【生肉搬运】鸟雀Passerine 第六章（下）(6)
In the dark, the god they called the Angel of Death said, “I know, Wilbur. As do I.”
When the blood god returned with his cheeks aglow and a pack full of fresh fish hunted from a king-sized hole in the ice, he found a father and a son speaking fondly of times long gone, their laughter soft and their faces bright. For once, there were more things to be said than not, and moments of silence were few and far in between. They ate and drank and toasted to murmured names of the dead and buried. They told stories, as people used to tell stories of an immortal hunter and a harbinger of death. They spoke of gardens and forests, apple orchards and a woman whose son inherited her hair and eyes and heart. But above all, they spoke of a thunderstorm bottled in a boy, the sun at the center of everything.
And if there were any ghosts that haunted their reminiscence, they kept their silence.
“We’re almost there,” Techno called out. “It’s just over this hill.”
He looked back to find Wilbur slowly making his way up the slope. Philza hovered close behind, grimacing every time his son slipped or slid against the snow. Wilbur, in true Wilbur fashion, had decided he did not need any help, blaming his blunders entirely on his new fur-lined cloak and not on his inexperience with maneuvering a frozen incline. If he weren’t so sure Wilbur would retaliate with an arrow to his shoulder, Techno would have laughed at his flailing attempts.
When the blood god returned with his cheeks aglow and a pack full of fresh fish hunted from a king-sized hole in the ice, he found a father and a son speaking fondly of times long gone, their laughter soft and their faces bright. For once, there were more things to be said than not, and moments of silence were few and far in between. They ate and drank and toasted to murmured names of the dead and buried. They told stories, as people used to tell stories of an immortal hunter and a harbinger of death. They spoke of gardens and forests, apple orchards and a woman whose son inherited her hair and eyes and heart. But above all, they spoke of a thunderstorm bottled in a boy, the sun at the center of everything.
And if there were any ghosts that haunted their reminiscence, they kept their silence.
“We’re almost there,” Techno called out. “It’s just over this hill.”
He looked back to find Wilbur slowly making his way up the slope. Philza hovered close behind, grimacing every time his son slipped or slid against the snow. Wilbur, in true Wilbur fashion, had decided he did not need any help, blaming his blunders entirely on his new fur-lined cloak and not on his inexperience with maneuvering a frozen incline. If he weren’t so sure Wilbur would retaliate with an arrow to his shoulder, Techno would have laughed at his flailing attempts.
电梯里的苏柔上瘾第六章
