Chapter Text
1686
The blade hit the evening light, shining into Remus’s eye as he looked down at the damp grass. He squinted, drawing his head back so that it was blocked by his father’s silhouette beside him.
It hadn’t yet snowed, but the dew from that morning had stuck—clinging to the blades like it meant to stay and bring forth the harsher weather. Remus pulled his coat around himself tighter.
John Heather stood near the gate, speaking to his father about the previous Sunday's sermon. About the importance of life and living it well—honestly. About the word of God and his bidding.
He hardly stuttered as he brought the axe down, and Remus watched as the head split from the body.
As the sheep let out one last cry moments before being slaughtered.
Remus wondered why it had cried—it couldn’t see.
He wondered if it had cried out for its mother—from the cold or the noise around it. If it had cried out because it had been laid on its side or had somehow known what was to come. If it was because the sheep had known it had been born unlucky—a travesty.
If it had cried for the harsh winter months to come, moments before it was spared from them. Remus doesn’t think the animal could possibly fathom what it meant to wake up every morning and breathe.
To stand on two legs and wander.
But Remus wondered what its last moments had been like. If it had thought about anything of significance or if it had just been another average breath.
The head lulled away from the body—John having brought down the axe hard enough to sever it in one blow—and it rocked back and forth for a moment on the soft, uneven grass before stopping at Remus’s feet.
He stared at the empty pockets where the eyes should have been.
Again, the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor.
—Matthew 4:8
1691
A gasp left Remus’s throat as he felt the man’s hand tighten around his throat. Long nails pressed in, shifting the soft tendons and muscle under the skin. It was uncomfortable, but so was life, and he had grown to appreciate the order of the world.
“Please,” Remus begged, lifting his hips and looking up into those same gray eyes. “Please—it’s late. I must return home soon, or father will notice I’m not in bed.”
Sirius’s hand skated up his neck, fingers pressing into Remus’s jaw. Tilting his head back roughly and to the side, he could only take a jagged breath, glancing down at Sirius’s chest. Sharp nails bit into skin, and he whimpered again.
“Yet you still came,” Sirius spoke softly—reverently, almost. “And risk your father waking up to an empty house.”
“He will be up right after dawn,” Remus nodded, keening as Sirius leaned on the bed, a knee pressing between his thighs. “For service.”
“Then perhaps I’ll draw this out,” Sirius shifted his knee, leaning into Remus harder. “Do you think while everyone is listening to your father preach false prophecies, I might make you cry out loud enough for them to hear you?”
He shook his head as he was pushed into the bed, bringing a leg up around Sirius’s waist. It founds its spot around his waist, and Remus couldn’t help but tilt his head back, sighing.
“Maybe by the time they take a moment to pray,” Sirius pressed his palm into the skin above Remus’s waist. “You’ll be such a mess that in the silence, they’ll hear what I’m about to do to you.”
“What are you about to do to me?” Remus whispered as Sirius dug his nails into the soft flesh of his stomach.
“What would you like me to do?” He grinned, and it was evil—wicked and vile and everything his father had ever warned him about.
Everything his father had ever taught him about resisting temptation and the act of believing in faith—all destroyed and crumbled under the gaze of Sirius Black.
“Anything you want,” Remus’s hips shifted, and he moaned as Sirius pressed him against the bed, thumb dipping below his waistline.
He ran his finger under the soft linen before slowly pushing the fabric down. Remus lifted his hips and heard the rest of his clothes hit the floor a moment later.
Glancing down, he choked on a gasp as Sirius ran his forefinger down how length. His following words were quiet, something soft and fragile—something only for Sirius. “I missed you.”
“I missed your pretty words,” Sirius grinned at him before he felt his tongue press against the side of his cock. It was hot as he licked up his length, and Remus only stared, mouth parted and eyes heavy as he pulled away, and Sirius’s lips were slick with spit. “And I missed your pretty noises—won’t you make some more for me? You know they can’t hear.”
Remus nodded frantically, heavy pants and breathy moans leaving his throat as Sirius finally took him into his mouth.
“The sun is coming up soon,” He grit out, thumb ghosting across Sirius’s bottom lip, watching as he darted his tongue out, licking Remus’s finger.
Sirius glanced up at the window as he did, seeing the sky that had turned a bit purple as the daylight broke. He took Remus in his mouth once more, grinning at him as he spoke, hovering over his cock. “You know as much as I do that I won’t burn—as much as those you keep company tell you otherwise.”
