Acton had no more care for the gods than the last time he’d climbed up Veneror Peak – maybe less, since this time his left knee creaked like an ancient oak. Maybe it was a little funny, all the ways he’d been un- and re-made since he’d last met with Raum for something unholy, but he credited none of it to Caligo. He had always preferred mortals to thank, and mortals to blame.
He had lost track of Raum somewhere in the turmoil of the messenger-bird’s arrival. And after that had come a more personal chaos: a letter from a girl all flash and fire. That was all the motivation he’d needed to climb the mountain, though every step he took his bum leg reminded him what a gods-damned fool he probably was.
Well, was anything really worthwhile if it started out as a good idea?
And he was not the least bit sorry when his gaze found her, when that familiar anticipation erased his pain, filling him instead with that familiar burning –
Be careful brother.
Acton huffed a breath, only just keeping himself from nipping at the Ghost’s jaw as he turned toward the silver Crow. He didn’t bother denying a thing; Raum was more perceptive than anyone he knew, and besides, if he wasn’t on a stage the buckskin didn’t bother much with hiding. “Well, Raum, you just made it look so gods-damned fun, I had to give it a try.” Though his tone was low, he still wore a smile – but it faded when he cast his gaze back over those gathered.
Dawn, Day, Dusk – but there was nothing of the court he’d served, the king he’d loved as a brother, as a father, as a friend. When Acton spoke again, it sounded almost penitent. “Have you seen him?”
MOUTH IS MADE OF METAL
POCKET FULL OF YELLOW
@Raum
