The warmth arrived first.
That glorious warmth of Infinity in its most concentrated state, pressing against every surface of his dissolving weavings with the patient embrace of a medium receiving something back into itself. Noah was smiling inside it!
A genuine smile, the specific expression of a being who had just had an extraordinarily good time doing something that had ended badly and was already mentally replanning the next attempt.
He replayed the battle.
The moment Ragnar's fist had landed before his perception had finished calculating where Ragnar's fist was going. The moment his tail had driven into Ragnar's midsection and found nothing to devour because the man drew on Prime Causes rather than Infinity. The specific quality of being held and swung and driven face-first into the Wandering Territories.
He replayed it again.
And again.
