09-19-2014, 08:25 PM
The men lined themselves along the riverbank. The old man took position in the middle and was flanked by the younger. Elias held the slab of meat warily, thankful it was wrapped in paper once more. He was drenched in black, but he was not keen on the idea of blood smeared across his chest. The washing alone.
Out of no where, the old man shoved a spike through the ice. It broke into awkward shards, and water splashed up and over the hole. Eli exchanged a look with Veso, whom stood alongside. Either of them would have done the deed with far easier efforts, but the old man hacked and jabbed forcefully. They let him have his way. Eli smiled to himself.
Once the riverbank was free to slosh at their feet, the old man had them all kneel. Quickly, the snow turned his kneecaps into cold, wet discs, but Eli was too flushed with excitement to care. His eyes dived through the black waters, begging to see that shadow dart, begging like a man dying of thirst in the desert. He needed to see the thing again. His soul ached to catch it.
And do what? They'd soon find out.
Seven packages of paper were unwrapped and one by one tossed into the water. Where river met meat, pink splashed up and on top of the edge of that icy ceiling. All eyes were on Tony, who was the last to admit the sacrifice, and the group held a collective gasp when he released it into the water.
The old man flattened his face to the ground, babbling on in his old language what sounded like the phrases of a chant, and Elias watched what might happen with baited breath.
A minute later, the old man crawled to his feet and clamored off without turning back.
Eli's gaze drew dark. Nothing had happened. "I think we've been had, boys,"
he said with a shark-like gleam of hatred.
Out of no where, the old man shoved a spike through the ice. It broke into awkward shards, and water splashed up and over the hole. Eli exchanged a look with Veso, whom stood alongside. Either of them would have done the deed with far easier efforts, but the old man hacked and jabbed forcefully. They let him have his way. Eli smiled to himself.
Once the riverbank was free to slosh at their feet, the old man had them all kneel. Quickly, the snow turned his kneecaps into cold, wet discs, but Eli was too flushed with excitement to care. His eyes dived through the black waters, begging to see that shadow dart, begging like a man dying of thirst in the desert. He needed to see the thing again. His soul ached to catch it.
And do what? They'd soon find out.
Seven packages of paper were unwrapped and one by one tossed into the water. Where river met meat, pink splashed up and on top of the edge of that icy ceiling. All eyes were on Tony, who was the last to admit the sacrifice, and the group held a collective gasp when he released it into the water.
The old man flattened his face to the ground, babbling on in his old language what sounded like the phrases of a chant, and Elias watched what might happen with baited breath.
A minute later, the old man crawled to his feet and clamored off without turning back.
Eli's gaze drew dark. Nothing had happened. "I think we've been had, boys,"
he said with a shark-like gleam of hatred.