writing_shadows

The water was a balm against his skin. He felt the warmth of the shower drift in to his tired muscles as he leant against the cool wet wall He was tired, the past few days had been troubling and exhausting. The Greys, the Tik Tik, the damn stupid Anshega, but he had done all he could and now had five minutes.

He stepped out of the shower and shifted ‘til the silver wolf appeared dripping in the centre of his bathroom. As was his want he slowed his breathing and stood simply listening, straining his senses across his house.

He felt thud of his heart pulsing within his chest, the slick tiled floor was chill through the soft pads of his paws. Freshly baked bread drifted from the kitchens and mingled with freshly mown grass. His mouth watered as he tasted the cold meats hung in the larder and he could hear the mower distant on the lawn outside.

The drip, drip of the showerhead boomed in his ears as he was acutely aware of every nuance of his home. No shouting, no smoke, only the dull throbbing of his allies pressing against but never breaking the Gauntlet.

He could feel the burning smug satisfaction of Warm Heart on a Dark Night, the solid dependability of Heart of Oak. The quiet thoughtful watch of Under the Stairs and from outside the soft trilling of Music in the Trees mingled with the crying loneliness of Voice in the Dark who dwelt deep in the well.

Further away he could feel the lingering arrogance and malevolence pervading the surrounding woodland. Everything was normal. Even the soft seductive smell of his sister was a comfort now.

Everything was quiet, everything relaxed.

Churchill uttered a low growl that could have been a sigh and shook himself violently water spraying across the bathroom and padded into his study. Lao-Shu would be back soon and the quiet would be broken.

Relaxation would have to wait for a different five minutes.