Loss

The man lingered near the borders of Valhalla, that once fruitful land weighing heavily upon his thought. Now the winter had taken away it's life, the valley he crossed only weeks ago was more barren than his last trespass. The snow icier. The air more bitter. And the scent of rotted blood pungent in that sterile air. Black water rushed silently beside him. The spirit of that familiar river tamed by the cold that possessed the valley. A storm caused the night to be dim yet his reflection was clear against the slow moving water. The man would stare upon it with speculation as if weighing his chances against some old rival before a dry chuckle would escape him in the form of white smoke.



There was movement not far from the man and it would stir him from his thoughts. His blue eyes almost as dark as the water but glowing clearly in the winter night. He recognized her immediately and in that moment realized that this was the same place they had met before, that this was place she visited often. And He recognized immediately that he did not desire interaction. So he would stand, still and rigid as a lifeless tree whose black form was half invisible in the night and half stark against the white snow. Watching the woman until her tremors so possessed her that the man feared she may die, alone in the frigid night. "Erani." he would speak, the qualities of his deep voice bold against the silence that threatened to smother them. His lean limbs would pull him forward, their bodies nearly touching as he positioned himself squarely against the wind, his black mane billowing with it's force, his stance ready to move above the woman should the storm begin to bury them with ice. It was alarming the softness Erani struck into the mans's heart. She was so much like Laxago. In such an expression of vulnerability he had been unable to hold himself back.