the wild screaming weight

Time has stopped before us The sky cannot ignore us Despite the promise and cut of the incoming season, the Greenwing was alive with the hues of illustrious green and dazzling blue, surrounded by the usual snowy flare. From above, Deimos observed and patrolled, long plumage and feathers fanning outward for the opportunity of gazing upon the terrain and territory with keen observations and a way to calm a restless mind. He should’ve found some peace in all the circumstances lately – Ru safe and sound, busy striving to find a place for herself to carve out a new niche, Halo ready for Deepfrost’s lurking potentials, he also had much to occupy and hover around, like Evie’s impending birth in a few weeks time, and roaming notions about the bizarre weather.   Though the latter he could strive and bypass; the screams were less irritating now so much as a near constant. Lowering and banking along a thermal, his gaze narrowed along the swell of clouds nestled beyond the horizon as threats or warnings. Below though, frost foxes dotted the stream, ningos nested and rested along embankments, and luxere, glowing and pristine, were grazing and snatching upon whatever meals they could snag before winter’s edges took centerstage.    But there, in the distance, he could see something else maneuvering, sliding this way. the Resurrected Sword No one can separate us For we are all that is left