He watches me, from his perch in the sky, as I walk into the morning. His presence is comforting. His presence is terrifying. Is he there to protect? Is he on the prowl? Does he do anything but watch?
He is the hunter, after all. He could be hunting the beasts hiding in the shadows around me or he could be hunting me. How far does his star sword reach? How sharp is its burning blade? What other weapons does he have and how skilled is he with them?
The legend is just an imaginative push away from jumping free of the sky. And when, not if, he does will he stand beside me and guard my journey or will he quickly strike me down before leaping back into the heavens, dragging me behind as another trophy to add to his collection. I wouldn’t make much of a trophy, but the possibility still exists.
Sometimes it is the smallest of adversaries that prove the fiercest and most dangerous.
Trembles in the shadows that plague my path draw my attention. There was movement, I know there was, but there is nothing my eyes can see. The demons that haunt my dreams roam freely just beyond my sight. They deepen the chill of the morning. They make my skin crawl. The hunter above could easily rescue me from their grip of their fangs and talons if he chose. I let my eyes turn to the sky as his unknown motives are momentarily less worrisome than the flashes and tremors on my plane.
However, I don’t gaze upon the hunter too long. I don’t want to draw attention to myself. I don’t want to make eye contact. He could be my salvation. He could be my destruction. His presence is comforting. His presence is terrifying.