Though he can’t see anything but shadows around him, Peter can feel the monsters at their heels, his heels. He ducks his head down, feet moving quicker, and bringing him closer to Amalia, then looks around, taking stock of the others who answered the calls, the damage they were taking. He recognizes most of them, a strange feeling for him, and tries to ignore the strange feeling of guilt at seeing them hurt.
The darkness that wraps around them does not scare him, but it does drive him even closer to Amalia, his hand on her shoulder. So he doesn’t lose her, if things get worse. Which they do.
Just not how he expects.
The creature (is it a creature? Can a thing without meat be called a creature?) is entrancing, in a way he can’t explain. It can’t be, it shouldn’t be, and yet he wants to touch it, just to stop his mind from trying to rationalize it. It’s even worse when it speaks, but he still steps forward, eyes wide. And the question barely requires any thought at all, a lifetime of loss making the choice easy.
”Life.” He answers into the wind, not offering any extra explanation, anything that hasn’t been asked.
Peter sticks close to Amalia, and says life is more important
PET
he is trying to tell you that there is some sort of shining star now buried deep inside him and he has to dig it out with a knife.
