Faint cracks found his ears, far off but coming closer.A deep, crunching and groaning sound ricocheted in his skull.Saer recognized it as the first time he put pressure on snow.
Familiar crackling came next.
Fire.
Heated light danced behind his eyelids this time, and he yearned to lean towards it.Had he somehow returned to Hell?
A voice cried out in alarm, and the footsteps halted.Not Lucifer.Not Neyu.He didn’t know anyone or anything else.
The voice was joined by another, then a handful more, all deeper in tone.They spoke in a language Saer didn’t recognize, but the patterns of speech suggested agitation.
The steady rush of flames pulled nearer, and his eyelids flickered.They slit open.
Shadows wavered in and out of his blurred vision.Saer tried to swallow, but his throat refused to move.
How did he get here?
A jutting structure hung overhead, and the shadows ducked under it to draw closer, speaking in disconcerted tones just above a whisper.All walked on two legs and looked around half Saer’sDaemoenicheight—if he were standing.They carried pointed sticks tipped with sharp rocks and packs on their backs.Four held torches.
Saer’s nostrils flared as he struggled to draw that warm air into himself with a feeble inhale.If the creatures would come closer…whatever they were…
His attention drifted past them to where pine trees stood.Branches lay in broken heaps along the sides of those nearest him.He must have fallen from the sky and rolled to where he lay now, under this rocky ledge, swallowed by the cold.He remembered none of it.
The two-legged creatures gestured with animated motions, pointing at his body.Something fur-lined covered their frames and most of their heads.Animal skin.Pelts?One turned its hooded face towards Saer enough for the torchlight to catch on its features.
The being’s cheekbones jutted, gaunt but stoic.It looked rail-thin, yet bore fire.What sustained them, fed them, if not fire?
Other similarities caught his attention.Two eyes.A nose.A mouth.Hair.The face of an imperfect angel.Did they house what his maker needed?Were they the key to returning to Neyu?
His heart skipped.
Their skin looked fragile—like Lucifer’s skin.
Each time their arguing rose, one would shush them, like they feared disturbing Saer.
Closer,he willed.He needed the fire they bore.
The one nearest Saer let loose a disgusted sound and snatched one of the torches from its bearer.Lip curled up, the skinny creature stomped towards him.
Something emanated off the two-legged being, warm yet not heat.It washed against Saer’s skin, and he flared his nostrils again, like he could smell it.Whatever it was, instinct told him it belonged to him.
Saer forgot the newness once the creature crouched, torch a hand’s breadth from his face.
The ribbon of flame licked his skin, and he exhaled a relieved growl.
Shrieking, the creature dropped the torch.It scrabbled for the pointed stick at its back while the rest of the two-legged beings screamed and rushed forward.
The torch rolled against Saer.He sucked the blazing heat in his body just as the first creature lunged.
Pain.Piercing, bright, and sudden.Saer’s cry left as an agonized bark, his throat raw with disuse.The pointed stick lay embedded in his chest while the creature pressed forward, pushing the weapon deeper.Crimson blood gushed out of the wound, tendrils of thicker steam skimming off the fluid the moment it met the crisp, forest air.
Saer rolled, using what energy the torch brought him to push upright just as the remaining two-legged beings reached him.They hollered and stabbed forward, pierced his flesh, right hip, left lower leg, abdomen, pushing him into the jutting stone wall.Again, and more, they stabbed harder than he could have anticipated with their bony limbs.Saer pulled at the heat of their torches, siphoning the flames.The burst of energy provided enough strength to yank at the spears, rending them from his thick muscle or breaking them off at their entry points, and he roared.
Stumbling backwards, the creatures regained their footing one by one.
Scarlet ichor spilled from Saer’s wounds, down his body, coating his silver hooves.
They glared at him with dark eyes, chests heaving and weapons poised.Not one fled.
