No way is Amelia letting go. Even with the hunters looming by, she won't missed this chance, with her prey so close and the shade locked into solidness for once. She tumbles down when Stocke pulls, one wing pressed against the shade. It's weird and uncomfortable even in his solid state, more like condensed smoke than flesh.
Truce, he says, and her feathers fluff up. Amelia's first instinct is to refuse – the shade stole from her and attacked her, working with him is beneath her honor - but she hates hunters far more than thieves. "Agreed."
She can hear them shout now. Back on the sand, the human stirs and lifts his head, empty eye sockets staring ahead. The hope of rescue sharpens into one last burst of energy in his useless body, and he yells, "They're here, the harpy and another one, help - "
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Date: 2016-07-15 08:56 pm (UTC)From:Truce, he says, and her feathers fluff up. Amelia's first instinct is to refuse – the shade stole from her and attacked her, working with him is beneath her honor - but she hates hunters far more than thieves. "Agreed."
She can hear them shout now. Back on the sand, the human stirs and lifts his head, empty eye sockets staring ahead. The hope of rescue sharpens into one last burst of energy in his useless body, and he yells, "They're here, the harpy and another one, help - "