“They also say you’re—“ Remus cried out as Sirius took him all the way into his throat, feeling his forehead press against his hipbone. His next words were rushed and uneven. “They say you’re the devil.”
Sirius glanced up at him, hair falling in his face, and Remus reached out, roughly pushing it away from his face. Sirius lifted and swirled his tongue around the tip of his length before blinking and looking up at Remus with wide eyes.
“Do you think I’m the Devil?”
His eyes were innocent as he asked, and Remus rolled his eyes back as he watched Sirius spit on his cock—watched it drop from his mouth and fall over himself. Anything but innocent—the embodiment of temptation, and Remus was the definition of one unable to resist.
“No—“ Remus lifted onto his elbows, threading his hands through Sirius’s hair. He leaned down again, sucking hard, and Remus cried out. “My God—“
Sirius glanced up from below his lashes, pulling up just enough to speak. His lips ghosted over the aching tip of Remus’s cock as he spoke.
“Not God—not even close.”
The cross that hung in the church was made of the same wood as the pews, except the pews were weathered—worn down from years of service and sermons.
Remus remembers being a young boy, accompanying his father on the pulpit. Standing by with a hand on his shoulder as his father spoke to the townspeople.
Their eyes were always wide, as they were now, as his father delivered the word of God. He offered his message as if it was true—as if while he stood up there, he was not Lyall or even Father Lupin but God himself, somehow in their small chapel.
God spoke through him, he always said.
With a hand on Remus’s shoulder, keeping him there as if the lord was speaking through him to say: I am here. I can touch and bless and show you that righteousness can lead the way, as I have helped this boy's father lead his way.
A small congregation stayed back every day, coming to his father with their problems, begging for them to be fixed.
Remus thought it was sad—to watch them plead and to watch his father nod in understanding before telling them he could fix their problems.
Because sometimes they were fixed, and other times they were not.
Beth Myrian’s daughter had been sick when she was only four. Remus had only been a few years older at the time but had remembered playing with her when he was allowed. A smiling face, high laughter, and the smell of summer grass.
Beth had come, brought her daughter with her when she was sick, and despite Remus’s father lying his hands on her weak shoulders, Anna died two days later.
Remus had never understood the illness but had been there for the small gathering at her grave. When he asked his father why she had passed despite him blessing her, he only shook his head.
‘That was God's way.’
Remus had asked then why God would allow such tragedies to happen. Why would he allow death when he was capable of healing—saving—and his father had gotten angry. A slap across the face and a finger in his direction, and he had never spoken of it again.
‘Do not question God's reasoning. There is a reason for everything he does.’
Remus had gone to church the following Sunday, sitting amongst the people. He stared at the empty spot where Anna would have sat next to her mother, whose cries had filled the small building.
After, he accompanied his father, listening to him speak to the small group of farmers he often prayed with every week. It had been early springtime, and they were praying for a better harvest than the year before.
Remus had reached up and touched the wooden cross, skating his fingers over the sharp edge at the bottom.
The wood had caught, snagging under his small finger, and he had gotten a splinter. It stung and burned, and he hissed in pain before his father looked back at him, giving him a disapproving scowl.
Remus had only turned, looked up at the cross, and tore the splinter out of his skin, sticking his finger in his mouth to suck out the blood that had welled in its absence.
Today his father was speaking of temptation, the mission of Satan, and his ways.
“Let us think, for a moment, about when Satan will depart from the child of God, as he did from the great Son of God.”
His father stepped down from the pulpit, standing in front of it.
“I do not doubt that he will do so when he finds that it is necessary for him to be somewhere else. Satan is not everywhere and cannot be, for he is not divine.”
Remus sat back, glancing once more at Anna’s mother, who still came to service. She talked less, though, in the years after her daughter's death. He wonders if her faith had been challenged.
“He is not omnipresent; but, as one has said, although he is not everywhere present, it would be hard to say where he is not, for he moves so swiftly, he is such an agile spirit, that he seems to be here and there and everywhere.”
Remus wiped his palm against his pants. Despite nearing the colder months, he found it warm in church most days. Like the bodies all sat there together—worshiping and thinking—crafting their own heat.
Like as his father expelled the word of God, the temperature rose.
