GHAUL

i can take you there, but baby, you won't make it back

He stretches, cat-like with his talons dragging down the length of an old paperbark maple. He likes the way strips of it coming twirling off in response. The year in the north had been interesting, to say the least, but his time in the ashen lair has come to an end. Ghaul walks now to savor the freedom without the concern of being followed by any displeased women demanding he return. Of course, he does not know that leaves change with this season, but he likes the musk of decaying leaves that crackle beneath his steps. His wings lay slack across his back to drag through the piles of dried sticks or naked shrubs.
 
A slow sigh leaves his lungs as he enjoys the sounds of the world around him. There are no sheep or ptarmigan to terrorize here, but he likes the chittering of aggravated squirrels or the songbirds of the temperate forests. He can even smell the small deer that have marked the trees with their temporary antlers. A calm smile bleeds across his face as he begins to relax more and more with each long stride.
 
Up ahead, the river is coursing its same ancient path and he ducks under a low hanging branch to reach it. He wonders what he will eat first when he returns home to Pangea as he drinks from the cold waters. Eventually his thoughts drift to Clarissa as he finally dares to think of how long they have been apart. That had been the hardest part he thinks – falling asleep without an angel curled against him in their nest.
 
He shifts his weight and lifts his head to examine his surroundings for a while. There is a quiet hunger building in his chest for the hunt, whether it be for food or for coupling. The only certain thing for now is the gnawing emptiness in him that pleads for fulfillment. But it is quiet enough for now that he can push it aside and move forward, to Pangea and the Cove that awaits him.