The nuance of biofeedback and dreams

It was time. The silver moon lay overhead. Golden silence flowed throughout the palace. No guards roamed the gates. The wolves ruled the lower quarters at night. Unpreturbed, the figure approached. No archer would see him, no warning call would sound until long past useful. A lone howl, a summons, cascaded through the quiet. The promise of blood would be answered this night. And in through the gates did he slip.

What guards would be rousing, the rush of defenders to the lunar siege, would not see him. The earth had answered the stallion in his quest, hiding him from sight in the shadows. Onward he would press, through throngs of warriors beset, and torn asunder from the wyld's wolves. Blood, bone and flesh would mingle with wood that never knew an axe, nor teeth that had slain that which was undeserved. The chaos of life would flow behind the guardian this night. His journey would move him through alabaster halls, rich with generations of life. Past grand halls, art and expression for all to see. Through quarters that housed generations of caregivers to the ancient stone. It's true lifeblood, that would be spared as the sun would rise in the morning.

An oak door, would stop him. Quietly set apart from the many doors. Calling him, the stallion would pause, entering to marble tile of a bath-house. The shine of the moon would bring a comfort, until the sounds of movement with the grand tub nearby, drowning out even the bloodbath in his wake. As he walked towards the tub, hooves clacking on the tile. A colt would look back up at him, missing an arm, yet smiling wide at the new figure. "Epeh?" he asked quietly. A smiling giggle his own confirmation.

Without a second thought, he reached down, a towel in hand to lift and dry the colt. Smiling himself, he set to playing and keeping the young colt entertained. "I couldn't either. But you know that, seeing him." Where blows might have come, or battle joined, only a nod followed, the pair only smiling as they dried the soaked young figure this night. They would smile, they would talk, into the night, as day would march on. Yet theirs was not the only meeting.

Two figures strode through the aether surrounding the castle, one followed the wolves, seeing to both as judge, to jury. The afterlife itself their destination. No light would hallmark her entry into the bath-house, only its absence. Her counterpart would flow from the skies above, stars holding to a chance that those whom wished to see a new life at the end of it all. the light that shone upon the airy balcony to meet. Words needed not saying between the two, yet a look through, at what had occurred this night, both would reach the same view, the same anger at the machinations that fate had woven to possible. And a vow silently exchanged between both to ensure she would be brought to justice for the crimes she had done against destiny.

(A little scene last night/this morning, spawned from an idea that lodged itself in my head. And I had to write it down in some form beyond the day banishes these as it so often does.)