A cool breeze rustled Drest's straw-colored hair, but the rest of him was still as stone. It seemed almost as if the loose buckskin that covered him didn't dare move. He narrowed his eyes at the unsuspecting doe that browsed in a clearing ahead. Her hide would sell, he thought, for a good sum of pons, which he could then use for supplies that didn't come easy through a life spent mostly in the woods. He'd injured the poor creature about a mile south of here, and she walked with a limp that she clearly made an effort to mask. A pang of sympathy washed over Drest, for it reminded him of something he might do, had he been in a similar situation. Either way, she seemed to have think that she had lost him. Good. She wouldn't see the final blow coming...

And the deer didn't, as he predicted. A poisoned dart he'd bought for maybe five pons back in town, a fairly good deal, thudded neatly into the thick furry neck and caused the animal to bellow in pain and alarm. When its legs shuddered and buckled, Drest strode over and finished the kill.

The rest of the afternoon was spent butchering the doe and scraping the hide. It was grueling work, but it was better than paying for dinner, and it would last longer too. Plus, back at Belvast, with this skin so well-preserved as it was (he couldn't help his chest swelling with pride at the finished product) he was confident that he could fetch a good price for it. After rinsing his bloody hands in a small pond and scraping the dry scabby material from underneath his fingernails, Drest began the long walk toward town. Funny types came out to shop in the evening. He could probably even cop this hide and perhaps some meat for more than it was really worth.

When he arrived at the city, though, an uneasy feeling settled over him. He didn't know where it came from, but he had a sudden urge to drop everything and run. He resisted: he really needed some money, and somewhere to crash before his wanderings for the next few days. So, with a mysterious dread weighing on his heart, the man wandered down the street, hung a few turns and settled in his usual selling place. It took a few tries to sell the pelt, but eventually a woman and an oddly snake-like man both evidently had their eyes on it. Starting to sweat, Drest thrust the fur into the woman's arms before her price could be beaten and hurriedly snatched the money offered. "Thank you," he muttered, then out of obligation, said the same thing to the man, repeating one more time: "Thank you for your business. I have to go now."

"So soon?" came the soft voice of the pale snake-man. It was the auditory equivalent of smoke swirling pungently from a freshly put-out candle. "You just got here; surely you have more to vend."

"No, sorry," said Drest, his spine straightening. It was an unconscious way of making himself look bigger and more powerful, a way of intimidating a possible opponent into backing down. It didn't make him feel any better about this mysterious person. He turned away so as to head North but a sudden sharp pain, like an invisible hook had sank into his chest and pulled him backwards, back towards this... magician. With a cry, Drest turned into the only form he knew how to take: a leopard. The change broke him free and in moments he, a cat bogged down with buckskins and pouches was bounding frantically for the forest, the night deepening.

(Edit: I am so sorry for the mistakes in here.)

The winter air was crisp around Laila as she read from her magick book. Just the way she liked it. There was much that she hadn't learned about magick because, well, she honestly hadn't tried. Lately, though, she'd had an unscratchable itch to study more and more. It made her father, Draenik, proud. Even now, as she sat beneath a young cedar tree, her father looked at her with pride from where he sat on the porch steps. He whittled away at a piece of wood, no doubt in Laila's mind that he was creating another wand to sell. The morning was early, and most of her brothers were still asleep. The only other one who wasn't was Jasper, but he had since ventured off into the woods. He spent a lot of time gathering herbs and other things for his potions that he sold. Most of the men in Laila's family were merchants, and she noticed that the women were typically homemakers. Laila dreamed of being the Royal Mage one day.

As Draenik prepared a bag stuffed with wands, Laila rose from her studying place and marked the page in her book, setting it on the porch railing as she approached her father. "Can I come?" she asked him, looking up at the tall man.

Draenik was a man of few words. He was content to listen rather than speak, unless he was speaking to teach his sons a valuable life lesson. As he looked down at his daughter, he nodded his head with a slight smile, throwing the bag's strap over his shoulder and gesturing for her to follow him. The two walked down a long dirt road surrounded with trees and other small houses and cabins. Along the way, Laila looked around her at the plants that grew underneath the trees. She learned from Jasper some of their names and uses, but found herself stuck at remembering the name of a particular blue plant, which she new was used to revive one's magick abilities once their energy had run out.

