22nd step: Midwinter

[favorthebold]

[The scene is snowy patch of trees and greenery somewhere in the city. The PCD lies on a random rock. In a clearing between some pine trees, Saul has a huge pale orange fruit-bull in a stranglehold with the cord of his hook. It's a huge bull, with massive, wide-set horns, but the life is slipping out of it now; it thrashes only weakly as its eyes roll back. The wire digs mercilessly into the thick neck.

Saul is pressed against the animal's side, tightening the wire with both hands. He'd apparently had a good fight recently, as his left arm is strapped secure to his side, but the hand itself seems to be functioning perfectly well. His hair is wild and full of snow and his breath comes in quick white puffs. The triumph on his face is fierce and bright.

He gives one last violent tug, then slips forward, gripping the hook. He slides under the bull's reared-back head, and opens its throat with one expert stroke.

The snow steams with a gush of rich arterial blood. The animal groans, then topples.

Saul slips back again, holding onto the bloodied hook. He kneels by the growing pool of blood and drops his head against his chest, closes his eyes, face full of intent as his lips move in silent prayer.

Then he glances up, toward the PCD, and, smiling, speaks very softly:]

Praise the Unconquered Sun. Biana Mithralia, Adstringendum.