PM to join Unbroken by Oars

[Dravite]

65 Spring, 515 AV
Morning

Dravite had been deep within the web when he felt the ripples of another's footfalls nearing him. He followed the blue maze of webbing back to where he had come from but was momentarily stopped by a voice that called, "Help, is anyone listening?"
"Hello," Dravite called across the web with his mind in response, "I'm a junior recruit of The Drykas Watch, can I help you?"
"Hello!" The voice retorted quickly, desperation interfering with the clarity of the message spun across the webbing."
"Calm down," Dravite tried to assure the stranger that help was close by if needed, "I can help you but you need to speak slowly, my webbing ability is not as competent as I would like."
"The Watch? Good! We need some help down here; the Bluevein River has burst its banks in the night and drowned three of my cattle including my prize..."

Dravite listened intently but the message kept coming to him in distorted waves and pieces he had to try and make sense of. The footfalls he had felt near him were distracting and now it seemed as if that same presence loomed over him, waiting. "We will send someone to investigate shortly," Dravite assured the voice.
"Thank you," came the faraway reply.

When Dravite came out of his trance his fingers tingled, the hairs on the back of his neck pricked, and his body felt weightless for a few long seconds. The man looked ahead of him and noticed the shadow of a man stretched out beyond his own under Syna's light. He gripped his spear which was close at hand when suddenly his fingers were pinned to the earth under the weight of the man's tread as the strangers boot made sure Dravite's spear was not raised. "Get up," the voice belonging to the shadow said, "We have a new assignment."

Dravite turned to find the voice belonged to one of the recruits from The Watch and he smiled, "you spooked me, apologies I was listening to the web."

The Drykas Man offered a hand and helped Dravite to his feet before the two of them hurried back to catch up with the others who were already being briefed on the situation. "A new lake seems to have formed somewhere along the Bluevein River overnight so we are sending two groups to take a look and report back on their findings. If you aren't prepared to spend a day in the sun on horseback, speak up and we will send you to one of the nearby farmers who needs help rounding up hens."

Few laughed and none raised their hand to opt in for chicken chasing, though one tried, the usual suspect, quickly slapped down by Dravite. "Good, now go get your strides and head out with your normal groups."

Dravite didn't mention that he had already been informed about the overflow via the webbing and went to find his strider Cree along with the usual suspects. The strider was busy grazing on the new spring grass, oblivious to the commotion and chatter going on around him. Dravite did his final checks on the yvas and his tools before throwing a leg over the animal. He had his hatchet, dagger, and hunting knife secured to his belt while he held his father's bone spear in his right hand. "Let's ride!"

[Dravite]

The Bluevein River stretches from Riverfall to just over half way across the Sea of Grass. It is the biggest river in Cyphrus feed by a multitude of smaller rivers and lakes including the Itrod, Ki, and Arale River so when reports of a new lake had flooded the conversation across the Drykas web this morning, crews from The Watch were sent to investigate.

Dravite felt there was nothing more freeing than racing across country on the back of a Windborne Strider. He relished the feeling of the breeze whipping through his wheat coloured hair and causing his mounts long mane to toss and stream skyward as they galloped across the plain. Every now and then he would take hold of the animal’s mane to keep him secured on the horse, confident of his riding ability but still prone to mistakes as any young rider was.

The Drykas man wore no armour and seldom donned a pair of shoes, much preferring the feel of earth beneath his toes and the wind against his back, proud of the Windmarks that scarred his upper-body. Dravite had always liked to believe that he lived his life in the hands of the Gods and that when his time came it was better to go swiftly than hide behind a plate of armour that would do little to protect him from the real threats of the grasslands.

"Don't ride too close to the riverbanks," he called ahead to two of the members in front, "we should follow the river from a distance where the ground isn't as soft and stick together like we’ve been taught!"

He didn't voice his real concern, that he knew all too well what kinds of creatures water was bound to attract, especially on such a fine spring day; something that would only become more dangerous as they go closer and closer to summer. Dravite didn't fancy himself a leader, but he had made enough mistakes in his short twenty-two years to know a thing or two.

The riders’ paid little mind to him, not bothered to take advice from the new guy and as Dravite steered Cree away from the river’s edge they made up ground, finding the land smoother to ride underfoot where it was dry. Soon enough the pair fell in line behind and fought to catch up with the rest of the crew. No promise had been made to them that they would be the group to stumble upon the new lake first, but as luck would have it, not half hour into the ride did they find exactly that.

