DEIMOS
The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates
The thunder of the drums dictates
Rolling his hound eyes at the dramatics achieved over the bond (couldn’t she have just stood on hind legs?), he persisted in his own notions of retrieval. Nose to the ground, absorbed in the task, the trail centered around stacks of weaponry and shields, before he found another piece crumpled up beneath shelving, along the hardwood floor. Found another one he mustered. Tracking further, he found nothing more. Headed your way, and perhaps they would be able to put the puzzle together.
Parchment lodged carefully between front teeth in hopes of not ripping or destroying it further, he met her along the main hall, shaking his head at the way the whole bizarre notions had been distributed. Why the garbage? Why tear them all out at all?
Shifting back into human form, he glanced at the ones Ru had already put on the desk, brows furrowing, beginning to unfurl the bits and pieces of found notations, hoping for a pattern. “What do you think?” Had someone been hunting something they didn’t want others to know about? A proficient bounty?
Parchment lodged carefully between front teeth in hopes of not ripping or destroying it further, he met her along the main hall, shaking his head at the way the whole bizarre notions had been distributed. Why the garbage? Why tear them all out at all?
Shifting back into human form, he glanced at the ones Ru had already put on the desk, brows furrowing, beginning to unfurl the bits and pieces of found notations, hoping for a pattern. “What do you think?” Had someone been hunting something they didn’t want others to know about? A proficient bounty?
The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead
The rising of the horns, ahead