Laila and Draenik arrived at the market square, and quietly Draenik spread out his variety of wand sticks about a wooden table. Each wand was hand-crafted, polished, and enchanted. Draenik once had the opportunity of becoming the Royal Mage, but denied the offer, which greatly baffled Laila. She never pressed into the subject.

The sun came and went, and once it was getting ready to dip below the horizon, most people were gathering their selling things to leave while some were just arriving. Laila witnessed an encounter between one man and a strange-looking other, along with a woman. Laila made a face because she felt uneasy, though about which one she wasn't sure. Something didn't feel right, but before she could bring it to her father's attention, the man had shifted into a large cat and darted past them so quickly that Laila could not tell what animal he had shifted into. It had caused a lot of heads to turn that way, and Draenik stiffened, but said nothing. Laila looked back to the other two and gasped when all that was left was a fading cloud of black smoke. Several other people gasped, and some even shrieked.

Dark magick.

Draenik, with his bag once again around his shoulder, put his hand against Laila's back, pushing her toward the road that they'd come from. The journey home seemed long due to the tense aura around the two of them. As they neared their house, Laila could have sworn she saw that same blonde man entering a small, almost un-noticeable opening in the forest. She bid her father a silent farewell, and he let her go. She took off quietly behind the man.

"Hello?" she called out to the darkness.

Drest turned his head stiffly, a pale cloud of breath dissipating into the darkening forest. A voice calling, "Hello?" had made him tense: after the encounter with the dark magician he wasn't in much of a mood to talk. His jaw tightened and he fixed the young woman with a suspicious stare despite the failing light that made it harder to see. He still felt uneasy, but the dread that had tugged at his heart was gone. No assumptions, he reminded himself. She could be working with that... that thing. A large calloused hand brushed back his hair and he sighed softly, a little shakily. He wondered if she'd seen what had happened, and how much she'd witnessed.

Not wanting to be impolite, he strode at a relatively slow pace--he was being cautious--toward the dame. Perhaps she was lost or needed help, and he had plenty of time to be a decent person before resuming his forest wandering. One bushy eyebrow raised a little. He considered lighting one of his pine-pitch lamps but held off for now; they were a precious resource and he didn't know how long he'd be here.

"May I help you?" he asked the woman. His voice came out a little rougher than he intended.

The sight of the man ambling over to her at such a slow pace was quite eerie. For a brief moment, Laila considered turning and running away. After all, what would those two dark mages have had to do with him? Perhaps he was a dark mage too. What if he purposely was luring her in as some sort of sacrifice? These thoughts raced in Laila's mind, causing anxiety to bubble up and twist her stomach into a knot. His harsh voice startled her out of her own mind, and she froze.

The first words that danced at the tip of her tongue were intended to be spoken with just as much venom, saying I thought maybe it was I who could help you. However, she hesitated, rightfully so. She stared at the man for too long of a time, trying to take in his appearance and judge his intentions and character by that. Her purple eyes glowed slightly in the moonlight, which struggled to break through the branches of the trees overhead.

"I just wanted to know if you were alright," she finally found herself saying through a pained, hoarse voice. She winced and wondered why on earth her father had let her spontaneously chase after this man like this. He was normally more cautious than that.

There must be a good reason, then, she decided. For if her father agreed to her doing something so risky, there was a reason. A logical, purposed reason.

The man stopped several feet short of the stranger; after the experience he'd just had he didn't want to risk getting too close to anyone in case those mysterious snake-people could disguise themselves. Those purple eyes were certainly...uncommon, although he wasn't sure whether to be suspicious of them. Worse, he couldn't stop returning the stare that she gave him. Quietly he sized her up and decided that--at least for now--she was not a threat. Still, too risky to come any closer for the moment.