Dravite's was thankful that the new lake had formed not too far from the Endrykas encampment for he had envisioned them riding all day and his legs were already sore from the good twenty minute gallop. Cree too seemed relieved that the ride was done, still fat on spring grass and thirsty now having come so far without a drink.

The riders slowed to a stop and Dravite led Cree to the edge of the new lake which felt more like an aged swamp. Suddenly he feared for his strider welfare and tried to make the animal back up away from the water’s edge. Cree, every bit as stubborn and determined as his rider, stood his ground; swallowing great gulps of water from the lake only to raise his head and shake the excess liquid from his muzzle, all over Dravite. "I love you too," the man laughed and splashed the animal in return.

Cree jumped back and away from the splashing, the saturated earth popping as air raced into the void his hooves had left in the soil. Dravite examined the wet ground before turning his eye on Cree's legs which would need a wash later to prevent mud fever which Cree had once suffered from as a foal.

The rest of the crew had started looking around the area when Dravite heard a strange sound up ahead. He looked across the marshy lake thick with reeds and stalks and saw nothing out of the ordinary. When the noise sounded again he raced around and up to the broken river bank to take the high ground before calling out in the common tongue, "Hello, are you okay?"

When no reply came but another worried groan cast from some poor animal sounded, Dravite waved using grassland sign to the rest of the members in an attempt to summon them to the river’s edge, "Do you hear that?" He asked in Pavi.

[Mahaleth]

Mareeya was thirty-five when Belhatir, only twenty, married her. There had been something about her that had made Belhatir's mouth dry that evening in Endrykas. Her black hair, a muscle going down her back. Her arms. The crows' feet in the corners of her eyes. The sardonic twist to her red mouth. She made him nervous, as if she could guess all of his secrets just by looking at him. A thrill, not unlike arousal, went down his spine and the inside of his leg when she said his name: "Belhatir?" That sardonic little smile. "What kind of name is that?"
"What kind of name is Mareeya?" he had asked.
She laughed dryly. "A better name than Belhatir."
Belhatir imagined that he would be able to touch her. That she would give him sons. Two weeks later she became Windborne, his wife.

A year later, there were still no sons.

He watched Mareeya's arms and her breasts as they swayed under the thin fabric of her shirt. She was a handsome woman, most of the men of the Windborne clan agreed, if a little grey around the temples. She was not young. She was not supple or slender. She was like a stubborn tree in the wind, seductive because of her strength, beautiful because of her stubbornness. And for all of that she was wasted on Belhatir who, in a year of marriage, had only touched her three times. Since she was older, no one ever suspected Belhatir.

"You should get a younger wife," Ortias told Belhatir while they sat out in the grass by the Zibri. "One that will give you lots of sons. As the next Ankal you'll need a lot of sons."
Belhatir held his hand out to a Zibri calf who was sniffing at Belhatir's hair, and looking down at Belhatir with big, rolling eyes. "You're probably right, cousin," Belhatir said. "You're probably right."
"But?" Ortias chewed the end of a blade of grass.
"But who wants another wife when the one I have now makes me miserable enough?"
Ortias laughed and was about to say something else when the sound of two Striders thundered behind their heads. A shadow passed over them, and then circled back around. Belhatir looked up and saw the face of one of the men in The Watch. The calf scurried away from the shadow of the Strider and the Watch, back to the teat of his mother a few yards away. The watchman looked down at Belhatir as if to accuse him of lazing the day away. Again.

"Good morning." Belhatir smiled as Ortias made the proper obeisances and left. "Nice sun today."

* * *

"Where have you been?"
"Out."
"Where are you going?"
"Out."
"What are you going to do while you're out?"
Belhatir laughed and kissed the corner of his wife's mouth. This exchange had been so often repeated between the two of them that it almost seemed like a love song they sang to each other. He gripped her waist. Her expression, sharp and suspicious, didn't change. "What does it matter what I'm doing while I'm out?" he asked her.
"That's right. You hardly ever do anything."
"You're right. And I'm going to go back out there and continue to do hardly anything for the rest of the day." He winked, pinched her cheek, and was almost out the door when she said his name.
"Belhatir."
He paused at the tent's opening, crouched on one knee. The hairs on his nape stood up. He thought she would go towards him.
All she said was, "Hurry back."

* * *

Belhatir was almost late getting to the gathering of The Watch. His heart was pounding in his chest and his tongue was dry, thirsty for adventure.

