here we are in the heart of the darkness; Woolf

[woolf]

bitterness is thick like blood and cold as a wind sea breeze
if you must drink of me, take of me what you please

The first thing that he thinks is that he is far too easy to find.

The second is less of a fully formed thought and more of a heavy sigh.

He feels the creature creeping up to him, moving through the darkness like his own home, the shadows clinging to every inch of himself as if he was a part of them—and, in a way, Woolf supposes that he is.

He angles his mulberry head toward the sound of the stallion moving toward him through the shadow, his golden eyes peering out toward him. Woolf grits his teeth, emerald eyes narrowing on him before he just takes a deep breath. “I suppose that it’s time.” He had promised his half-sister, after all, that he would be available should she need him and he can feel even now—at least now that he is concentrating on it—that it is long past the time when one would consider her in need. So he just nods his head at the other.

“Let’s not bother to waste any breath.” He steps forward, the motion causing the barest hint of dust to rise from his coat and plume into the air around him. “You came to summon me because Heartfire needs me. I said I would so I won’t go back on my word now.” One corner of his mouth quirks slightly.

If only the boy knew just how willing Woolf was to go back on his word.

Still, he rolls his shoulder and gestures before him.

“So take me to her so I can do what I can to help.”

woolf

I am loathed to say it's the devil's taste