(Quest) For want of a spark

This was a stupid idea. He would say he did not know how he got himself into this situation, but he knew exactly how he got here. They talked about the dead rising and he had to see more. It did not hurt that the boy who asked for his help had incredible bone structure. He was wonderfully symmetrical and perfectly proportioned. His skull was wonderfully round and his cheek bones high and well defined. Any excuse to continue to talk to the boy would have been enough, but this was a really good one. Seeing the dead rise would be really cool and the boy had agreed to explain what was going on while they traveled.

Knowing that there was a good chance that they were going to be cutting it close, he left the majority of his skeletal entourage back in town. He told them to guard the town knowing it was a bullshit order. They could not guard anything. All they could understand of the order was to stand there. He just had to hope that looking menacing was enough to give the villagers a false sense of security. The only member he brought was a proghorn antelope skeleton that he kept for speed. Getting speeds around fifty-five miles an hour meant that he could flee faster than most other people. It could not out run every beast, but it could out run a lot of trouble if it came to it. In this particular case, it meant that when they got the fire charm he could make it back before anyone else would have been able to.

The boy walked along side him and explained. The cold winds and snow swirled around them as they went to the shrine. He had to respect their methods. Enlisting a fire spirit was a really good way to deal with these problems. The commune had been underground and had used all sorts of magic to maintain living conditions down there. They managed to live in a world of monsters and weather while he had been cloistered in a sanctuary from it all. He showed it too. His skin was pale and soft. His body was weak and shook like a leaf in this cold weather. His clothes were not meant for it. Where they wore furs and layers of wool, he wore a thin layer of silk that exposed much of his delicate skin to the weather. The flakes of snow blew into his eyes making it hard to see. The others were used to these things and knew to take precautions. They had hats and scarves while he had nothing. The wind bit through even their coats, but Mictlan was worse off. Even the slightest breeze chilled him to the bone. When the gusts kicked up they cut him like a knife. The words of the other boy were muffled by his scarf, but he made himself clear. Mictlan did his best to listen, but could not muster the effort to be an active participant.

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