XXV

"Ahh. Why is he lain like the slave of death?"

He moved closer to him. His staff was his eyes. His eyes had no reconciliation with light. Lanky light had pored them that one for the other did not know what to do or say. He'd been like that since forever and gloom had began to appeal to his senses. Seeing the rays of his gloom pleased him than seeing the rays of the eyes of the apt azure. He'd learnt to make sound of the calm. Learnt to make awe of the sane. He'd learnt to make rage of the cool. He was no exception as the cod. Only that he was blinded by nature, the Cod, by rage. He moved closer.

His instinct had told him before his eyes. He had had it in mind to go into the hut, but he'd halted by the oak tree. He'd felt a pulpy presence there. He knew that he needed to stop and of course he did. He'd danced his staffs towards the root of the tree. Well, he'd missed. He tried again. He missed. But he wouldn't give up. His instinct was strong. He knew when a human was some