“Where he is not in person, he is represented by that vast host, the legions of fallen spirits, who are under his control; and even where they are not, the Devil carries out his evil devices, so that he leaves the leaven to work, the evil seeds to grow, when he himself has gone elsewhere.”
Remus hissed as the palm of his hand dug into his thigh, pushing roughly into the smattering of bruising he knew was there.
He had changed that morning after his father had left, sitting on the edge of his bed and ghosting his fingers over the imprints. It had hurt, but Remus had felt strange as he gripped his thigh as Sirius had the night before, twisting his hand to line the fingerprints up correctly.
A ragged breath left his lips before he leaned back on the bed, peering out the small window and towards the tree line, where he knew if you walked further in—past the bridge, over the small river, and past the flat rock—you would find the old Black house.
Remus’s father cleared his throat, walking back behind the pulpit and gripping the edges of it tightly. He bowed his head before delivering his final message.
“The Devil speaks in tongues in a language we cannot understand to try and deceive us. The Devil whispers words of false wisdom and promises in your ears to entice you.”
Silence amongst the congregation.
“We mustn't listen to any word besides the word coming from God and those who listen to God themselves.”
Remus dug his fingertips into the bruises harder, his arm coming to rest around his waist.
Remus’s chest pressed against the worn wood. His hips lifted, digging the hard bones of his hips into the floor. He wondered if it would make an imprint as he felt Sirius fill him again.
He cried out, but a hand came around, fingers pulling his chin down before resting on his tongue.
“You make the sweetest noises,” Sirius spoke in his ear, and Remus could feel his chest pressed against his back, slick with sweat. “All for me?”
“Yes,” Remus sobbed between Sirius’s fingers, tears flooding his eyes as he felt the stretch—the burn—as Sirius quickened his pace. He felt his cock leave and enter again, his hip bones digging into Remus’s ass as his grated against the floor.
It was the sweetest torture—to be suspended in bliss.
“You’re mine? Tell me you’re mine, sweet boy.”
“I’m yours,” Remus moaned, feeling the tightening in his lower stomach as Sirius pressed his hips into the floor harder, his palm spreading him open.”Always—“
“Always,” Sirius echoed, a gasp escaping his mouth as his lips pressed into Remus’s shoulder. “Such a sweet boy.”
Remus’s father held out his hand, gesturing to the cross behind him before scanning the rows of people in front of him.
“I lie at thy feet, my Lord; here I am, here would I be. Do with me as seemeth good in thy sight, only deal in tender mercy with thy servant, then will the Lord rebuke the enemy; the waves of the sea shall be still, and there shall be a great calm.”
He commanded them all to bow their heads to pray—to seal the sermon with devotion and a moment to channel holy thoughts—prayers.
Remus squeezes his eyes shut, scraping his nails over the bruises as his father spoke once more.
“So much for the devil leaving the tempted One. He does so, he must do so, when God commands it.”
“Does he know what he speaks,” Sirius asked, drawing up his legs onto the bed. “Is he the body of Christ? Here on earth?”
“He says he is,” Remus nodded, wading his hands through the bath water. “To question him would be to question God.”
“But you question him?” Sirius smiled softly, pulling his hair over one shoulder.
Remus chuckled, sinking further into the basin. “You know well enough what I question.”
“But the musings and skepticism sound so beautiful coming from your mouth,” Sirius stood, leaning into the words as he came to sit on the edge of the bath. “Can you blame me for the asking?”
“Not for that,” Remus shook his head, smiling softly. “No.”
Sirius dipped his hand into the water as well, swirling it around Remus's. “Then tell me—what do you blame me for?”
“Everything,” Remus sunk down further, enveloping his shoulders in the lukewarm water that was rapidly turning cold. “Some say you’re to blame for the barren land.”
“Is that so?”
“And the sickness that spread last spring.”
“What a shame.”
“Some even say when you come to town, that's when the fowls die—and the ground you walk on takes twice as long to grow come summer.” Remus met Sirius’s eye. “They say the night your mother birthed you, when they woke the next morning, a two-headed calf had been born as well.”
“Nature is cruel,” Sirius shook his head, tilting it as he pulled his hand out of the water. “Your bath has gone cold.”
Sirius stood, pulling his shirt over his head. He turned, walking to the small table in his home to drape it over the chair.
Remus watched his shoulders shift as he leaned down to remove his pants and watched the dark black lines on his back shift in the light of the fireplace. Sirius pulled his hair over one shoulder, and Remus traced the outlines of the markings.
He looked over his shoulder, catching Remus’s eye, and smiled.
Starting from the base of his neck, almost like it was an extension of his long hair, the jagged lines splintered and shattered their way across his back. All the way down to his tailbone, indiscernible scripture that Remus hardly knew if it was more than just lines and pretty swirls.
The darkest line ran down his spine, curving as he bent down to grab the rest of his clothes and throw them on the table as well.
Remus had always thought it was something breathtaking—something harsh and drastic in comparison to Sirius’s otherworldly nature. The lines contrasted against his pale skin, and the time Remus had asked about it, brushing a finger over them and being surprised to find the skin flat and not raised, Sirius had only hummed and said he had been told they were there from birth.
Remus watched him come to stand in front of the basin, arching a brow. “It’s cold. Are you going to let me in?”
“The water is cold as well,” Remus said but scooted forward nonetheless. He felt Sirius step in behind him, felt his legs spread out on either side of his own before he sat back against Sirius’s chest. “Now we’ll both freeze.”
“You have such little faith in me,” He laughed against Remus’s hair, resting his chin on his shoulder. “I haven't much else to do besides ensuring I am able to keep you around.”
Remus leaned his head back, glancing up at Sirius. “They say the nights are getting longer.”
“They are—can you not tell?” Sirius asked.
Remus hummed, grabbing Sirius’s hand and pulling it through the water, watching as it made small ripples and waves. He pressed his thumb between Sirius’s knuckles, feeling the shift. “I pay very little attention to the length of night, but I suppose I might as well since it seems to benefit me.”
“The dark only benefits those brave enough to venture out,” Sirius grinned against his neck, nipping at the skin softly. “How long have you made the walk at night to see me?”
“For far too long,” Remus sighed. “Far too long for no one to notice.”
“The church would sooner burn that there be a soul in town brave enough to notice,” Sirius trailed his hand over Remus’s arm while he sunk down past his shoulders, looking up at Sirius as he felt the water warmer than it had been a moment before.
“They would kill us both.” Remus sighed.
“No one will hurt you, sweet boy.” Sirius kissed his jaw, dragging his tongue along the wet skin. A hand came around his neck, tilting him back to meet Sirius’s eyes before his lips ghosted over the tip of Remus’s nose as he spoke again. “How many times have I told you that?”
“Far too many times,” Remus whispered.
“And when will you believe me,” Sirius asked, pressing his other hand into Remus’s lower stomach.
Remus lifted his hips, feeling the water slosh around them, and it was hot now—almost uncomfortably so. “When the time comes.”
“Turn around,” Sirius spoke softly in his ear. “I’ve missed you.”
Remus smiled to himself, lifting and shuffling around in the small bath. A bit of water fell over the side as he settled in Sirius’s lap, Remus’s thighs pressed between his and the cool metal of the basin. “You only saw me last night.”
“And the day away from you was almost more than I could bear,” Sirius held Remus's hips, and he hurried down, dipping his head under the water before coming up—hair slick and sticking to his shoulders. “Can you blame me for wanting you all to myself?”
“Yes,” Remus leaned forward. “But I hardly mind. I think of you during the day—always.”
“Tell me more,” Sirius murmured against Remus's collarbone, dragging his teeth across the skin. “You think of me?”
“I’ve told you—” He gasped as Sirius bit down on his shoulder, shifting his hips in Sirius’s lap, and he could feel him hard underneath him and the water pressed against his lower stomach. “Yes.”
Sirius ran his mouth along Remus's chest to his other shoulder, tilting his head to the side and licking the water away. “My sweet boy.”
“Father preached about the evil today—about temptation,” Remus let his head fall back as Sirius’s grip on his hips tightened, and he felt him dip down into the water further, Remus settling on his waist. “And I felt the bruises you left on my skin as he told us the devil whispers false promises.”
“Do you think my promises are as false as those who look down upon me for my misfortunate?” Sirius sighed, leaning his head back and looking between where Remus was sitting on his lap, trialing a finger along Remus’s waist, and he shivered.
The bath was scalding now, but it did not burn—only comforted—in a way Remus knew no others would ever feel this late into the year.
“No,” Remus shook his head, lifting on his knees. “But he said the devil is meant to entice us—”
“Do I wrongfully entice you?” Sirius asked, and Remus felt him bring a hand away from his waist, swiping his thumb over Remus’s lips before he opened his mouth, taking two of Sirius’s fingers between them.
Remus shook his head, hollowing his cheeks and sucking as he looked down at Sirius. He braced himself with a hand against his cheek, digging his thumb into Sirius’s cheekbone as the man below him leaned into the touch. “No.”
“Do I ever promise you lies?” He opened his eyes, removing his fingers before looking up at Remus as he sunk slowly onto the two of Sirius’s fingers, slick with his spit.
“No,” Remus gasped as he sat back down onto Sirius’s fingers, settling against his soft thighs, and he felt his other hand ghost over Remus’s cock under the water.
Sirius only hummed before rising, and Remus gasped as the fingers shifted inside of him. He swallowed thickly before grabbing the edge of the bath with both hands, lifting and feeling the drag of Sirius inside of him.
“And do I ever cause you pain? Anything other than pleasure?”
“Never,” Remus rasped as he sunk back down, feeling the water slosh over the side of the tub.
He looked into Sirius’s eyes, taking in his slight smile and fervor as Remus began to move faster, feeling himself stretch around Sirius’s fingers every time he sunk down, and the bath lost a bit more water each time. Remus’s back arched, his breaths coming faster as he grew accustomed to the stretch.
“Please,” He begged, looking down at Sirius with heavy eyes. “Please.”
“What is it, sweet boy?” Sirius asked as he twisted his fingers, and Remus squeezed his eyes shut tight, a choked gasp escaping his mouth. “What do you need?”
“I need you—” Remus nodded, looking down at Sirius’s cock, hard under the water.
“You want me to fuck you?” Sirius grinned, and it was salacious—that same vile and enticing look his father had surely been warning them about earlier. “Say it—you know I love when you speak pretty words to me.”
“I need you to fuck me,” Remus whined, leaning forward, shifting his hips, lifting himself off his fingers again, and slamming down, gasping against Sirius's chest as the water hit the wooden floors.
“Need—” Sirius grabbed Remus's hip before he could sink down again, pulling him up. Remus watched as he grasped his cock, licking his palm quickly and stroking himself twice. “Is a powerful thing.”
And Remus cried out as Sirius lined himself up, and he settled down onto him fully. Gripping the edge of the bath tighter, he panted against Sirius’s slick skin, dragging his lips against his neck—mind empty, but he was full. Remus raised a hand, pushing away some of Sirius’s hair and gripping his shoulder tightly.
“Tell me what you need,” Sirius whispered as Remus lifted again, whining at the drag of his cock. “Tell me, and you know I will give it to you.”
“You—” Remus gasped as he bottomed out and felt Sirius thrust up into him. “You—always.”
Sirius gripped Remus’s waist, digging his nails into the hot skin. He bucked his hips again, and Remus felt his hipbones digging into the soft flesh of his thighs under the water.
He squeezed his legs tighter around Sirius’s, leaning his forehead against his, and Remus spoke against his lips. “Harder, please.”
“My sweet boy needs it harder?” Sirius whispered, holding Remus up before forcing him down onto his cock. “Needs what only I can give him? How sweet.”
Remus nodded limply, gripping the edge behind Sirius’s shoulders as he set a harsh pace. The water was loud—falling over the side of the bath as Sirius brought Remus down onto his cock, gripping his waist painfully.
He watched in awe as Sirius’s mouth parted, eyes rolled back as he snapped his hips to meet his movements. Remus only sat there adrift, too enthralled in the feelings of Sirius inside of him to do much more than clench around him and tremble beneath his touch. Remus gasped as Sirius shifted his hips, sliding into the bath further and hitting the perfect spot.
“My sweet boy,” Sirius choked out, adjusting his grip on Remus’s waist before removing his hands and wrapping them around Remus’s throat. “You’re so good for me—so sweet and tight.”
Remus shakily let go of the bath, threading his fingers through Sirius’s hair and holding him close, his thighs burning from holding himself up enough to let Sirius bury himself inside him.
He choked on a gasp, looking between them, and watched as Sirius’s stomach muscles clenched each time he lifted his hips, and Remus gripped tighter, trying to keep himself in place despite Sirius’s harsh thrusts.
“Sirius—” Remus cried as he felt Sirius’s fingers tighten around his throat. “I’m—”
“Shh,” Sirius nodded, furrowing his brows as he looked at Remus wide-eyed. “Tell me pretty words—let me hear them.”
“Please,” Remus threw his head back, falling to meet Sirius’s thrusts. “Fuck—”
“That's it, sweet boy,” Sirius leaned forward, lips finding his neck as he pushed down on Remus’s shoulders, hands still wrapped around his neck, and Remus heard Sirius’s breath stutter. “Fuck, what?”
“Harder—fuck me,” Remus was incoherent, and he opened his eyes, letting his head fall forward, and watched as the bath began to boil—warmth spreading through him at the temperature and the heat coming to a climax in his lower stomach.
“Harder,” He grit out between barred teeth, pulling his hair back and meeting Sirius’s eyes.
Sirius’s hips stuttered before Remus felt his knees bend behind them, keeping Remus in place as he slammed up into him, the water rushing over the edge of the basin in waves, and Remus could hear it sizzle as it hit the floor.
He cried out as Sirius hit that same spot he always did, a look of utter concentration on his face as he drug out Remus's pleasure. He shoved his hand between the both of them, taking Remus’s cock in his hot palm, tugging once, and Remus came undone over him.
“So pretty for me—”
“Just like that, fucking yourself on me.”
“Mine—always mine,”
Head falling forward against Sirius's chest, Remus’s hips shifted back to press into Sirius’s cock as hard as he could, reveling in the stretch and the strangled noise he heard coming from Sirius a moment before he buried himself inside Remus fully, gasping.
“Da mihi quod volo,” Sirius hissed, and Remus bit back a groan as the words left his lips, lilting in time with the wavering grind of his hips. His fingers were delicate around his neck as he came, skating over the wet skin.
His hands left Remus’s throat as Sirius soothed over the bruised skin before letting his hips fall, a hand coming to the back of Remus’s head. He felt Sirius thread his fingers through his hair, felt his chest rise and fall—taking Remus with it—before placing a chaste kiss on the top of his head.
Remus shut the door behind him, letting it close softly before breathing in the morning air.
The sun had not begun to rise, but he knew it would somewhere between where he was and the edge of the village. He turned, looking up at the rough exterior of the Black house.
The thatched roof had seen better days, and had the home been in town; it would have long been repaired. But it was not—the house settled in the woods—and the roof only leaked sometimes during the wetter months.
The worn wood the house was crafted of was as unpolished and rough as the cross that sat above his father's head as he preached, and Remus knew if he ran a finger over it, it would draw blood all the same. Stained dark from the years, it was a small house—far too small for the small family it had once held.
Remus looked at it fondly, though, knowing those he saw during the day hadn't made their way out here in years, and it felt like it was only Remus’s now—his secret to bear.
He stepped off the front step, leaning over to peek through the window, and saw Sirius asleep, huddled under the white linen cover he slept with.
Remus closed his eyes and started the walk back home.
There was a chill to the air, something biting and harsh like a reminder to those awake that it would warm with the sunrise, but just barely. His father would be making rounds today, speaking to those about helping prepare for the winter.
Things were to be done, and Remus always offered to help but found people tended to shy away from his outstretched hand for fear of seeking too much from the pastor’s son.
Remus crossed the flat rock, thinking of years when he was much younger. Before he knew much of anything or what the world brought and offered. He walked over the bridge next, looking back and watching as the house disappeared behind him as he walked into the treeline.
He walked past the empty homes, half worn down from the weather and the lack of those that once accompanied them, past the pastures and the sparse fields through the small center of his village.
He ran his fingers over the well that sat there, over the stained rock and sun-bleached wood. He paused, though, as his home came into view, the sun finally rising enough to light the world in that soft blue hue he had come accustomed to.
Remus watched as a buzzard circled overtop of his house twice, swooping high in the air and then low before landing on the small perch over the front door. It paused, tilting its head at Remus as he took a few steps forward.
He came to a stop in front of the door, looking at the animal. It only stared back, unwavering.
They stood there in silence as the sun began to rise further, cresting over the top of the roof. Remus heard the sound of John Heather waking, the gate of the pins swinging shut, and the world turned from a blue hue to a soft, pale yellow.
The buzzard let out a cry before flying away toward the direction Remus had come from.