Golden eyes watching our every move
Losing time without the sun or moon
It’s not often they wander so deep into the shadows. He had grown accustomed to having these depths to himself once. Until they had swallowed him up, those shadows, made him one of their own. Now none intrude, if he does not wish it. And perhaps that is why he had curled up in the lee of that massive trunk, peering into the forest with longing. They might intrude here. But only if the shadows call to them like they always have to him.
The moon struggles to find purchase here, and he is content with that. The moon is not the sun, but still she shines bright. Almost blinding in the open.
But only those like him would find comfort in the shadow rather than the moon. And so the boy that stumbles into his hidden glen must truly be special. He watches him with curiosity, wondering. He does not seem to know what it is he seeks, and yet he could feel the purpose. He wanders, but he is not lost. Not like the others who have stumbled upon him in the past.
He had hidden from them. The lost always fear the shadow.
He doesn’t know how long he watches. Long enough for the shadows to shift, ever so slightly. When finally he rises, it is in eerie silence. He doesn’t know when it had happened, but the shadows had embraced him, swallowing the sound of his shuffled steps and uncertain movements. He had truly become one of them.
He steps from the hollow of his sanctuary, golden eyes gleaming in the pitch of the night. Something draws him to the boy, the whisper of the shadows or the gentle and dark call of his presence, he is not certain. But he interrupts his wanderings, letting him know he is not alone.
(They’re never alone.)
“Hello,” he whispers, the softness of his voice blending with the darkness of the forest.
ether