Sometimes parents tell their children that monsters are not real, sometimes parents lie- monsters are very real.
Kult does not question what they must do, he simply does as he is asked.
Night is coming as they skirt the Gates borders, filtering against the backdrop of trees and bushes. Using the half light of dusk to conceal themselves, to collect the girl. They must find her, that snow covered mare, and they must take her. That's what he's been told, that's what he knows he must do. It is all very simple in his mind, nothing needs explaining, nothing needs reason.
Here all is lush, all is warm and inviting. They should work on that inviting part, some guests they were better off not receiving. The grass and clover here are almost overpowering, both in their smell and their presence. The night rages on, filling the Gates with darkness, with the oppression of dead heat. Now and then white moths flutter across his barrel, over his head and he snaps at them in their passing.
Before he can find the girl he spots a cluster of children. So many, so many for such a small kingdom. He stood and he watched them, so consumed in the illusion of safety that they were. He watched them and he listened, to his brother and his sister he speaks, just one word.
"Take." And again he falls silent, his single ear pushing forward at the voices of their prey. The sound runs up his spine with an indescribable thrill, but communicating nothing to his heart. It was purely physical, it was wonderfully thrilling.
