Raymond.
and at his feet they'll cast their golden crowns
when the man comes around
Ruth growled plaintively as the Thunderbirds flocked farther and farther from her substantial reach, the sound churning like a tumble of boulders in her chest. Raymond took little notice.
Calliope stirred, her breath feather-light around her murmured 'always', and as quickly as the word came the wind snatched it away, carrying her consciousness with it. Worry twitched at the corner of the red stallion's mouth. That it should burrow so tenaciously through the carven stone of his face said something of the way his stomach dropped and trap doors swung open to unleash horrors into the dark recesses of his mind. Again he met Shrike's eye, helplessness flashing in his gaze for the split second before the primal urge to do caught up and surged to the fore.
Raymond marked the birds' dark, retreating stains against the blue-bruised sky and beckoned Ruth through the rising bile-taste of déjà vu in his stomach. "She needs rest," he said aloud, more for his benefit than Shrike's. "I'll take her somewhere safe."
Somewhere far away - from the front lines, from all thoughts of valor.
Neither his tone nor the Tarrasque's massive claws offered room for argument as Ruth cradled the dark mare to her chest like an eggshell. Raymond leapt into her remaining hand with a decisiveness he still did not quite feel and closed his eyes as the ground rushed away beneath him.
With a last warning roar at the retreating birds, Ruth turned toward the most remote reaches of the Arma mountains, where once she had nearly killed a queen.
and at his feet they'll cast their golden crowns
when the man comes around
Ruth growled plaintively as the Thunderbirds flocked farther and farther from her substantial reach, the sound churning like a tumble of boulders in her chest. Raymond took little notice.
Calliope stirred, her breath feather-light around her murmured 'always', and as quickly as the word came the wind snatched it away, carrying her consciousness with it. Worry twitched at the corner of the red stallion's mouth. That it should burrow so tenaciously through the carven stone of his face said something of the way his stomach dropped and trap doors swung open to unleash horrors into the dark recesses of his mind. Again he met Shrike's eye, helplessness flashing in his gaze for the split second before the primal urge to do caught up and surged to the fore.
Raymond marked the birds' dark, retreating stains against the blue-bruised sky and beckoned Ruth through the rising bile-taste of déjà vu in his stomach. "She needs rest," he said aloud, more for his benefit than Shrike's. "I'll take her somewhere safe."
Somewhere far away - from the front lines, from all thoughts of valor.
Neither his tone nor the Tarrasque's massive claws offered room for argument as Ruth cradled the dark mare to her chest like an eggshell. Raymond leapt into her remaining hand with a decisiveness he still did not quite feel and closed his eyes as the ground rushed away beneath him.
With a last warning roar at the retreating birds, Ruth turned toward the most remote reaches of the Arma mountains, where once she had nearly killed a queen.
Exuent stage left, riding a bear
aut viam inveniam aut faciam
