are the dead really silent?
I could feel Psyche approach before I saw her. Whichever sense was the one to catch her first caused my heart to race in my chest. When at last I saw her come over the grass I felt the familiar sense of relief at her being near. Her tongue washed over my chin and face and my tail swayed behind me with pleasure. Breathing her in, my own nose buries itself in her fur, a low pleased growl escaped my lips and I almost forgot what had brought me to these lands.
My attention snaps to a dark wolf as the woman approaches. Though nothing can make bone deep contentment at having Psyche closer to me once again, I cannot help but give this creature the attention she deserves. As my eyes land on her and study her closely. She does not show it, but she holds a sense of power and command. The songs of spirits around me shift, their cries turning to anguish. Their whispers and cries begged me to turn away, turn to some place else. No, I would stay. I had been called too often to this realm to deny the twists of fate even as the voices of death spoke different words.
I nod my head to the woman who arrived, but do not allow myself far from contact with the dwarfed form or Psyche. I am even couched over her, determined to be as close as accepted.
“I am no wolf of Taviora.” I assure the woman. “The forests are home to another.” My paws had always ached to roam, There had never been a place to call to me except the earth itself. Now, though my toes still itched, my deeper callings gripped me far harder. “I wish to be here.” My eyes were once again captured by Psyche. She was the mistress of my very being.
lord; 5 falls; 41in/190lbs; Psyche’s fateXheartless; wandering ghost |