Arrow Lake abbatia

Come, boy.

Arsenio spoke gruffly to his son. The voice on the air was a familiar one and it called out for help. Reyson’s name was on the Imperator’s tongue, as well. The Arche did not know what to expect from the Roman. Their last conversation had been less than polite. He had not liked how their relationship devolved. He had not liked the man he’d discovered beside him.

Two bodies raced side by side - Antigone and Arsenio, seeking to find the place where the Roman had called to them. Their race was to the lake to the east of the canyon. Reaching the place was enough to make the man’s lungs feel like they would burst.

When Arsenio arrived upon the scene, his eyes found Meadow first. He wished he had not brought his son to this bloodbath. Reyson was looking for cobwebs nearby, gathering what he could. The ice of his eyes traveled then to Germanicus.

What were you doing?

The Arche’s lip curled.

Look at her wounds, boy. Quick. He instructed of his child.

Antigone approached her, burning hot with disgust and horror. There was blood and muck everywhere. The man beside Meadow was not a familiar face, but he looked awful. What could a boy do to help this? What might stop the bleeding? He sniffed at her, hoping that she still breathed steadily.

Goosegrass, maybe. He might find some near the lake. The boy set off to find it, hoping that he could help enough to keep her stable. The webs that Reyson gathered would help. He would need to be quick.