He means to ask, but each man wears his linens, his scars and his secrets, and Lee Chang has ever worn his revulsion of the creatures clear. If he knows them hungered — if the miners' dissolution into pangs of pained starvation is to be traced — then perhaps there is seed of wonder to sow into the proposition that they might be drawn to blood.
The scent, metallic against the burning absence of scent and the crisp awareness of pine and screeching snow underfoot, does nothing for the dead who inch closer. Like animals, thoughtful before shapes they do not recognise, testing first their own strength, then that of their intended prey — trying it for the chance of becoming a predator.
Twirled in one hand, Bichen draws a long, corseted blinding line in night's dark, teasing ice shards, while Lan Wangji searches the forests behind them for other inhabitants. The creatures there, the winds that seem, for once, deafeningly silent. Lick of his lips yields them barren, dry, ached.
"Hold." For once, beneath the heavens, wait and take caution. "Too dark to pursue in the woods. Better we both lure them to the lake."
And decimate them there, away from the farmhouse and the trove of waiting victims within.
no subject
He means to ask, but each man wears his linens, his scars and his secrets, and Lee Chang has ever worn his revulsion of the creatures clear. If he knows them hungered — if the miners' dissolution into pangs of pained starvation is to be traced — then perhaps there is seed of wonder to sow into the proposition that they might be drawn to blood.
The scent, metallic against the burning absence of scent and the crisp awareness of pine and screeching snow underfoot, does nothing for the dead who inch closer. Like animals, thoughtful before shapes they do not recognise, testing first their own strength, then that of their intended prey — trying it for the chance of becoming a predator.
Twirled in one hand, Bichen draws a long, corseted blinding line in night's dark, teasing ice shards, while Lan Wangji searches the forests behind them for other inhabitants. The creatures there, the winds that seem, for once, deafeningly silent. Lick of his lips yields them barren, dry, ached.
"Hold." For once, beneath the heavens, wait and take caution. "Too dark to pursue in the woods. Better we both lure them to the lake."
And decimate them there, away from the farmhouse and the trove of waiting victims within.