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The perimeter was ringed with lanterns, all giving their soft orange glows - like stars in the ink black night, he thought. While not much for creativity or imagination usually, when he was alone at his watchpost in the still, dark world of these pre-morning hours, sometimes he just couldn't help letting his thoughts drift towards the fanciful.
He continued looking out at the luminaries, dotting the edge of the property. Well, they weren't really like stars, were they? The lanterns were too uniform and too even, too perfectly spaced to be anything like that scattershot display up in the heavens. And what a dismal, uninspired constellation they would make! What picture could he possibly paint with them, in his sky of torchlight stars? A serpent, an earthworm - a discarded length of thread? He chuckled to himself at that last one - that was almost dumb enough to be a little quaint.
He was so caught up in this folly that he very nearly almost didn't see the flickering of one distant light. It wasn't anything more than a brief change, and by the time he fully set his eyes upon it, the lantern was once again glowing uninterrupted, as if nothing had happened. In fact, he thought maybe he had imagined it - he had only seen it from the corner of one eye, after all, so perhaps his perception was off, or he'd been confused by his own blinking.
Until a second light dimmed, and he realized this was not the case. He drew in a steady breath at this; what he had seen was not the mere fading of a lamp, but rather something blocking the light. A movement, the motion of a shadow that obscured the lantern from one side then continued onward in passing, so that the light smoothly became visible again as it slipped by.
His heart beat a little quicker when a third light was covered and then revealed in this same manner: this was the next lantern closer to his own vantage point, and for a fleeting moment, he couldn't help but think that these shadows were purposefully creeping closer to him. But this was foolish, wasn't it? Surely it was just a raccoon or a stray cat - there were plenty of critters like that in the areas around the grounds, so it wouldn't be surprising if one of them had somehow found its way into the yard, right?
He waited for another light to waver, but after some time in which no more lanterns were obscured, he could not decide whether to feel anxiety or relief. He forced his breathing to stay low and steady and as quiet as he could manage, keeping his eyes open and his ears keened. The weather of late had been chilly, and the grass lawn of the property should have been frosted enough that any touch, whether footstep or pawprint, would cause it to crunch gently underfoot. So if there were an animal out there, he could certainly track its path.
However, when he heard nothing louder than the soft breeze gently shifting the few remaining unfallen leaves in the trees beyond the courtyard, he found himself both confused and concerned. Perhaps it had only been a small animal, like a squirrel that had not yet bedded down for winter, and that somehow it was not weighty enough to noticeably crush the grass beneath its feet. Or perhaps it had seen him shift his position and, like a cat or cat burglar, it had been frightened off by this.
Whatever the case, he didn't yet allow himself to relax; it was, after all, his job to remain vigilant, and he'd already almost let his attention falter once this night. Even when a true stillness set in, a stillness and silence that almost mirrored the night sky above, he remained alert.
-- at once, a shadow of a form of a figure loomed in front of him, a blur of motion that gave him such a violent start and sent his heart racing like a wild horse. It had apparently come over top of the guard rail that ran along the outer edge of his watchpost, and when it finally settled, it seemed half-perched upon the barrier and half-spilled onto the balcony platform.
It was no small animal, nor was it a sneakthief - what looked at him now was a spectre. The dim lights of the watchpost lanterns could only give the beast before him the faintest of outlines before they were swallowed up in the deep black of its body. From what he could see, it was of some size, with the face of a lurking crocodile and the posture of a stalking tiger, but the remainder of it was lost in the shadows of the midnight sky, as if the creature were itself made of space.
And when it moved near him, stepping down from the balustrade with a surprising lightness for its bulk, it flowed like oil pouring itself onto the marbled stone floor. These motions were delicate, but it moved in a ponderous manner, at once as lithe and serpentine as it was heavy and imposing. Its flesh was like leather, its muscles rippling with each steady step; he remained still, for fear that any sudden motion on his part would seem like a threat and inspire in this creature the need to fight for self-preservation.
His breath caught and his throat tightened as the beast's face came so near to his own. Hot, damp exhalations gusted over his skin as they puffed out past flared nostrils at the end of a crinkled snout. The creature's hollowed eyes glowed like there was an azure fire deep inside of its body - how hadn't he seen these in the dark? - and it growled, low and guttural and dangerous.
It opened its mouth, and a mist of blue flame smoke rolled out of its jaws like a fog rolling over the earth. Trails of it snaked and ribboned upwards, becoming a beautiful, terrifying aurora shimmering in his sky full of ink black night.
And in this fog, he could see bone white, curved and wicked.
Bone white teeth lined up like fenceposts.