A brilliant dragonfly lighted on gunwale. It’s titanium foil wings flicked the morning light in random sparks.
Surely this is another good omen, Johnathan thought. Finding a leftover bit of spell to propel the small boat through the crisp water being the first. I will meet my brother today.
He had been searching for Thomas for scores of days. In that time he had not once brought to mind an image of his brother. An action, sure. An event, yes. Even a spoken word. But never an image.
Thomas must be a dented scrap by now. His once gleaming brass face would be a green-brown patina indistinguishable from the forest. Even his elegantly scrolled etchs lost to erosion.
Damn. That’s alot harder than I thought it would be to do.