The storm finally broke in the early hours of the morning, chased away by the rising sun. By the time the sky was light again, a bright spring morning, the roar of the thunder and the flash of the lightning from the previous night seemed like an impossible dream. But it was not, of course.

Orochi did not forget a storm. Their danger had been impressed upon him at a young age, and his coal-black pelt still glistened slightly with sweat from his running through the night. Sand still clung to his dark feathers, and he could smell the saltwater from the swim. He could still taste her blood in his mouth.

Nami. She had driven him here, to this strange land where he did not know his way. She had been searching for him, that much was clear, but he didn’t want to see her – he didn’t want to listen to her lies and her excuses. It did not matter to him that she had tried to help – that she had always been kind to him – she had not saved him therefore she was as bad as the rest of the snakes he had escaped.

He was only angry now, angry that she had disturbed what little peace he had found and forced him to flee to this place, whatever it was. Now that the sun was up and he was sure she was gone, Orochi wandered aimlessly through the trees. The ground squelched slightly with each step of his giant hooves, still wet from the heavy rain in the storm, and low-hanging vines brushed against his back as he pushed his way through the undergrowth. Eventually the thick foliage gave way to open space, and he emerged into a large clearing beside a shallow pool that glittered in the sunlight.

He paused, his dark eyes slipping slowly over the scene before him.

Whether he had wandered here by chance, or whether he had unconsciously sought out the thick scent of fellow men he would never know. He didn’t know yet what this place was, but for now it was somewhere quiet and somewhere that he had not been followed. For the moment, that was enough.

OROCHI
and the worry cracks a fracture from your hip to your chest