And the unicorn evils run them through;
Split all ends up they shan’t crack;
And death shall have no dominion."
There is hunger ahead of her, caught in the jaw of her black magic, and behind her. She can feel each pound of it like a blade against her throat begging her to eat, and eat, and eat, until the world is nothing more than bones picked clean by the tip of her horn. It sings a song, that desperation of hunger, in the creak of forest pines in the wind. And each note, each bray of the coyote pack, quickens both her galloping stride and the current of the death rushing out from her shadows.
Tonight she does not try to collar it, or choke it, or beg it to be something less than monstrous. Tonight with her daughter running in her wake and Eligos at her shoulder she does nothing more but demand more, and more, and more, of both hunger and death.
Seeds have no place in the forest tonight-- no place at all in the hunt of monsters.
Thana smiles, as unicorns smile with both singing horn and teeth, as the double blood-trail cracks in half ahead of them. And she turns when the thunder of their hooves turns to silence as she demands her daughter pause with nothing more than a flick of her lion tail. “Do we follow the dying thing or the thing running to survive?” Her gaze blazes as she waits to see which path her daughter wants to follow. Because it will tell her what sort of unicorn she has made from the wreckage of black magic and life magic.
Eligos continues on with his nose buried in the rotten leaves of winter’s end. He follows one of the trails with his hunger that needs no pause in which to learn, and gather, and burn up.
Around them the forest remains quiet as a corpse in a mile of loam. All the birds hold their song. All the owls turn their heads into the bark. And all the wolves close their eyes and pray that the unicorns will run by and turn their violence to other bared throats and tender hearts.
Thana pays no head to the silent wolves, and owls, and creatures praying, as she waits for Isolt to take the hunt between her teeth and pull. And pull, and pull, and pull, until the entire world unravels by the force of her vicious hunger.
It is the right of unicorns to unravel that upon which they set their gaze.
@Isolt
