Mashal, The Broddring Empire
October 10th, 7999 AC

It had rained in the night, a dark and viscious storm who's wind tore across roofs like the wings of a thousand dragons scraping overhead. The sky lit with charged light, flashing across the landscape and coming down on the earth with vengeance. To any spectator it might have appeared as if the sky had gone to war with the ground.

The worst had been the rain, pounding down as far as the eye could see, and washing away everything that wasn't nailed down. Many farmers forced themselves out of their homes to watch their fields and make sure the channels and other precautions they had set did their job. More than a few would be hastily replanting small sections that gave way. The more neighborly farmers opened their barns and sheds up to those who didn't have any, allowing their animals to mingle for the sake of keeping them dry instead of letting them get sick and cold.

The storm petered out late in the night, but before the sun rose. The village slumbered for a few more hours than usual, trying to make up for lost sleep. Even as the day went on the village came into motion slowly and with wide yawns being traded in the streets. Despite the weather, the storm moved quickly and was out of sight before the first rays of light. The day grew steadily hotter, and soon there would be no signs of the storm except for the bloated river to the east and the bridge whose western end was in the now-expanded river.

If anything, today was shaping up to be the slowest and most unexciting day in the town's history.

---

Galen Derricson

Something big was going to happen today. That was Gale's first thought when he awoke that night. Moments later he was wondering why, exactly, had he woken up in the middle of the night? As thunder cracked the sky, he decided that that must have been the reason. The sound of rain striking the ceiling also might have done it.

He was half a thought through deciding to roll over and continue sleeping when Freya popped into his mind. They hadn't finished her shelter! She was going to be soaked!

Thus explained the reason he was among those up and racing about the town in the middle of the night. In the end, he was soaked no matter how fast he ran, so he inevitably stopped running. Freya was allowed to sleep in the neighbors shed, which also played home to three cats and five sheep that night. The horse didn't seem thrilled at the arrangement, but neither did she wander into the fields, even when the doors were left open and the storm had passed.

Gale spent the morning back in bed, but even after the few hours he'd spent napping he was cold. His hands were at least, and his face and feet. The blanket around his shoulders did a fair enough job drying and warming the rest of him. It was long after the usual time he woke up everyday when he finally left the house, finding it empty and his parents likely busy.

For a moment he stood outside under the sun, trying to decide what he should do for the day. Then a horse whinnied from nearby and he started off to collect Freya. She couldn't stay in the neighbor's shed all day, and he needed to feed her and water her, and give her a blanket, just in case she was still cold too.

It didn't take long to do those things, and soon he was wondering what to do again. After a moment of thought he decided to go to the forge. The sun was quite warm that day, considering how cold and nasty it had been that night, but Gale would bet the forge would be much warmer.

He wasn't the only one to think so, and by the time he arrived many people had been shooed off and a ring of fires had spread out nearby while a few people huddled by the forge itself. The fires were mostly small campfires, but in a nearby field a taller fire had been made with thicker logs, hosting a larger group of people. Many had decided this was to be a lazy day, despite how rare those were. Most of the attendants were mothers, their children nearby playing together, others were those who could afford a day off or were too old to work.

Gale was one of those who could afford the day off, but something in him said this wouldn't be one of those days.

He approached the biggest fire, in the field, sure that if he wanted to rid himself of the lingering chill that fire would do it fastest. A large log had been rolled over, providing a few with a place to sit, and another was in the process of being moved closer to provide more seating. Gale wasn't concerned though, he didn't need a place to sit.

He wasn't just going to stand there all alone though, so he started glancing around to see if he could find any of his friends.

Grendel's night had largely been spent laying in a puddle of mud trying to make himself as small as possible. It wasn't that he was unaccustomed to cold, quite the contrary really. Gren was quite certain that he would have no trouble recovering from this tempest, that wasn't the problem. The fact that he was getting soaked to the bone wasn't an issue either, he could dry. It wasn't that he would be filthy in the morning, he could wash. It was the principle of the matter. Who the hell chooses to spend his evening getting buffeted by rain in the middle of a bloody puddle!?

The storm didn't last though. Like all the rest, it went slinking back into it's lair, waiting to unleash watery hell upon the denizens of Mashal once more. Gren used this time to wash himself and his clothes in the nearby river under cover of night, basking in the new dawn rising before him. He could barely see his reflection peeking back at his pale face, courtesy of the dim light. Tired, sleepless eyes and an ever frowning mouth... Grendel left the river, and sat for an hour or two before dressing into his still damp clothes.

The fires attracted Grendel like a bear to honey. Though his pride would refuse to admit that the moist clothes and last night's chill bothered him, his feet had thought otherwise.

Gren's mind was elsewhere as he found himself bumping into something warm and made of flesh. He stepped back swiftly, only to see Galen standing before him. "Sorry about that," He said in an even voice. "It's been a rough night. Well, rougher than usual."

Galen Derricson

Gale stumbled forward a step when someone crashed into him, and he turned to see an apologizing Grendel behind him. He hid a wince, having entirely forgotten about the boy and that he likely hadn't been able to get out of the storm what with everyone who was awake focused on protecting their possessions, livestock, and crops rather than the homeless kid.

