Issue #43- A Shattered Clasp

A Shattered Clasp

*~~~~~*

“How can you smell anything with the stench that surrounds us?” Mikel inquires of Gallo who kneels in the reddish sand of the Netherrealm, his palm filled with soil and his nose a mere inch above the dirt.

“You worry on proper shot placement Guardian and not on my skills,” the bestial responds inhaling deeply as grains leak through his dark fingers.

“Do you fret a stray round may find your skull as opposed to a dark creatures?” Mikel asks as a heated wind moves across the desolate landscape, blowing long strands of onyx hair in front of his silver eyes.

“Many would argue that there is little difference between myself and a beast of this realm,” Mikel catches over the man’s reply as he scans the realm behind the gate.” He came from the East,” Gallo announces before Mikel can say a word.

Rayvenwing nods and turns his face into the searing winds and minute particles of sand that ride along in the zephyr. Gallo rises, dusting his right hand on the leg of his jeans while taking a moment to breath in the thick aroma of roses and brimstone. This world was nothing but shifting dunes of scarlet sands for as far as gun-metal eyes could see.

“After you Guardian,” Gallo prompts bowing elegantly while extending his hand in a courtly manner to the East.

“Why is it you wish me to go first? As tracker shouldn`t YOU lead the way lest the boots of an Echelon whore like myself foul the scent trail?”

Gallo straightens then smirks at the towering male to his left.”True, you do reek of servitude but YOU Guardian have the guns.”

“You are a most royal pain in my ass,” Mikel grumbles before setting forth due east while ignoring the pleased chuckles from his tracker who follows. Soon enough though the tracker is in the lead, stopping every half mile or so, sometimes backtracking to refresh the trail, while gritty sand swirls around the two men in small dust devils.

“I can see why only demons and dark beasts call this home,” Mikel mutters as they crest a dune, mercurial eyes watering slightly from the constant irritant wafted into them.

“And one of your realm,” Gallo interjects pacing around a small dead tree until his body lowers and he scoops another handful of sand from near the trunks decayed base.

“Hmmm.”

The ani-morph cocks a brow at the Guardian`s response as he drags in a lung full of various aromas. Let the man doubt Gallo thinks. The truth would be revealed he reasons coming to his boots while letting the sand run back to the ground.

“Eastward still,” the black man states coming around the crippled limbs of the dead tree to stand beside the Guardian. His amber eyes follow the direction silver ones are intent on.

“Any ideas?” Gallo asks seeing the two shadowed shapes barreling towards them.

“Were-bruins, big ones,” Mikel answers flatly.” Damn big ones.”