"A new lake seems to have formed somewhere along the Bluevein River overnight so we are sending two groups to take a look and report back on their findings," the leader said. Inwardly, Belhatir groaned. It sounded boring. He had hoped that there would be foreigners to shepherd across the Kabrin Road, or a herd of glassbeaks that needed to be taken down before they got too close to The Run. "If you aren't prepared to spend a day in the sun on horseback, speak up and we will send you to one of the nearby farmers who needs help rounding up hens." Belhatir started to raise his hand as a joke. Dravite smacked Belhatir's hand back down, sharply, earning a hiss from Belhatir.
"Good, now go get your strides and head out with your normal groups."

Dreamer wasted no time. The minute she saw Belhatir coming, she whinnied and jumped and pranced around, as if to ask him where they were going today. Where was the adventure? Where was all the fun? Belhatir understood her all too well. He clucked his tongue, spoke to her in that lover's murmur, and with a whoop they were gone, off to join the rest of The Watch as they raced across the untamed back of Mizahar.

The wind whistled in Belhatir's ears. His hair with its small braids and its leather straps flew in the wind, dark like a raven's wing. Dreamer felt good. Young, powerful, her muscles taut as she ran over the grass and towards the river. They almost began to veer away when they heard Dravite say, "Stick together!" and the rest of the group ignored him. They were after all, Dravite and Belhatir, new. Young. But Belhatir listened to Dravite and reigned Dreamer in to gallop near Cree.

It wasn't long before they found the lake. Belhatir got off of his strider to stretch, and Dreamer wandered away. She was less interested in the water and more interested in the tall grass around it. She sniffed at the other horses, clacked her teeth at their swishing tails. Dreamer soon lost interest in them, too, and went further up. Belhatir clicked his tongue and in Pavi reminded the horse to not stray too far away. Dreamer nickered in response.

"Hello!" They heard Dravite say in the common tongue. "Are you okay?"

"What?" Belhatir asked, whipping around to look at his brother.

"Did you hear that?" Dravite asked in their tongue.

"No! You were making too much noise. What am I supposed to be hearing?"

"SHH!" one of the riders hissed. "I heard it, too."

The muscles in Belhatir's stomach tensed. He put his hands on the handles of his throwing axes. The strange sound came to them again.

[Khida]

Some days, Aris Riverwatcher took pride in the trainees; he took satisfaction in seeing them absorb lessons and skills, in witnessing the performance of a soon-to-be competent team.

Today was not -- yet -- one of those days.

Ahead of him, the younger riders clustered near the edge of the new-formed lake, or what might have been its edge; hard to say where the water ended and mud began. Aris might have reminded them to be careful of that very thing, but they were adults, they were Watch, and at least one had already demonstrated he knew better. Aris said nothing.

One of them heard a sound, called out into the grasses, beckoned the rest of the Watch team forward. Aris hung back, letting them take point; what good was training for, if the trainees weren't allowed to do? But he too listened, catching the edges of the foreign noise around their terse remarks. Truth be told, as he considered the vestiges of sound, it seemed not all that foreign, but rather affected by distance -- its tones stretched by passage through wind and over water until they became altogether unrecognizable. He could not place what manner of creature made it, not from here; only the sense of distance, and a general direction: east, farther still along the lakeshore.

The younger riders hung there on the riverbank, frozen on the edge of motion, tensely anticipating... well, anything to come charging up out of the grass. That much, Aris approved of. But they were still caught there three ticks later, and five, and ten; and as the ticks counted on, the older Watchman shook his head. As they were silent, so too was the landscape -- or not silent, as the grasses rustled, the water lapped, and birds chirped to one another through the stalks. The sound towards which they had all oriented did not immediately follow again.

A touch on his Strider's neck bid the horse hold steady, Aris casting his awareness into the Web. Freshly repaired, the eldritch strands spilled forth a veritable torrent of information under his touch -- the wagons of a wandering Pavilion gone by days before, the count of wild striders passing through, the signature of a night lion pride come and gone, a handful of cattle straying well away from their herd, the solitary motion of Drykas hunters essaying out and back... or perhaps not yet returned, in one case he only glimpsed near the end.

Connected to all the rest of Cyphrus as it was, the Web promised knowledge from farther still, the allure of seeing and knowing all... or near enough as made little difference, when it came to temptations. It was only with reluctance that Aris withdrew, maintaining his concentration on the here and now. On the group of riders who hovered still, waiting with bated breath. He saw no sign that any of them had even queried the Web... and was not, really, surprised that it be so. They were still new.

