this is the reckoning
Darkness descended as the flickers and beams of latent glows finally moved on – stirred by something else, intending to settle elsewhere. His eyes followed their pathways and glimmers until they faded, and they were left on the outskirts of torches within the expanse. Otherwise, the beast remained perfectly still; content in the folds of shadows. Except for what these signified and meant, encircling and pervading the threshold of LongNight. That too would fade – but what else it would bring curled and coiled over his being, a tighter clench of a canine’s jaw unfurling in the Stygian outlines.
But then there were suggestions, of hunting, of stalking, of preying again – restocking the supplies of Halo. That Deimos had experienced much more outside the world of these winter eaves was true; knowledge and sanctities to be shared, rather than shattered. He didn’t know this Henry individual, but if he was a Natural, Noah would be fine. We can. Wherever the fellow councilman insisted; Deimos had never been picky about his raptorial range. His gaze scanned the horizon, not to see anything, but to envision the woods, the meadows, the grasslands, he’d once pursued and immersed within: the faint rise of knolls, the beatific oasis, the clearings around water and dream fish settled beneath abundant shores and greenery. Things he never thought he’d lose. The Grounds’ fields and forests have decent game – deer, turkeys, occasionally some moose. Smaller fowl. A pause segmented, some quiet, solemn pondering, before he added. Beware any land sharks.
But then there were suggestions, of hunting, of stalking, of preying again – restocking the supplies of Halo. That Deimos had experienced much more outside the world of these winter eaves was true; knowledge and sanctities to be shared, rather than shattered. He didn’t know this Henry individual, but if he was a Natural, Noah would be fine. We can. Wherever the fellow councilman insisted; Deimos had never been picky about his raptorial range. His gaze scanned the horizon, not to see anything, but to envision the woods, the meadows, the grasslands, he’d once pursued and immersed within: the faint rise of knolls, the beatific oasis, the clearings around water and dream fish settled beneath abundant shores and greenery. Things he never thought he’d lose. The Grounds’ fields and forests have decent game – deer, turkeys, occasionally some moose. Smaller fowl. A pause segmented, some quiet, solemn pondering, before he added. Beware any land sharks.
DEIMOS
