I swallow, cleansing my palate…Noah…mini me whispers, urging, readjusting my focus to the here and now. Anxious, taunt irises hover tentatively over his milky, gilded flesh. While tapped within those tense seconds, there appears to be naught but the shell of another proud victim. Apprehensive lungs constrict, solidifying my grief and remorse into an iron-like knot which becomes lodged in the back of my mouth. Then…I sip upon the humid air…and he…those ginormous, two toned sides strain into a yawn. He lives. I turn my face toward the splash of tepid relief. Reprieve continues to trickle in…becoming a powerful surge when the eagle stretches testily, (seeming to be as unburdened as me.) Unspoken gratitude undoes the gnarled, dark emotions trapped within me. A muffled nicker dribbles from these lax lips, a wordless gesture of consolation and acknowledgement.

As he adjusts, resolving to settle into our dirty nest of twig, blood and leaf – the movement brings awareness to my own mortal discomforts. A numbing, tingling ache is spreading beneath me, pulsing from a cramped right wing. I pull these twig legs closer and lean forward like he does – removing a portion of myself from the hinge of that crimped arm.

These shutters narrow, allowing just a crack…an unbidden sigh filters in from the depths. I feel it again. An opposing aura. It settles just above my skin, hovering like a miasma – drawing my discomfort and lending me fortitude. But the alien presence isn’t like that of the first; it felt similar...but much fainter…like the last rays of twilight, paling before the beautiful face of night. And like twilight, it vanishes swiftly into the cool embrace of evening. Another bystander deteriorates and joins us upon the ground…irises widen, surprised concern flickers beneath the strengthening haze.

The cloth laden warrior speaks, snagging my focus from the crowd (and the curious members within it) – I’m attentive to him, but those alien words aren’t tailored to suit these ears. Confusion brightens my expression in an ill way. I wait for a translation, but nothing is provided. He retreats some distance off from the us, seemingly satisfied to linger nearby...staring off into the timberline…lost within his mind.

Muscles quiver, thawing from their cramped position. Around me, it feels as though the forest is releasing a pent breath. It breaths outward, the wind rustles those stagnate treetops above us, scattering droplets of light. Optics skim their battlefield, eyeing the scattered entrails wordlessly. Then…as the quiet murmurs subside…a fresh dose of reality comes trotting in. The body…realization grates, hissing in my ears. They will find him. Find me. Horror reignites, squelching my brief moment of reprieve. I didn’t have the strength to haul it away…nor a way to destroy it. Anxiety -my constant companion- lingers on the threshold; only the comfort of numbers holds it at bay.

As our healer rises, I glance over at him reflectively…but self taught aversion corrects my impudence. Irises drop. The proximity and memory of his gentleness is recent and not easily forgotten. "Le corps," though my voice is unwavering, stronger even, it would seem muted to the crowd. A habit born early on. Still…I force myself to strain, to rise above those other voices; striving to be heard by the farthest of our group, "détruire lui." The soil is saturated with the taste of death…negativity would suggest that they will find it no matter what.

OC:-hover over text for a translation!-

@Vitani
@Noah