03-23-2023, 12:53 PM
— neuna
“Eros!” she calls into the dark, but the wolf is gone, dissolved into the shadows.
(He had turned his head so swiftly toward the horizon that it had startled her. But he had left her with no indication of what had drawn his attention, what it was that he chased into the night. And she had scrambled to follow him but he could not be slowed, could not be called back.)
In the silence that follows, her heart constricts, tightening like a fist in the cage of her chest. (And she remembers when her mother had spirited the Fates out of Pangea, how she had mourned the trio of shadow wolves they’d had to leave behind, how the girls had conspired to retrieve them. How, other than the fog, the wolf was the last thing that connected her to her father. Right now, she misses the wolf in the same way she misses her sisters, her mother.)
She blinks into the darkness and wonders, not for the first time, if she might find the Reaper watching her. But she finds something else altogether. Another dark figure, though this one is winged and shot through with gold.
“Oh,” she says, her mouth softening around a smile as she studies him and the eyes (unnatural, unhealthy) cast him in a soft glow even in the dark. “Hi,” she adds, “you haven’t seen a wolf come through here, have you?”
(He had turned his head so swiftly toward the horizon that it had startled her. But he had left her with no indication of what had drawn his attention, what it was that he chased into the night. And she had scrambled to follow him but he could not be slowed, could not be called back.)
In the silence that follows, her heart constricts, tightening like a fist in the cage of her chest. (And she remembers when her mother had spirited the Fates out of Pangea, how she had mourned the trio of shadow wolves they’d had to leave behind, how the girls had conspired to retrieve them. How, other than the fog, the wolf was the last thing that connected her to her father. Right now, she misses the wolf in the same way she misses her sisters, her mother.)
She blinks into the darkness and wonders, not for the first time, if she might find the Reaper watching her. But she finds something else altogether. Another dark figure, though this one is winged and shot through with gold.
“Oh,” she says, her mouth softening around a smile as she studies him and the eyes (unnatural, unhealthy) cast him in a soft glow even in the dark. “Hi,” she adds, “you haven’t seen a wolf come through here, have you?”