The depthless gaze of an indigo-eyed man peers out over the plains. They are barren and reflect only the moonlight from above which appears quite strange being that day should have risen hours ago. Perhaps he had simply been lost in time, swept away in the minutes without realizing that they were mere seconds instead. But it didn’t feel right… The darkness was everlasting and as they roamed together, a wolf and her companion, the light never came. It was maddening, this sullen darkness, and as they moved, perhaps both wondering where the sun had gone, he paused at her side.

“Does this seem strange to you?” His voice is tired, still recovering from the former heat and pain of remembering. Knowing that she has stilled beside him, he turns a curious eye to her, his face finally relaxed into an impassive grimace that looks all too natural upon his stern face. Dry, cracked lips seem to part as if to say more but he falls silent, content to entertain his sense of the unknown instead of the preposterous arousal that had flourished between the pair earlier in that night. As he stared out over the quiet plains, he became entranced in the pristine beauty of their nature- how the cold would devastate this icy paradise in the absence of light.

Somehow it reminds him of death and the vague sense of loss that accompanies it. Without light to warm the earth, they are but sitting ducks waiting for the cold night to take them. It is saddening… Déodat had dealt with many different warriors- those that fought with reason, those that fought with hate, and those that fought with passion… The list goes on and on. But he had never faced an adversary as large and undefined as Mother Nature herself. He was slowly coming to the realization that if the sun didn’t rise, this would be a battle that he simply could not win.

For a moment, the man forgets his company and slowly leans against her shoulder hoping to find the reprieve he needs to recovery from such a shocking revelation, but instead he is greeted with repulsion. Widened eyes snap to her face and suddenly he is aware of all that she is, yet still he cannot seem to leave her side in fear that should he become lost in the chilling drifts, he may never return to the Basin again. “I do not think that an illegitimate horn upon your ‘brow would make you any more appealing my sweet. It would only make you a wolf in sheep’s clothing, which in your case would be completely appropriate.”

The ghost of a smile touches his lips and once again he is lost to the possibilities of her- such a silly creature to waste his time with and yet so compelling, so intriguing. Gently, he runs a silken muzzle along her neck, his eyes now hooded by the fantasy of her soft moans upon his ear. But of course the sounds are only fabricated and when he once again retracts he is left feeling empty and without comfort. Perhaps he is straining to overcome her attempts at seduction, but in the end he knows it is only a losing game.