mattresses trump food emergencies

The Warlord released himself from the harness once the mattress was free of the doorway, and began to anchor the cart so it wouldn’t slide as they began to load their prize. While he did that, his son asked him a question that had him raising his head to meet his blue eyes.

He paused a moment, holding his gaze, before shaking his head in amusement. “Zee and I had been thrown together a lot, doing chores and working together. I was harsh to her. Cruel, even.” he admitted, thinking back to a time that somehow lay years ago. Years? Where did the time go…

“I’d say… i’d say I started to get an inkling when I found her in a storm, she had tried to overcome her fear to get to me, but hadn’t made it. She had come to me for comfort, for me to protect her from something that frightened her. Even though I was a grumpy asshole.” he said, trailing off for a moment, thoughts in the past. “But it really hit me in the head when I realised what I could lose, when I hurt her in a night terror and almost killed her.” he grunted, and picked up the harness again. “We Fatalis boys need a good fright to realise what we can lose, eh?” he said, as he aligned himself to the cart.


"Sirius Fatalis"