Charroux wound through the thick trees. His great hooves pounded the moist mulch of the forest floor, kicking up brown speckles across his muddied white legs.

 	Derrix scanned every shadow diligently while he rode on top of his horse. Using only his knees to guide Charroux, he held his bow with a notched arrow, ready to shoot any danger that could have caused the ripping scream he had heard bounce off the trees. 

	Wind rushed past the charging pair, and even though the rain had stopped, their force through the moist air dampened their faces and left dewey beads in Derrix’s otherwise dark hair. 

	The already lighter cool air suddenly turned thick and humid as the two continued their sprint. The sudden absence of the the rain’s chill brought a strain to Charroux’s muscular legs and the horse slowed. Derrix sympathetically nodded toward his horse, unwilling to part with his bow to pat the animal. 

	A soft hue of light radiated off of the mounted mans he and his horse continued into the shadows of the forest, eager to find Sana, and the source of why she had screamed. The ground turned muddy, and Derrix slid of of his horse, realizing the opportunity for tracking.

	As if heaven sent, the man quickly found the outline of a bare foot pressed into the mud, and another, and another. Derrix looked over at his horse and swung his bow over his shoulder in favor of his sword, which he pulled from it’s scabbard with a shrieking rasp.

	Walking along side what prints he could make out of the mud, he continued, Charroux in tow.