There was only heartbeats between us; if a demon’s heart even beat within that half rotted breast. Even when I felt a soldier drift up behind me, my gaze never left our opponents frame. One dark ear met Hector’s single word acknowledgement—it didn’t take but a moment for my senses to register who stood at the rear and feel right in knowing that my spine was well covered. My heavy mass of alabaster silk flicked right, a wordless response to his position and a soundless method for me to cue a friend in as I traced forward and to the left with careful steps. “Go right,” I flicked again just out of affirmation, and twitched my right ear toward his solid amber frame. Both ears slipped back against skull half a step later, clapping hard against the mess of mane below, “Be wary.” A fact that neither of us needed to know; lord only knew what tricks this beast was capable of. Obviously we weren’t as protected in this hovel as previously thought. How had this creature slipped past so easily?

Our ghoul speaks, words that register as weak—or perhaps strangled. I pause, gapping, staring at him. My mouth slips apart further and for a full second nothing but air crosses through. My shock is evident because I’d yet to hear these infected souls speak with any sort of logic that didn’t include blood and death. In that moment I realize who the wraith standing before us is, “Satanic Silk.” Words that drift out in more of a whisper meant for nobody. Surprise fades into a faint hum and I drift my skull lower from its regal position, regarding him plainly instead of offensively, “Be still…be easy brother and hold fast. Your life need not end today. We have a cure.”

Was it too late to reach him?

Chains shook off the last of their dirt from yon entrance, they start a slow descend into the pit. Quietly and cautiously creeping up from behind in the darkness, should things turn sour (which was likely) I’d be forced to use them. Muzzle extends to its full reach, a pained warning flares within me to turn aside. Chain him and have conversation later it screams-- but I can’t shake the notion that if he could fight this evil without violence. A child of the desert was strong, no matter the length of time they’d spent in our homeland. Maybe there were others who could do the same. Though, it was more likely this foolish hope is to be dashed, “If ye can fight just a little longer.” Encouragement, perhaps falsely placed, “Let’s go to the water together.”