Lugh glanced back at his brother before frowning and shaking his head. I don't even know what we're lookin' for, Shiloh... you're bein' weird. He muttered. Rocks... weird rocks. There weren't any weird rocks, everything was normal—besides that feeling, that fire that was ignited by that voice.

Rain began to cascade from the skies—only, it hurt. Lugh shuffled closer to his brother with a frown. I'm not likin' this... he mumbled. It hurts... Any other occasion, Lugh would've begged to go home, or to seek shelter; the water droplets sliced along his back, drawing out a small whine. Wha's happenin'?

The voice spoke again—soft murmurings of gibberish. Lugh grunted in frustration, frowning at the sky—until finally, the words were morphed into a shape he could comprehend—'I told you that you were close!' ...had it? Lugh didn't even know. His glare lifted into curiosity.

He walked in tandem with the boisterous winds, eyes squinting against the rain. Why was he doing this? Why didn't he just go home? Her certainly wanted to. Yet... the desire to leave was overpowered by the need to understand what lay beyond the horizon, what the voice so desperately wanted him to find.

There was something supernatural lacing the air like fog. Intertwining with his fur, sending it bristling along his spine. Down the hill, there was a small glow. Not the luster of fireflies—a beacon. A signal. 'Yes. You know what you must do. Do not give up now! You are here.' Lugh nodded to whatever spirit was with them.

Shiloh—over here! He called out. The boy did not wait for the elder brother before he began to race down the hill, still wincing against the rain whipping his skin raw.

But that glow... he had to see it.