sigil

Out making the rounds under that gleaming schooner of a moon they went from old place to old place, sipping wine and coffee and memory. Once, they were confounded: the bar closed, the door locked, the handle bound with wire, and the wire fixed with a seal. This too was, in its way, appropiate. There was nothing to do but stroll to the stone-paved brink of the pond and gaze up at that other silver seal, stamped with the crest of night. Nor did they howl up at it or whine, only yipped softly a little bit.