in another life

Another night. The winter made each additional one longer, colder, darker. Deteste did well to keep himself busy throughout the day. His new position certainly helped him keep his mind of the frozen meal that awaited him the secluded den he had once shared with Laxago. An entire season had passed without her and he wondered how many would continue to pass. He wondered what it would be like when he finally stopped leaving meals for her in the den. He wondered what it would be like when he grew old and died a loveless bachelor. The thought was funny, it caused his lips to grow tight in what could be a confused smile if his effort were greater. But his spirit was not in it. It was not a joke to him. He yawned as he neared the end of his patrol. Now that he was Sol he had taken up a second night route. It always tired him just enough to sleep without investing too much thought into Laxago. He often felt guilt that he had not pursued her but the Ludicael held great meaning for him and he could not abandon his responsibilities, especially not now.


When he arrived at the den the pheasant was frozen through. He was not particularly hungry and he believed the rigid body would keep till morning. By the sound of the crickets outside he knew that morning was not far. He had done the loop twice with the second pass extending beyond the borderlands in the hope of discovering some sign of Laxago. However as winter drew on the snow became heavier and it was difficult to track anything when the blanket was so often, freshly laid. Determined not to focus on his disappointment he allowed his thoughts to linger on Jupiter and wondered if his children looked much like her. He was eager to visit her but understood her need for distance. They were only just born. He was rather excited to have young ones in the Ludicael and he would treat the whelps as if they could be his own. Now he smiled. His expression tired but warm. He thought about resting and adjusted his body accordingly but could find no comfort. Instead he slid out, invisible in the mangrove's nightly shade with only his breath as a visible entity, frequent and white as the snow that fell silently around him.