Thirty-eight – 02

[This post is from Phelan’s point of view.]

“There’s something out there.”

Phelan forced himself not to jerk toward the unexpected sound of Leinth’s voice. He hadn’t heard her approach, hadn’t sensed her—probably because he’d been so focused on the wards.

Instead, he only nodded.

“It’s getting closer,” she murmured, coming up alongside him.

“Do you know what it is?” he asked her softly.

Leinth grimaced, crossing her arms tightly against her chest. With a slight start, Phelan realized she’d eschewed her usual cloak for jeans and a linen shirt, looking more like a young soccer mom than an ancient goddess of winter and the night. Around her neck hung a silverwork pendant on a matching chain, an old piece in a style he recognized.

Seamus gave that to her. Seamus made that for her.

How long ago?

“You’re giving me that look,” she said.

Phelan barely suppressed a wince. “It’s just that you haven’t answered. About what it is.”

“Mostly because you’re giving me that look.” Leinth sighed and shook her head. “It’s familiar and not in a good way. This said, it could be anything. I’m hoping it’s not Yam back for another shot.”

A shudder wracked him. “Whatever brought him back—or preserved him—probably idn’ thave anything pleasant in mind, did it?”

“Assuming it’s anything capable of thought.”

Phelan shivered. “I’m not sure if that makes it worse or not.”

“our world runs on chaos, Wanderer,” Leinth said, staring at him for a long moment. “That’s something we need to remember. The moment we set order to something, the universe will try to tear it apart. A known fact.”

“Morbid,” Phelan said.

“Realistic,” Leinth corrected. “I assume someone’s already rallying the troops, since you’re still out here.”

“I sent Marin back,” Phelan said. “She sensed it, too, before we heard the drums. We both did.”

Both let ourselves believe it was nothing.

“They’re getting closer,” Leinth said.

Phelan only nodded.

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