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	Orren jumped at Evelyn's mention of sausage, immediately realizing what had been bothering him. He felt half-starved. The scent of fire-roasted meat had been poking the back of his mouth, but he had not noticed it until then. When his tutor left, Orren's head spun to Rhoo.

	"Meat!" he said, smiling. He enjoyed that word, too. It was a simple word for one of the most important things in life. "Meat, Rhoo! We should go." He did not wait, heeding Evelyn's warning about the food's waning quantity. He stalked down the rest of the way to the main hall.

	The sheer number of people intimidated him as it did every day. Too many factors, too many dangers, impossible to keep track of them all. That was another lesson he had been learning: how to trust in your comrades. He never before had such a thing. In this, however, he looked to the wolves once again. He tried to visualize them as a pack - an absurdly large one - and this also served to aid him in learning the guild's hierarchy. He knew he was above most of the lot, the servants, the watchmen, and the newcomers. He knew he held similar footing to the other slayers, like Rhoo. Evelyn was above him in the pack, being the daughter of the guild master, and that earned her Orren's nickname.

	Then there was the master himself. Orren had seldom witnessed Master D'Orion, and the times he did were never pleasurable. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise every time, and had to fight the urge to bare his teeth. Maybe it was the wolf thing again, and Orren could not accept him as leader. Or maybe it was the simple cold hostility the man exuded. He could not tell.

	Orren fought his wariness away with determination. He quickly locked on to a young man delivering several bowls of sausage and approached him, snatching two greasy wooden plates from the tray. He bounded away, ignoring the man's protest. Whoever they were intended for, they belonged to Orren now. Or they did as soon as he could get them into his mouth. It was not long ago when the woodsman would simply growl and bear down on others until they handed their meals over. He had quickly learned that that was not the way of the civilized. Feigning ignorance, however, was an acceptable substitute.

	Orren found himself an empty corner of the long tables placed throughout the hall. He nearly inhaled his food the instant he sat. He had no idea intestines could taste so good. He usually left them for the dogs. Whatever medley of meat composed these "sausages", it was not something Orren had ever tasted, but was nonetheless delicious beyond his meager vocabulary. They were made even better by the fact that he did not have to cook them himself.

	As he ate, he watched the people before him, pondering the day and what it had in store. He had often wondered this since joining the Sodality. No longer required to seek food or water, he had ample free time, and usually spent it simply wandering the guild hall and the nearby mountains. It had been too long since they had a good hunt.