[P] These are portents

[Batty]

The first records of our young world were those of tears and blood;
its last records will be those of tears and blood also.

Turhan had nothing to say. Somehow, that made everything worse.

The Ilati were Vespera's chosen people, but what hope had they of navigating this new and perilous landscape? The witch doctor was not Nahane; she had spent most of her recent life speaking to Vespera and interpreting in the world around her what her silent mother ofefred in response, but at times the dusk goddess' guidance seemed like perhaps it might just be herself, her own whims.

And now even Turhan had no answer.

The spotted mare finished fastening the coo mask to the old stallion's face, her grating sigh deep enough to upset the beaded bag at her shoulder.

She needed to regroup, to see this happening from a more impersonal perspective and read the portents with an unbiased eye. With Turhan here, bloodied and coated with stone dust, she could do neither of these things. "Come," the witch doctor said, brushing him lightly with her masked muzzle before turning back toward Terrastella, "we go now."

With that, the witch doctor picked her way carefully down the mountainside, trusting that Turhan would follow.

The Witch Doctor
there are no grotesques in nature

=(