, and the same emotion that brought the tears from his eyes would be the one that would allow him to tear flesh, when the time came.

sniffling, he sat up and looked toward his sister, giving her a somewhat shaky nod. i know, he replied. we have to. 

they didn't have a choice, otherwise. 

the noise from above caught his attention, and he tilted his head to find the avian onlooker, watching them with an impassive expression. almost the polar opposite of the pale bird that had graced his dreams on the long night; he hoped that wasn't a bad omen.

sobeille, lafayette asked, not shifting his gaze from the vulture, what did you see, when we slept on de island? who came to you dere?

of course they had to. sapphique could not thrive if it was split into two.

sobeille fell to a besieged silence, her gaze following lafayette’s to the spectre in the tree.

what had she seen?

FORSAKE ALL OTHERS erupted a snarling voice; she nearly flinched, tearing her gaze from the vulture to the contemplative face of her brother.

darkness.

his brow drew tight in concern. just darkness? he asked. maybe there was a lwa of darkness; he did not know. he knew sobeille was fierce, and sometimes violent, but to be met with just the void. . .

i saw a bird, lafayette went on. his eyes cut to the vulture—or where it had been, since it decided to depart the scene in between their remarks. not dat bird. a white bird, wit' great big wings. an' de stars, too—so many of dem against de night sky.

darkness, too—but his had been augmented, at least, by those pinpricks of light.

his upper fangs sank briefly into his lower lip in contemplation before he turned to sobeille and asked, what d'ye t'ink it meant, sobeille? de darkness.

he still hadn't quite figured out his own vision.

sobeille imagined what Lafayette must have seen. a white bird could be anything from stork to albatross — but if she had to guess, she wondered if it were not a quieter creature of regal strength; a ptarmigan in winter plume.

a sigh hedged between them, her gaze flickering to where his rested. the vulture was gone.

a white bird with great big wings streaking across an endless blanket of indigo; her wing-feathers blending into far reaching horizons.

beautiful. and so very unlike sobeille’s vision.

it means it be inside of me. she answered matter of factly, immediately regretting the baldness. she wished she knew what her maman had seen upon the thoughstone during her coming of age.

de bird — was it a bird of prey? an’which direction did she fly?

inside of me. darkness, that was. within his sister.

he stared at her for a long while—abstracted enough that he nearly missed her questions altogether, and it was only after shaking himself back to reality was he able to answer them.

ah. . .no, i don't t'ink so, lafayette replied, a bit tongue-tied. i donnae remember where she flew or why—actually, it was a young boy turned to a bird, flyin' across de stars.

he wished he had ruminated on it more. with everything that had happened, he'd barely had the time to breathe, let alone examine his dreams.

lafayette stifled a yawn, shoving down the turbulence he felt suddenly in his throat. i'm tired, sè mwen, he told sobeille. he padded off, adding, over his shoulder, bòn nwi.

he'd look to the stars as he went, seeking answers.

<3

what did his drawn silence mean? sobeille probed the quiet with a thumbing mind, disguising the flutter of disquiet moving through her.

eventually an answer came; he’d dreamed of a young boy transformed to bird, arcing across a sky made brilliant by stars. a boy turned to girl? did she understand correctly?

before much time had passed, her brother stifled a yawn. sobeille’s gaze flicked over him, now abstract herself — marionette was a jealous creature, and she doubted the lwa would appreciate her discipline divining the meaning of another lwa’s presence.

bon nwi. sobeille answered, stalking off towards her den where the to’lang she’d made hummed quietly in the dark, awaiting divination.