Weaponless: The Beast
Dorus climbed up the rock face to where Torin was crouching. His upper left hand was carrying the bag over his back, the bag containing the wretched armor which was getting heavier and heavier, and all of the rest were sinking claws into the stone in order to climb. He placed one hand on the end of the boulder and pulled himself up so he could see what Torin was watching. “Over by the second cliff,” The illusionist whispered. “Behind the boulder. See?” In this state of the world, with the clouds constantly covering the skies, with ash and rubble omnipresent in the air, Dorus’ eyes were better than Torin and he spotted the creatures easily. They looked like a pack of mongrel, mangled dogs with some important parts subtracted and some strange parts added. They hovered over something, presumably the carcass of the last unfortunate being to travel through these passes.
Posted in From the Writing Desk by Eran with comments disabled.