Author's note...My first venture into this fandom. I have admired Belphegor's sketches related to this series for many years, and took far too long to investigate the source.
Spun Sugar
His fingers trace the contours
Of the split and knotted wood,
Cast shadows in the lamplight's feeble glow;
Then find the cool compacted earth,
The dark unyielding walls.
The deadline passed so many hours ago.
The radio stays silent,
Disregarding all attempts
To coax it into life by will alone.
A pause in endless pacing
Brings no comfort, no relief;
So much remains unanswered and unknown.
Too soon to risk exposure
And investigate the cause;
Too late to stop all danger, each mistake.
As fragile as spun sugar
Are the threads he has to hold;
How easily can such connections break.
A hundred different reasons
Why this mission might have failed;
Why those who risked it all could be so late.
A plan betrayed, a false response,
A random night patrol;
A hundred scenes too bleak to contemplate.
He sighs, begins to pace
Along his old well-trodden path;
It isn't in his nature to be still.
The rhythm helps suppress
Unproven worries, nameless fears.
Ten steps, then turn to pace again,
Until...
A scuffle, and a scraping sound;
A muffled curse, a thud
As feet connect with ladder rungs ahead.
Four shadowed forms are counted
In descent; his pacing stops,
He moves to greet bone weary friends instead.
Brief details of the night's events
Are all he needs for now,
For those who matter most are safe inside.
Another scheme enlivened
By the fickle whims of Fate.
Extraordinary odds, once more, defied.
~0~
