Utmir was not an unfeeling god, despite the words of those who scorned him. He alone saw all that moved in the dark: from the smallest insects that moved at night to the greatest monsters that hunted in the shadows, terrifying creatures that made mortals quake in fear.

Utmir cared for them. He alone watched over poisonous spiders, twisted monsters. He took note of their passing. He protected them, he spoke for them before the faces of his fellow gods.

They were not all he cared for: Utmir saw those who fled under the cover of night, fleeing into dark depths. He saw those who escaped only with the aid of darkness. He might not have cared for them half as much as he did his monsters, but still, Utmir saw them, and Utmir answered their prayers when he found himself moved by their pleas.

He felt sympathy for all things that moved in the dark, after all.

Tonight, he watched one such individual: moving quickly, alone in the dark, fleeing a dangerous fate. They ran, deep within a twisted and hidden wood, seeking shelter.

Utmir felt pity for them. He—unseen, hidden in shadows—parted the way through the trees to a crack in the rock—a shallow cave that would provide shelter, that would hide them from the enemies that pursued them.

Perhaps he would face them, there. He had a duty to his petitioners, after all.