"What does the Web tell you?" Aris prompted at last.

coordinationI figure this corresponds to posts 1-2 in Kindred Spirits. There's probably 30ish chimes' worth of events yet to go before you guys and Khida will converge. So feel free to take your time investigating, embellish, divert, etc.

Khida space Common | Pavi
other space Common | Pavi

[Dravite]

Aris looked to be in his late thirties to early forties. He was well known throughout The Watch for his skilled riding and speed with a short bow. Dravite had already witnessed his work with a saber during a training session and admired Aris’ philosophical mind. For all his fortune, Dravite thought Aris lacked something some of the younger members, including himself, was teeming with; hunger.

Dravite had always been a very self-driven individual with big ideas and goals. He strived to better himself daily having always liked the idea of being a lifelong learner and believing that learning never stopped, that the old learned from the young sometimes, just as the young took wisdom from the old. The world had something to teach him and he was more than willing to listen. Aris was a fine Tavekh of The Watch and seemed content with his position in life which made Dravite wonder if he would ever sate the fire in his own belly.

Cold and wet, the swamp like earth pulled their feet in as if it meant to swallow the men whole. “We should move back,” Dravite insisted quietly but was quickly hushed by one of the other recruits who thought he had seen something up ahead in the grass, “If anything jumps out at you here you’ll be useless if you’re stuck in the mud.”

Dravite tagged Belhatir on the arm with an open fist and pointed to dry land with his eyes, only five or six metres away, before making a move. The dust stuck to his bare, muddy feet and the ends of his pants were wet with muck. He folded up the weightless, black material to just below the knee and made his way leisurely about the edge of the boggy ground, trying to distinguish animal prints from one another that had been left in the soft earth. Dravite noticed a lot of track marks that looked as if they belonged to some kind of canine, thought he couldn’t be sure which; dogs, coyotes, jackals?

“What do you think of these?” Dravite turned to his Windborne brother and pointed; reading animal tracks was not Dravite’s field of expertise and of the two, Belhatir was the more experience hunter.

“What does the web tell you?” Aris called from on top of his horse, somewhere behind them.

Dravite looked over his shoulder at the man and nodded as if to silently state his thanks, for with all the excitement and the novelty of being a part of something like this, he hadn’t thought to check the Drykas web for more readily available information.

Webbing was something Dravite had lots of interest in. He had studied it most of his young life having spent hours hounding his grandfather about all the ins and outs of its magic. Most of the new recruits looked to each other a little perplexed at the mention of webbing and though it was a massive part of Drykas culture, it always surprised Dravite to learn how much knowledge some of the younger generation lacked in regards to its practicality. Perhaps, he thought to himself, honing his craft in the hopes of becoming a master webber some day for The Watch might be his calling.

Skill had always restricted him in regards to what he could see when using the web. He had learned to venture further and further, as was the web’s allure to minds both young and old. He could communicate via its channels, but never had he seen what he saw now. A ghostly replay of the last few hours drifted by highlighted with faint tints of blue; a small pack of coyotes passing through, a herd of horses stopping to drink before moving on, stray Zibri that had wandered away from their group. Then suddenly, as if it had walked right by under their noses, the dog-like tracks we filled by the animal that had made them only minutes before The Watch had arrived. It had been stalking towards the desperate cries of a trapped horse, but now turned off course to confront the young men of The Watch. “Wolf!”

[Mahaleth]

A flash of grey leapt up from the tall grass and into the group of young recruits in the mud, scattering them, squawking like surprised chickens. Two of them jumped out of the way and the third, the bottom of his shoes stuck to the mud, fell on his behind and tried to run backwards on his hands. Belhatir, crouched on firmer ground by Dravite, registered thinking that it could have been funny if it weren’t so dangerous. The wolf snapping at the third recruit’s ankles as the recruit tried to scamper away, each time getting closer and closer to getting bitten.

Kapok, the recruit on his hands, finally managed to pull his blade from its sheath and slash at the air in front of him. The wolf rocked back on its heels, snarling and beginning to drool.

It was famished. The poor beast was skin and bone; Belhatir could count the ribs on the animal from even a few yards away. It must have been frightened, too, or trying to protect something; Belhatir didn’t know wolves, especially lone wolves, to be very aggressive. This one, a pathetic grey thing with a black stripe down its back, was trying its best to look bigger than it was, its hackles raised and its teeth bared to the vivid pink gums.

