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With fire to keep us warm, and tools we made from rocks and bones
Halluncations and hours unaccounted for had become the normal for the sultan. The immense and weighty heat of Tallsun had hidden the fact that more sweat than normal lined his muscular form - in this heat, he appeared just as sweaty as everyone else, but for those who knew him and knew the extent of his physical prowess, would know the telltale signs. Gaucho had lived on the sands all his life, and was he not dowsed in fire? The heat didn't bother him, and yet the lines of his body were darkened by sweat.
Drawn by another sleepless evening, the Wildfire roamed the Throat, looking to some as if he was patrolling; only his companions knew the tortured and disintegrating fragments of his mind, and knew enough to know that he was merely wandering.
There was a girl ahead, a filly. Her parents were...
In his mind a distant memory. He could see the two, but behind a fog. They were...they were...
She danced in a tight circle around a litter of bones, and Gaucho had to blink away the thought that this girl was perhaps a triplet of his - a third twin to Tae and Grusha. Then again Aelin and Hawke had been enthralled by bones and ..
was she one of his?
But no. The images behind the veil were clearly not a reflection of himself, nor or Ampere or Sohalia.
Shaking his antlered skull, the Wildfire approached. His small orangey-red pheonix glided forward, trilling brightly towards the child. Vorsa had always loved children. Mara, the more reserved, sat silently in Gaucho's antlers merely watching with her judging, black stare.
"This new rain dance?" The Sultan commented mildly, his voice a low rumble.
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