![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
theonecalledwanderThere, hidden behind the baleful din of the baying dogs... there is another sound. I first catch it at a time when the uneven cacophony dies down a bit quicker, and thereafter I am able to almost pick it out in successive outbursts.
I draw my wand from its hidden sheath in my walking stick, and with it weave a web in the air to catch the voices of the dogs before they can reach our ears. I have to weave a few additional strands to trap the ones that are markedly higher or lower in pitch than the main, but it's quick work and when it's done only one sound remains.
It is a truly hellish sound, an unholy screeching shriek that no living beast's throat could possibly form. I know this for certainty, for I know that no living beast is making the noise. I heard it earlier in the day, in broad daylight, as I stood in the square myself.
"Someone's pumping water," Bel says.
I draw my wand from its hidden sheath in my walking stick, and with it weave a web in the air to catch the voices of the dogs before they can reach our ears. I have to weave a few additional strands to trap the ones that are markedly higher or lower in pitch than the main, but it's quick work and when it's done only one sound remains.
It is a truly hellish sound, an unholy screeching shriek that no living beast's throat could possibly form. I know this for certainty, for I know that no living beast is making the noise. I heard it earlier in the day, in broad daylight, as I stood in the square myself.
"Someone's pumping water," Bel says.