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CAVES |
Now Xander sat, half way around the world from where he’d been born, and stared into a cave, which was rumored to contain all the wonders one could want if only one could face the horrors. |
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ONE
HUNDRED SLAYERS |
One hundred slayers. Xander noted the significance of the number somewhere in the back of his mind as he replaced his gun in the holster near his armpit. The inevitable surge of nausea hit and he leant to the left to vomit, careful not to leave any trace on the body. |
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PACK |
Hot, hot breath blowing over his skin, and he whines and moves into it, away from it. Restless. Hungry. Waiting for dark. Waiting for the others. Were are they? Moves back to *salt-pine-copper-musk*… Kyle? Kyle. That’s right. Names are important, remember them. Licks and worries at a salty spot on Kyle’s neck, snuffles into the scent of pack. Good. |