Doa's Gift

The Sleeping Death

The Sleeping Death

“The hot days and cold nights make my bones ache,” the large silhouette at the edge of the flickering fire sneers. A stones throw away a small figure wrapped in a dark wool cloak huddled on the ground slowly moves sounding out a low hissing voice “ you think complaining is going to change the facts. We got to be up here whether you like it or not, you nip whit. Of course we could always run home with our tails between our legs and say the weather wasn’t to our liking. Now keep your thoughts to yourself so I can sleep.” The bear like figure shrugs and then returns to his bolder like posture near the small fading fire that sends dancing shades across his hairy face. Above the glowing embers the stars are frozen in the darkness only disturbed by the scythe of a moon that slices through their ranks. A ice laced breeze gently glides amongst the shadows dancing with the fires remaining breaths. Just as the large man was again feeling the chill seep through is crude metal plate armor the echo of a distant rock fall instantly gave him a rise in temperature. Stirring from his drowsiness he raises to his full height, that which would dwarf many of his kind, and peers into the darkness. No other sounds brake the silence other than the low hissing of his companions sleeping breath. As his pupils begin to dilate the darkness surrounding their perch begins to fade into clearer shapes of the jagged rocks and brush of the canyon below them. Taking several steps forward towards the cliffs edge the mammoth human takes a deep breath to inspect the biting breeze swirling up from the depths. “There here,” he mumbles to himself as he notices the faint smell of rotten flesh being carried by Doa’s breath.

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