He does not make it out of the mountains in time.
He had only recently parted company with the striped stallion and his fox companion; perhaps it was not surprising that they met again, both drawn to the rockface when the wind lashed and lightning made stark the world as it flashed.
Lysander does not mind the gale; as the dark clouds churn and snow makes a veil, his heartbeat stays a steady thing even as the ground rumbles beneath him. It is only the glimpses of things overhead, like a half-remembered dream, that make him uneasy.
Each dark shadow of a beast brings a mixture of memories – one more recent (the kelpie ancient, her eyes too hollow, too hungry, dripping with sharp brine of the sea) and another from a life ago (dancing with a girl on ground like glass, as shapes that could only be called other moved between the stars above them). There is a wild, feral edge to his eyes then, the sick green of a coming storm.
Lysander knows now what it is to be hunted. He does not care for it.
That is why, as he picks his way toward a gathering of bodies (only dark forms in the snow, until he draws near) his first reaction on recognizing the storyteller is not joy.
“Isra,” he greets her, and to disguise the crackling edge to his voice presses his muzzle against hers. The unicorn is not his to care for; she is capable (moreso than himself, perhaps – certainly wiser). Even so a new fear twists in his belly – fear for others is a bitter feeling he’s not used to tasting.
Only then does he look to the others, offering a nod to Kauri and a level gaze to Katniss, her coat near silver as the storm. His voice when he speaks is raised enough to be audible above the howling wind. “The best help for any of us is to stay alive. Less easy here than you’d think.” Almost he grins; he knows this as well as any. Another brilliant flash; the distinct sound of shattering glass. Another glimpse of wings too huge to be anything good.
Lysander’s attention moves to the other stallion then, and the crevice in the rock; it seems a clear choice to him. As the ground shudders again beneath another huge roll of thunder he steps into the dim passageway, ignoring the relief he feels as the wind at last falls still.
They are a long way from safety yet.
you fester in the daytime hours
boy, you never sleep at night
@Isra @
