Dom Thornwood's Arc

Chapter 2 of 14

Dawn came gray through the cabin window. Dom rose stiffly, the journal still warm against his ribs. He pushed open the door for air and froze on the threshold. The moth-stag stood in the clearing. White flank, wide antlers, dusty wings folded like sails. Its lantern eyes were fixed on him. It had not come for the cabin. It had come for the book in his coat. Dom did not move. He remembered the journal's warning. The stag reads want before you know you want. He emptied his mind of the journal, of the rider he needed to find, of every plan. He let his hands hang loose. He stopped breathing. The stag held its ground. Faint blue prints glowed beneath its hooves, pressed into earth that seemed to belong to somewhere else. For a long moment, the two of them shared the still air. Then Dom's heel shifted on the porch board. A small creak. Want flickered across his face before he could stop it. The wings opened. Dust drifted from them like ash. The stag turned and was gone between the trees, leaving only the glowing prints behind. Dom stepped down and knelt by them. They were still warm. The journal had been right. He could not do this alone. Footsteps came up the path behind him. Dom turned. A tall man stood at the tree line, brown hair wild, bare arms scarred, eyes on the glowing tracks. "You saw it too," the wanderer said. Dom closed his hand on the journal. The second rider had found him first.