Early morning, on the porch of the Guest House. There's a TON of fog. Word Count »
The jackal stood, arms folded, and stared out at the fog. While he was not often up this early, he had in fact been up all night. Since Sa’adat and Talitha’s disappearance, the healer had spent his days working long nights. His fire kept him warm inside, but the need for both bodily relief and food. There was a decent stock within the Mansion these days, especially since Ezekiel’s newest propositions were beginning. If what he had discussed with the jackal was coming to pass, then Inferni would change for the better.
At least that was the plan. Wrapped in the heavy woolen poncho, Enkiel’s red eyes scanned the length of the fog infested land. It was as if he had passed into the other life. Still, deep, and a smoky white-gray, he could see only a few feet out before the landscape was swept up into nothingness. While unnerving, he had seen far greater things in his travels. Now that they were concluded, however, the healer would settle for what he could get. A single fine hand lifted the warm bowl to his mouth as he lapped up the tea prepared not long ago. It was hardly as well-prepared as Sa’adat could have made, but she was gone and he would settle for what he could manage.
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