There was a sound like a great bird taking flight, and then he was gone. Xxx His long raincoat flapped in the wind, slower and more deliberately than it should have. Sarachan. At last, he stepped back. At last, he stepped back. He was at the clearing now. His fingers slid over the slick bark of the tree as his back arched, his heels leaving the ground. He’d not heard Sarachan come close. Sweat rolled down Brentt’s back in the cold air. He was now The Waiting One. There was unmistakeable urgency in his actions, mirrored in the way that his teeth dug deeper into the skin of his neck, the tips just breaking the surface. Brentt found himself pushed against the tree, his back arched so his chest was flat against the trunk, while his legs were still half a yard away from it.