The sound of her hoarse voice made Drest feel more sympathetic. This surely wasn't some evil wizard come to finish him off when there were no witnesses. This was just a pretty girl who wanted to know if he was alright after the encounter back in town. Although there were cobwebs of wariness still left in him, he now felt bad for having spoken in the tone of voice he had, despite it being unintentional.

This time he made sure to speak more gently. "Yes, I'm alright. It was but a pushy client, you see, and with nothing left to sell I left in a hurry before he could lose his temper." He hadn't seen the man disappear, so when he said it, he actually started to believe it himself. He must have imagined that invisible hook that had tried to pull him by the gut. Yes...it was in his head. It was not real. He'd had a long day and not enough water.

Laila unconsciously pulled at her own thumbs, staring through the growing darkness that seemed to build a thick wall between the two. The man surely couldn't have seen the two mages vanishing into black dust, but she wasn't sure if it was her place to tell him. After all, it could get her in trouble. There was no telling what this man could have been involved with. Nevertheless, her mouth opened seemingly on its own and the words fell from her mouth with ease.

"He used dark magick," she told him, straining to see his reaction. She felt herself stiffen at the mention of the practice. "I saw him cast a vanishing spell. Well, I-I didn't really see him cast it. I just saw the black cloud that was left."

Tugging at her thumb even harder, Laila still couldn't shake the feeling of wanting to flee. However, the man before her hadn't seemed to pose a threat toward her, and she felt it would be rude to suddenly take off. Then again, she figured, looks are deceiving. He could be plotting her downfall at this very moment.

"My father was almost a royal mage," she blurted carelessly. "If you're in danger, we could help you."

What was she doing, offering her father to this man like that? Regardless if he was once a candidate to be the royal mage, Draenik was very old, and could have forgotten most of the things he'd known before. Laila felt the sting of regret and guilt in her bosom, and her eyes fell upon her feet instead of straining to see the man.

"I'm Laila," she said, voice dropping at the last syllable because she had, once again, given terrible information, thus making herself vulnerable.

Drest went cold. Dark magic... it was his worst fear, the suspicion that had tugged at him earlier that he'd pushed away. He should have trusted himself. He should have run the second he'd seen the snake-faced bastard approach and that cold uneasiness settle so heavily inside him. But he didn't, and now he was here with a stranger he still wasn't sure whether to trust. Every moment be became less wary, but there was still that vestige of distrust. That quiet voice that told him, She'll bring you to him. She is acting.

"I'm...not in danger," he said, although the doubt in his voice was palpable. "I'm sure he was after someone else. Maybe I just, looked like someone he wanted dead. You know?" He was afraid that he was mistaken or simply lying to her. He was afraid of going with her and risking giving his trust to a stranger. Even more scary was that he didn't really have much of a choice, or that was what it felt like.

"Laila... um, pretty name. I am Drest."

(boom shitty post)

Laila couldn't quite decipher if Drest's tone was condescending or doubting at his own words or hers, and so her face heated up with embarrassment as her mind decided to settle on the thought that he was patronizing her for coming after him. To make the sudden redness worse, she felt a ridiculous amount of flattery once he complimented her name. Instinctively, she crossed her arms and turned her head, trying to hide it.

"I-If you ever find yourself needing help," she found herself saying, "Our house is just a bit down the road, to the right."

Idiot, a voice screamed in her head. That was it. If this man was evil, she'd just given up her and her family's entire life.

"Let's say--hypothetically--that that stranger really was after my blood," started Drest. "If I were to take the asylum you have so kindly offered, what's to say that this evildoer won't find me at you and your father's home? What's to say he wouldn't bring harm to you for sheltering me?" These thoughts brought up his heart rate and his tanned skin pale and cold, though it wasn't very discernible in the darkness blossoming around them. He wondered if he'd have enough time and light to build a shelter at this hour. If not, he could always turn into a leopard and snooze on a sturdy tree branch, but it always made his back hurt in the morning.

Grunting softly, he untied a torch from his belt and held the shaft in his teeth before lighting it with a spark from a small piece of flint and a pathetic bit of iron. The warm flickering firelight that enveloped the two relaxed Drest, if only a little.

He offered the torch to Laila, wordless. He had his answer.