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The hunter and his companion have wandered far, following scent trails and tracks to find their prey. Manhattan raises her snout to the air before placing it back on the ground and leading her master onward. A thin whine crawls from the corner of her lips, drawing him closer just as the humming vibrato of a violin shortens the distance between lovers. The two are inseparable regardless of his mental state; even as Knox relaxes his own mind and restores his body to Anaan, the dog feels their kinship burned strong into her bones. She carries him forward steadily- turning back to ensure he follows and forcing her steps into silence to account for the sighing of his feathers as they catch on the wet marsh grasses.
Their game stands innocent at the edge of the waters, her doe eyes wide and her white sliver of a tail flashing in the low Birdsong moonlight. From his shaded place beneath the trees, Knox is almost invisible- it is when he steps closer and a stray moonbeam shines upon him that he is given away. Manhattan's eyes flash bright in tandem with the sudden illumination of Knox's enchanted bridle- in an instant, the pair are given away. Across the water the doe starts and leaps forward, creating a chorus of splashes that joins the ever-present groans of the uneasy dead. Like a bullet Manhattan flies forward to meet the creature where it stands, but the water stops her. She is not scared to swim; the young retriever has spent many a days in the river with her master.
But these are not normal waters. The darkness that stirs in them is illustrated clearly enough by the dull haze they take on even in the clear moonlight. The thick, muddy pools cannot be penetrated even by the grace of the divine goddess of the moon. This alone would be enough to hold Anaan back; but Knox's hunger propels him forward. The draft mutt gallops through the brush noisily, for there is no longer any need to remain clandestine, and breaks the surface of the water with one swift descent of a hoof. Fish that had gathered to rest at the water's edge scatter and leap above the surface, only to be dragged back down. The surface of the bubbling water, disturbed by tortured breaths of the spirits trapped underneath, ripples with a sudden intensity that no longer seems natural. There is magic in these unsafe waters which Manhattan has warned him from, but the hunter does not care.
Mud and fluids of decomposition splatter up the sides of his powerful legs; He blinks with heavy lids and long lashes stroke the high bones of his cheek even as they are contained by the bridle. Anaan would turn back, were he a coward; Knox were he reasonable. And in time, the stallion does buck and rear and run the other way; but only after the doe disappears.
For something beneath the water has felt its motion and sensed its warmth, and something far more vicious and starving than Knox or his ancestors has snapped at the prey. In an instant, the doe is gone- grabbed in a flash by a set of undead jaws to drown beneath the waters and die with them. Knox turns with a neigh of fright, clamoring for the safety of the water's edge where Manhattan stands, waiting. And even when the ground is beneath his feet he feels unsafe. He tastes the muck of the water mixed with nervous sweat on the edge of his lips and the fear races on, forcing the heart to beat faster until it might break.
But he cannot break before the midnight moon, even after having seen such a thing as terrible as that. And so Manhattan leans closer to him, dirtying her coat unhesitatingly, and returns to him his calm. Knox's panic fades, and the protector's mind surrounds him.
KNOX and MANHATTAN
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