Belhatir pulled one of his throwing axes out of its halter and started whooping and hollering at the wolf. It flinched then backed away, but just as Belhatir thought that it was going to run off, it ran out into a circle towards the striders -- towards Dreamer.

Belhatir’s axe sailed towards the wolf. It missed. The handle of the second throwing axe only caught the wolf on the end of its muddy paw. The axe knocked the wolf off of its course for a split second. The wolf stumbled, but then was on its feet again. Belhatir panicked and, unarmed, dove into the wolf’s way to protect his horse.

Their gazes met. The wolf’s grey eyes were sharp. They seemed almost mad with hunger and whatever primordial instinct drove it to do the things it did. Belhatir tried not to show fear, but there it was in his deep green eyes, in the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed down his spit.

Belhatir thought he saw the wolf smile.

And then it jumped.

[Dravite]

Formless, it makes its home in the hearts of men, hungry, paralyzing and often deadly; fear gripped the man, causing him to… well, nothing. As Dravite came out of his trance he found he couldn’t do anything as the actions of wolf and man quickly played out around him, while the sudden rush of adrenaline seemed to slow time itself. Men ran from the mud for their lives, blades cut through the air, stabbing, slashing, and turning in the wind. Dravite stood deaf and dumb while his Windborne brother charged from his side to protect the striders who presently noticed the commotion and bolted.

“Life is painful, death is the easy part,” Dravite’s grandfather had once told him and as he stood with his heart threatening to beat right out of his chest, for a moment, he was torn.

Indecision was quickly muted when he noticed Belhatir staring down the wolf, defenceless. Reality slapped him on the back and without knowing it himself Dravite was running towards the threat rather than away from it like the others had. He held his spear in his hand, lined up his target, raised the weapon and stabbed it forward at the leaping wolf, catching the soft flesh in front of the femur; not a deadly shot, but left to fester it might kill.

Dravite drove the head on his spear into the earth, pinning the wolf that let out a piercing cry which left the man’s ears ringing. The animal first turned on itself to snap at what had caught its leg before going for the being that held fast to the weapon. The starved canine snapped at Dravite’s right forearm, powerful incisors piercing the flesh in a quick, sharp bite. Dravite roared, releasing the spear to crawl backwards, kicking at dust and the wolf who again tried to attack the weapon lodged in its leg.

The Drykas man closed his left hand over the bite on his right arm and hissed, too frightened to feel the pain; too scared to weigh the damage. The wolf screamed like a panicked hunting dog savaged by the tusks of a wild boar. Dravite had no romantic thought of life, or childhood, or of his family; his son and his wife. Nothing flashed before his eyes while pit against death, there was only fear, that creeping, formless entity that made itself at home in his heart and cackled, “Who’s next?”

[Mahaleth]

The next few minutes were confused flashes of sound and images for Belhatir. He heard Dravite's spear dig into the earth, heard Dravite roar like a wounded animal and a wounded animal shriek in a voice that sounded almost human to Belhatir. Blood spilled into the earth to feed it, make it fat, wolf blood and Drykas blood together. The new recruits were all in a panic.

Where was Aris?

A few yards away, Aris watched the fight from atop his Strider with a grim, focused detachment. The recruits were young men from small pavilions, some of them still only learning to properly handle their weapons or ride their Striders without falling off. Aris knew some men from The Watch who might have laughed at the tremendous fuss over a starving wolf, and Aris wouldn't have blamed them: the wolf was woefully undernourished and confused about the state of its territory. The thing wasn't even fit to make pelts out of, or even eat. It was good for nothing except for training a few hopelessly young recruits.

Aris watched as Dravite scrambled away from the wolf and the rest of the shellshocked recruits stood staring. The Tavekh lost his patience and hollered, "What are you waiting for?"

For a split second, Belhatir thought he heard Belhaur shout "What are you waiting for?" across the Sea of Grass. Belhatir flinched, found his feet, and dove for one of his axes. The wolf was making a horrendous noise; Belhatir wished he could stop up his ears as, axe raised, he rounded on the wild animal. It cowered and tried in vain to chew through the spear's shaft. It howled piteously, calling for a pack that would never come. Then, just as Belhatir raised his axe over his head, one hand extended to balance himself, the wolf looked at him. It growled and snapped its teeth, as if deciding not to die without a fight.

