Cutting the Air in a Circle

The two men now stood in front of one another. His Holiness then turned to his porters and waved at them to leave. They did not waste time exiting the camp, for the air had cooled and was now with its treacherous bite, whilst the darkness imparted its sickly innuendoes.

The very next thing the elderly Pope was to do, was odder still.

Out from his cloak he pulled an immensely fine dagger.

In this age one might have thought it to be a knitting needle, for it was so slim. He casually extracted it from a bejewelled wand-like sheath that was studded in moonstones. They flashed blue in the movement, even though there was little light. He began to wave the dagger slowly above his head, cutting the air in a circle around them.

It crossed Francis's mind momentarily that the old man may have been given an unworthy draught - or perhaps, in a lapse of dementedness, he had strayed up into this forest's hide. It was becoming apparent that the elderly Pontiff should not be there at all.

Another possibility (and he did like to contemplate possibilities) was that a phantom (and there were many) of the woods, had persuaded him with some delusion. And, that the real Pope was still with the party in the foothills below.

Quite abruptly his wondering ceased, for it became evident that the elder knew exactly what it was that he was contemplating.

- Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances