Lezeen
held still, focusing his attention on the smallest point he could imagine.
He couldn't move even a frozen muscle as his limbs were bound together
by the pressure of the surrounding ice, not far from the bottom of the
glacier where he stood. The courageous band of hunters who had lured
him into the deep crevasse had hoped that he would at least be slowed,
had never even hoped for the avalanche that
buried him and begun his ages of entrapment in the icy cell. He had
spent many decades contemplating, thinking, planning, remembering the
taste of flesh. Now he could begin to feel again, just a crack, a crack
in reality, very far away, waiting...Lezeen had tried meditating many
times, quieting his mind to try to escape the mental knots he ended
up tying himself into, then he found the longer he maintained this simple
state the more he could feel, then the further he could reach. After
holding his mind quite for nearly two years, he could now feel it, a
thinning of space, no thicker than an egg shell. After not moving for
over 300 years his legs had almost forgotten how to move, but the hunger
drove him, it always did. He stepped, twisting without moving, stepping
first with his mind and then followed by his body, from the base of
a glacier...out into warm air and the noise of milling prey.
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