Yamm paced the floor of his illusion prison, wishing his recalcitrant offspring would hurry up already. There was no way his son wouldn't pay a visit after their reunion in the woods, and the god was more than a little annoyed it was taking this long.
For now, he'd chosen a form that fell somewhere between hart and human. It was his favorite because he thought the combination of muscular, fur-covered thighs and broad, skin-covered chest made him look quite formidable. Normally he'd keep the antlers in addition to the two deer legs, but there was no room for them in this hovel.
Who locks their father, a god no less, in an illusion of his own neglected shrine, complete with a leaky roof, eternal drizzle, and spiders? When he wasn't being forced to sleep, he had nothing to do but stare out of the damned hole in the ceiling.
Yamm's hooves clacked on the damp stone as he turned to pace in the other direction.
