madrugada

The early morning light glistened across the grass, the golden wheat glowing against the bleeding sun. The prophet and child had made it through the grasslands and the city of Aurich, and were continuing across the wheatlands. They were getting closer to the outer realms, where they would search for metatron’s tablet and teach the child the language of the angels. This morning, they rose, breaking down last night’s camp. Over breakfast, they prayed to the angels, hoping for a safe passage on the journey ahead.