Aamu
A snowstorm blew inside a wolf's eyes
And the frozen tears covered all the mountainsides
He yearns to reach out, to touch the wary animal, run his hands (cold fingers) over soft fur and strong, warm muscles (not that he remembers temperature, anyway). But the horse moves restlessly as he approaches, so Aamu doesn't press.And the frozen tears covered all the mountainsides
He doesn't know what he's expecting, or why he's even here. These are treacherous times and he is more vulnerable than ever, yet he answers the call of a stranger, not seeing if they come with knives or smiles. There's nothing but their voice and their horse and the unending darkness around them.
He doesn't like the feeling creeping through his flesh, this wary distrust.
"Of course." Then— "Why?" He does not want to dissuade them, does not want to judge them, for he is delighted to hear they wish to become bright. It is a welcome respite—but the world is full of broken creatures and Ascension will not fix them.
So he asks, gentle and curious.
But then the time got by and the wolf died
And someday that wolf would be I
And someday that wolf would be I
