Den's laughter cuts through the answering calls of the pack.
"Julian! How perfectly delightful. How are you this evening?"
Death. Death death death. The nearness of it makes Den feel--
Something. He's not sure what. Whatever it might be, he finds it thrilling.
"They're called, loosely translated, abyssal or stygian hounds. Not normally so vocal or so bold."
His voice drives one of the nearer beasts to snap at him. He jerks his hand out of the way, contemplates the animal, and then turns his attentions back to Sark. "Cave dwellers. Those who don't know better call them the guardians of the mountains, keeping out foreigners and keeping what's left of the gods' realm safe."
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"Julian! How perfectly delightful. How are you this evening?"
Death. Death death death. The nearness of it makes Den feel--
Something. He's not sure what. Whatever it might be, he finds it thrilling.
"They're called, loosely translated, abyssal or stygian hounds. Not normally so vocal or so bold."
His voice drives one of the nearer beasts to snap at him. He jerks his hand out of the way, contemplates the animal, and then turns his attentions back to Sark. "Cave dwellers. Those who don't know better call them the guardians of the mountains, keeping out foreigners and keeping what's left of the gods' realm safe."