the hunter and the hunter

DEIMOS

The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head
The thunder of the drums dictates

His brows furrowed at the notion of a creature trapped within the Wicker Woman’s hold as well, compelled, as he so often was, by the plight of another. “Can we not free the animal too?” Given the opportunity and range of his magic, he should be able to apply the incantations decently enough to give the fauna a fighting chance – but perhaps Juniper was more concerned their current circumstances.

And maybe rightfully so, given the perplexity of what began to take place. He withheld a sigh, not truly wanting the Fae to get any closer, hiding the frustration of the notions behind a clenched jaw and a concentrating mind. He watched and waited, the silent, predacious observer, biding his opportunity, when the tendril began to snake around Juniper and her stick.

So action took quick precedence, and as he stepped forward, his enchantments moved with ease, with swiftness, with precision. Icy wares were galvanized in succession, altering from watery droplets to sharpened, menacing shards, intending to slash and cut, rip and tear, the proportions extended. With any luck and strength, it’d allow Juniper her freedom too.

The rhythm of the falls, the number of dead
The rising of the horns, ahead