So we tracked it. This Akt. It was an old one. All big and hairy, with a bulbous head and all his plumaj sacks, dry and hard. Hanging there like drooping rocks. Hanging off its everywhere. You would think following one when they're old and dried out would be easy, but I swear to you that they get wiley and quick when they stiffen. They have their armour now. They get mean. I guess I would get mean too if I were old and being hunted, but then again I wouldn't have been eating babies, especially one in a golden crib with the sceptre eye pinned to it. Not that we were after revenge for the babies, we were after the Akt purging ground.
Five had died so far because of the Akt. I count my dog Edd in the five. And I'm counting Joessie too. I'm not so sure that the Akt got Edd, I think he may have run off with the wolves. Edd was always a bit more wild than the other dogs, so there's that hope. And Joessie died of eating hartbraek (which looks just like a blood apple, smells like one too, but will kill ya half way through that second bite). The other three, Nack, Grayse, and Bul, were killed by the Aktomauf. There was this spray of people juice when they were gotten. Everywhere. Then nothing was left except for Juff's shoes. With bits of his feet in there. And mysterious wads and chunks, both human and not, scattered about. But that happened was when Nack was leading.
Now the rest of us, the ones who had lived the whole eight days, were finishing breakfast and eyeing the horizon. It became something to fear this far north. It was so close to the Gods, that you could hear Dahn being punished by Zuusc. Every morning before the morning light you could hear it. Then the light of morning would come, as a small apology for the horrors Zuusc brought upon the world. Jereny looked at the horizon, saw it dancing, and covered his ears. Saecey saw it right off too, covered hers and buried her head. And then everyone was covering their ears. Some may have made the mistake to listen when we first got this close, but none were that stupid now.
And it hit.
The cracks of each bone in Dahn's half mortal / half Godle body racked the sunvirgin sky. Wicked cracks. Splinters. White flecks fell against the sky. Flashes. Thin sticks of bone. Dust. The smell of calcium, lightning, and blood pulsed with each break. And then the smell of morning whipped through the camp. And it was over. Many gave a prayer that Dahn had had her voice removed so many years ago. Others a prayer to Zuusc for being merciful enough to stop the torture and let the day reign. These horrid sounds ever'morning now. What a fitting way to begin our daily stalking of a creature that would probably kill everyone in our party if we ever had the misfortune to catch it.
I took my leave this morning, as I did every day this week, to walk away from everyone. Just after breakfast. After the break of the bones. I took out the two letters and hung them in the blumetree. One from her. One from him. I backed up far enough that my arm could show no preference and pulled the Lough Stone out of my pocket. I shut my eyes, threw it, and when I heard it hit, opened them again. The note on the right was glowing soft yellow then orange in a small circle, then faded. Same as every day. The note from him. The Lough Stone answered my question the same ever'morning. I should be protecting him. But I couldn't help it. I had to protect her. Even if everything was telling me otherwise. Besides, he could protect himself. He wasn't too bad with a knife. And he had a sword. And a hatchet... Damned, how could I protect them both?
This was made up of three idioms.
If you didn't catch them they were:
A hard act to follow.
The crack of dawn.
Hit the right note.
I had a fun time with this one. Thanks Dan! Thanks Writing Excuses!
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