A Moment’s Quiet ~ Abigail and the Wind Wolf, part 3

“I am known as Kir H’dar. . .”

He is Talking!
Well he is talking inside her mind

Three days and he is mobile
He has lapped water but refuses to eat

“Where are you from?
Are there other wolves that fly?”

“You are called Abigail of the Seventh People
(His name for humans)
Will you please let me answer one question before asking the next?”

“Sorry.”

He is curled before a fire
And his grey eyes rest on her
He huffs

“I am from an alternate place
And yes, most things there fly.”

Her mind fills with flocks of rabbit/bird hybrids
Sky dragons that look like tattooed windsocks
And beautiful pups!
She claps her hands in delight

“Why won’t you eat?”

“Nothing here can sustain me
I will need to run the sky soon.”

He locks her eyes
“Thank you gentle one.”

“Think nothing of it.”

“As you wish
But I never undervalue a strong spirit.”

“What was the shadow thing?”

“They are the Wyern.
They feed upon the kindness of your heart.
I am a Tracker
I hunt them.”

“Why didn’t I know it was here?”

“The Wyern was feeding on you
Its kind are adept at such deceptions”

“Are there any others here?”

“No
The balance of the shadows here are natural.”

“Will it come back?”

“It is quite dead. . .
Oh, I see, there could be others
I sense that they are not new to this world
And if one found you
Others might. . .”

“What will I do?
I don’t want to be food”

And he laughs
In as much as a wolf can laugh

“No one does gentle one.
Hmmmmmm I suppose you could track them.”

She stares

“You can see them now.
With a little training
A little fine tuning. . .
Who knows what is possible?”

Published by

Chyfrin the Celtic poet

Artist, Poet, Electrical/Biomedical Engineer, Actor, Playwright, Set construction, Educator, Lover of womankind and single malt scotch

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