Irae

Art by Solux

2015

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His legs reminded him of their stiffness, of their discomfort in being stuck in the same position for so long, crouching at the edge of the cliff.


As before, he ignored them and banished his pain to the back of his mind. I will heed you when I have time. Or if I ever care to. There was much more to worry about than muscles complaining.


His left hand lay lightly curled around the hilt of his short saber as his right hand toyed with his knife, the polished sharpness reflecting the setting sun. The wind whispered to him as it toyed with his unbound mane of hair and coursed around his ears. It brought him no stories, no news he wished to hear, but only idle babble. He flared his nostrils again.


With a rueful laugh, he exhaled and bowed his head. He had sought her scent on the fickle breeze and for a moment had sworn he had caught it. But having gone so long without it, soon everything smells of her.


He would wait longer, of course, as long as it would take. Those who had taken her had their own scents and he knew them, as well. They would come this way and he would find them—he would find her—and they would be together once more in this world or the next.


He toyed with the knife again and once more stilled the complaints of his limbs. There were much more important things to dwell upon, and he resumed his task in silence.

----©TheBrig