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Chapter 85: A Ghosting From The Past
Sethlzaar stroked Saelin's hair where it fell from her head rested on his chest, wondering what she was still doing in bed with him four hours past the crack of dawn. On previous days she would have made her exit three hours earlier only after ensuring his breakfast was ready and he wanted for nothing.
"Where do you go every morning?" he asked her, giving life to the thoughts that had always danced in his mind.
Saelin shrugged.
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It was high noon when they began their return to the tribe. Despite the hunt being ended, the men never broke formation. Always alert with each step, unlike their arrival, they walked with a caution, weapons drawn and arrows notched. It was an almost trained disposition, and Sethlzaar might have been impressed if more troubling things did not plague his mind.It bore it too, he thought, eyes fixed on the carcass of the animal they'd hunted. He had taken aim, and in those moments he had caught sight of the darkness of wisps clinging to its features; del
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Sethlzaar crossed the expanse of the tribe, by-passing the tents as he moved. Wraith's attention twitched at his movement while a boy watched from a tent far removed from the wolf with a focused intensity. The child was no more than his tenth summer, and though he thought himself hidden, Wraith was just as aware of his presence as it was of Sethlzaar's. He passed Cenam where he sat tending to his veils without a word of acknowledgement even when his brother looked up at him. Eventually they would have the talk that was long overdue, and unlike the one he'd had with Narvi, he knew it would be void of platitudes.
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