| Tarrandor's forepaws
clutched the stone beneath him - it was cold, but that was a good
thing. It kept his mind in the present. Focus was the key.
Acknowledgement of the past and forewarning of the future were
all fine things... but the past held pluralities his soul shied
away from, and the future held scents of unpleasant prey.
The gnoll lived again.. or had never died. But may now be dead. Unless the New One's vision was a true image of the world above, and not a product of dreadful desperation.
Focus. Stone. Darkness. Cold. The stink of undead and soul-poisoned creatured lingered even here. His paw ached where the iron-tailed creature had bitten deep into the muscle.
Would the Soul-gem be a true and worthy prey? A gift from the fates that could drive away the darkness? Or just a false spoor on his species long decline into extinction?
The younger races depended on him too. They may be forgetful, and ignorant, and young, but that did not make them bad people... he shuddered. They were just being led into bad places.