Mnesyn watched them, unable to tear her gaze away as a dragon settled in to hunt. Memories stirred within her. Dressed in night's fine cloak, that dragon could have been Eskharath, or Aviforth, or Aureliath. Her mama had told stories of them. The auntie who might have been. The uncles and their sacrifices.
Futility leaked from every pore, human and dragon alike. Death surrounded them just as it did those herdbeasts. With a shiver, she drew her wings closer, turning away from the feasting, death-bringing dragon. Small furrows had been gouged into the dirt, the physical sign of restless thoughts and weary hearts.
They had to fight, of course. She knew it. Her siblings must surely know it as their duty. There was no escaping the evils of Thread, and like so many before and so many to come, they would rise and flame it from the skies. Some might even survive the end of the Pass. The thought compounded her misery more.
We fight until there is nothing left of this world but ash and ember... She mused aloud, thoroughly lost in the grey fogs of her melancholy.
demon_pachabel
