All His Wrath

“Zarentil has chosen to tarry for a moment, as the connection between sister and brother empowers the mother. The elder female regains purpose and hope, even now as we wait upon the mountain’s slope,” Lohxnahr hummed. “This is an unexpected mercy and great help in a time when they are far from the other. We do well to receive it, as a weakly woman is more difficult to rescue. Yes?”

“Hm,” Anders said, nodding. “In that case, we might as well be strengthened, as well.” Fishing around in his small canvas satchel, Anders handed Danielle an apple and tossed another one to Freida.

Bettina sat on a spur of rock, about eight meters to their left. The spur had a horn of rock protruding up like a saddle. Zarentil was perched atop it and faced Bettina. Neither of them had moved for several minutes.

“So, is that what Zarentil is doing with Bettina? They look sort of like they’re in a trance together,” Danielle said. “Or praying.” Then she took a huge bite from the apple.

“Trance, no,” Lohxnahr replied. “The deepest of concentration, yes. Focusing one’s attention intently on the single purpose of helping another is a blessed thing. Trances too often mean the emptying of one’s attention, allowing another’s to inject a new purpose of their making.”

“That’s creepy sounding, Lohxnahr,” Danielle said, her nose wrinkled.

“Quite so!” he replied.

“How much longer will we be?” Anders asked, just before taking three bites of apple, making it hard to shut his mouth.

Glancing over at Zarentil, Lohxnahr leapt up, using his wings to balance himself against the wind. “Now, it appears! Quickly now.”

With no chance of finishing what he’d started, Anders spit out the remaining apple chunks, only to have them fly back at him because of a strong gust.

“Ah, for pity’s sake!” he cried. “Blast!” Bits of partially chewed apple clung to his patterned wool sweater.