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I leave the cave and its nightmare behind me with something like reluctance. In the shadows cast by fire and fear I came close to death, but not the closest I have ever been. I grew up on battlefields, in the shadows of unholy gods. Before I was even old enough to understand the meeting of mortality and the heavens, I was cast into their risks.
So what is a monster or two in the caves? What is a shadow on the wall when the blood of a god rests against my chest? It's a vial stained with contradiction, with the mortal proof of immortal being.
And what does that make me?
My hindquarters sway awkwardly with every step, my walk a hitched and painful evidence of the pain I carry in my bones. When I surface from the caves I find myself once again in a crowd, a throng of pushing, pressing, heaving bodies all around a mysterious source of warmth and light. The sight of them all would make me run if I could, but I find myself too much in the middle of it, too tired and too broken by pain to turn away. I do as before, lowering my head and moving slowly through the bodies until I can see the center of attention more clearly.
The canary-colored creature seems like an odd mix of predator and prey, but whatever it is it is nothing I wish to draw closer to. My short distance away is close enough, and with my golden eyes focused keenly I'm able to make out the glow of the warm source. Is this what they're all here for, then, some glowing heat?
Is this what I'm here for, or is it what I just left behind?
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m i l o
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