fracture patterns

Deimos Back into the morning quiet, the hushed parameters of wooded confines, assembled in the masses of copses and shifting, changing leaves. Try as he might to render his movements completely into silence, the crackling, brittle banners below his feet gave him away; stark reminders of things he’d deigned to find, to exploit, mere seasons ago. Hunting could’ve been out of the question then, already granting the forest prey an audience, and he shouldered his bow, his quiver, back along his shoulders, sought to buy time, possible forgetfulness of younger, more foolish animals, along the Stonesong’s depths. The General maneuvered towards the soft, haunting melody, reveries of irreverence, like siren calls curling through his ears, against the perimeter of tree-lined embankments. Piercing eyes followed the wake of its sharp, honed movements, knowing the rocks and boulders underneath, the treacherous and tempting paths. On a warmer day, he could’ve intertwined amongst its masses with emboldened strength; but his gaze narrowed, flickering back over the runes of the groves instead. Zuriel, far more light-footed than he, merely slipped along the eaves, as if she were at one with the noble trees and the encroaching boughs. But then she spotted a familiar sight, the slightest hint of excitement in their connection, and he turned around to see her staring into a pool, water collected in a low spot, amongst soil and rocks, and he sighed. Not one of those damned puddles again – his experience last time had been with Loren, lengthy discussions in between glancing into the unknown and find it sharing things in return. Out of sight and out of mind Make everything alright So let the sky and sea collide Just not in our lifetime