DEIMOS
The peryton bleated with absolute glee, and Deimos managed to stifle the sigh warring through his chest, as the youth blasted off across the tundra. He appeared to be invoking some kind of chase, because then he’d peel around, intending to snip lightly at the cub, and then bound off once more. Wings spread, he’d hasten within the snow in a whirlwind of energy, while the Sword shook his head, and they could continue onward.But he listened too, to Sah’s tones as he described the candle, the spirit, laden within and all its measures. “It seems the spirits can be just as fickle as the heralds,” and here he managed a light laugh, gaze flicking up to the sky, and back down again on the tundra lines. “Some are receptive, some are quick to anger.” He imagined some were prone to violence too, or gentle, benign, inquisitive, pondering about humans as much as humans pondered about them. “At least it was a positive experience.” And Sah had heard the confirmation of what brewed along the horizon. Now – what to do with all of it?
He was something solid
to lean against
violent and fierce and unmoving