Belhatir's axe came down on its skull, then its snout as it struggled and bit at the air, Belhatir jumping out of the way of its snapping and snarling. Swift, untutored chops made hideous gaps in the wolf's head and splattered Blehatir with blood. The blood made the grass a lurid shade of red. All the while, the wolf struggled and clawed and cried out, before it finally crumpled whining and breathless to the earth.

Belhatir, exhausted, nearly dropped his axe. The wolf was still breathing, ribs straining against its skin. One eye was gone, and its lower jaw had come unhinged. It would die soon, Belhatir knew. But he didn't want the wolf to die slowly. Belhatir raised his axe one more time and delivered the final blow, right across the wolf's throat.

[Khida]

It was a gruesome kill, inelegant; but it was done, and the wounded beast not left to suffer. Aris held still for a moment in the wake of the battle, listening to the renewed silence of the land. Just one wolf? He directed his horse forward towards the carnage, towards flattened grass and mud-splattered men and slaughtered beast. He nodded briefly to Belhatir, but frowned pensively at the carcass. "It's rather scrawny, to be thinking of making a meal from so many horsemen," he observed, putting the statement out there for the trainees to chew upon.

Or not, depending upon the quality of trainee.

For his part, Aris flashed back on the last image the Web had left him with -- one hunter, alone, without even horse for company... or swift movement. He lifted his gaze to the flooded plain, looking out along a trail his true eyes had yet to distinguish from the environs. His thoughts asked, and his mind reached to the Web for answer: what had become of that hunter?

But the Watchman had barely begun to ask the question when the world demanded his attention back. More cries rang out across the water, their timbres made indistinct by distance, yet enough to stiffen his spine and bring his nerves back to the edge of alert. It was difficult to say whether they were cries of challenge or alarm, but either way -- theirs was clearly not the only conflict to play out along the shores of this aberrant lake. His instinct was to enter the Web and seek more information... but Aris throttled it, turning instead towards the two men who, in one wise or another, seemed to be setting themselves up as leaders among the trainees.

And there he waited, giving them the opportunity to do just that: lead.

coordinationShort post, but it moves us along! Obviously, I figure we're now even with Khida's own altercation. Feel free to converge with the end of the solo, however you see fit!

Khida space Common | Pavi
other space Common | Pavi

[Dravite]

In the shadow of Aris and his Strider, legs painted with blood splatter and his arm burning where the wolf had managed to land a bite, Dravite sat with his head down, silent. He held his hand over the wound which had bled at first, but seemed to have stopped as the adrenaline subsided and his heart-rate returned to normal. Belhatir had saved his skin again, just like he used to when they were children, always advising Dravite against his outrageous ideas and silly adventures. Soon, he got to his feet and turned his arm to assess the damage; it seemed he would live, hell, he even managed to smile, if somewhat humbled.

“It’s rather scrawny, to be thinking of making a meal from so many horsemen,” Aris made mention of his observation.

Dravite looked down at the wolf, or rather, the pathetic broken bag of bones that almost resembled a wolf; he had never seen one quite so malnourished. “Are they usually fond swimmers?” Dravite wondered aloud, noticing the wet mud on the animal’s legs and belly it must have acquired while wading through the swamp like ground surrounding the river.

“Perhaps this used to be his home?” Wolves were territorial after all, though it still seemed strange for a lone wolf to attack like that.

The horses were wild, trotting back and forth, afraid to venture near, but too curious to leave the scene all together. Dravite held his hand up and summoned Cree with a call, one the Strider chose not to answer; typical. With all that had happened Dravite’s thoughts fell far from his duty, ignoring the usual senses that told him to consult the web to learn more. He heard a cry in the distance and knew his ears had not lied to him when both Aris and his Strider looked in the direction of the sound. “We should go and investigate,” Dravite spoke up before looking to Belhatir for reassurance.

While the group gathered to make plans, Dravite kneeled beside the wolf, taking his dagger from the leather belt he wore. It was fair to say there was nothing much worth taking from the wolf. The pelt was shaggy in places and bare in others with scabs and nicks dotted here and there. Caiyha, Dravite’s chosen goddess, hated senseless waste, and so it felt wrong to him to just leave without taking something that he might one day find a use for. The man stabbed his dagger into the animal’s jaw and when that didn’t work; he cut back the gum with the edge of the blade and wiggled the upper fangs free. He tossed one to Belhatir as if to say ‘good job,’ then made his way over to Cree, careful not to excite the horse too much, then climbed on.