"Don't worry about it," he dismissed easily, after a night like the one Gren no doubt had, Galen could forgive something as minor as an accidental collision. He then gave the boy a speculative glance over, concluding he was probably hungry, and likely bored. "Say, feel like scoring a meal?" If they left now they might be able to catch a few woodland critters just stumbling out of their homes after a long night sheltereing from the storm. Gren probably needed that food, but they could always sell the extra to the butcher's and make a bit of coin, splitting it between them.

Really he just wanted to get out of town, that feeling that something big was happening was still stirring cheerfully in his gut. They could invite a few others too, this soon after such a nasty storm the woods were likely quite full, enough to score a surplus if they were lucky. Much of the village seemed content with their lazy day or too busy repairing the storm damage to participate in a hunt however, so they'd have to go it alone or pick up those they felt they could convince to go. "We could get a group hunt together, what do you think?"

Gren looked Galen over carefully, the distant fire already helping to soothe the ice out of his bones. He'd been friendly enough to Gale whenever they came into contact, though Grendel was in contact with other people much less often than, let's say, someone like Alphonse. "Say, feel like scoring a meal?" Now here was an interesting prospect. Gren's face brightened momentarily at the thought of all of the traps he had set out there. Going hunting with Gale would be a good way to earn some extra coin and get him one step closer to purchasing that pair of leather gloves he'd had his eye on. Then he remembered the storm. Stupid, stupid, stupid! It must've washed away all of the snares!

"We could get a group hunt together, what do you think?" Gren smiled weakly. There would be no extra coin coming, he imagined. There would be no surplus of pelts and meats to trade for after he'd gotten his fill. The storm had saw to that. "Sure," He said, disappointment thinly veiled behind an aura of nonchalance. "Sounds like a good idea." Gren wasn't too bad with a bow anyways, maybe they'd earn a considerable haul.

"Small" Alph was only just arriving in town for the first time in months. He hadn't been able to find a place to stop the night before, and was too far to travel the rest of the way in the rain, so he had slept under the cover of trees with his horse hobble nearby with a cloak draped over her. He had woken a few hours before dawn, the rain having stopped, and saddled up to make the rest of the trip. It was midmorning when he made it to town. His first stop was his grandfather's house, walking in like he owned the place after putting his mare up to rest.

"Granddad?" He called into the other rooms, before turning to the stairs that led into the basement where his family brewed their ale. "Auntie?"

It was the old man who came up the stairs, wiping something off his hands on a towel. He was toothless and hairless, but his arms were strong from lifting barrels and casks. "Eeeh, the smaller Alphonse. Though," he stood up straighter to try and get the measure of his grandson, "I'm not sure which of you is the taller after all."

~~~

After changing clothes, and learning that his aunt had married a merchant from a larger town and gone off to live with him, Alphonse stepped back out the door, to see who was still around. He had the same boots(they were his only ones) and they had only dried a little by the fire before he put them back on, but fresh stockings helped. He also still had the battered and chipped sword hung on his belt. He didn't expect to use it, but it made him feel dashing to wear it, whether he'd ever so much as knicked someone with the blade or not.

He found Galen Derricson and Gren the Forest Urchin among a group who were warming after the rains by a large fire. Alph got up behind him and threw his arms around both of their shoulders.

"Gren! Gale! I swear, every time I come back you're more the handsome strapping young man," he turned to Gale, "And you're, uh, more rugged," he turned to Gren, his smile flickering. "So what's going on? Anyone else's family gotten married off?"

Gren fixed his one good eye on Alph, smiling slightly. "Not as far as I know. My hag of a mother certainly hasn't found anyone that dumb yet!" He chuckled. "Really, nothing much has happened here since you've gone. The river's still wet, the trees are still green, and I still get a free pass when 'accidentally' bumping into cute girls." Grendel found that it was quite easy to joke about his missing eye, as he couldn't quite lament not having it when remembering life without it was nigh on impossible.

"Actually, Gale and I were going to go out hunting soon, maybe you could come along?" He cracked a grin. "You can tell us about your travels while we look around for more people to hunt with." And just like that, Grendel Kirk once again found himself in a good mood. He often wondered himself what allowed him to be so flexible, so inconsistent in that regard. Gren also figured that it was more of an advantage than anything else, and decided not to dwell on it.

Though heavy were the storms, Demund managed to sleep through the whole night and only found out when he woke to the fresh smell Mashal had after a rainstorm. Going to his father’s room to wake him, he instead found an empty bed. Assuming he had gotten to work before him, Demund hastily pulled back his hair and put his heavy apron on ready to assist his father.

As he opened to door expecting to see the flames of the forge, the view was instead obscured by a crowd who was using it as a sort of campfire. Quickly he spotted his father among them. He wasn't hard to spot in a crowd as he was a rather large man with a full gray beard being the only hair he had on his head. A large smile was spread across his face as he conversed with the townspeople.

It didn't take long for his father to notice him as he excused himself from the circle and walked towards him calling in a proud booming voice. ”Demund my boy! Finally up eh?” Demund softly nodded but changed the subject pointing over the the circle of people. ”Father, how do you expect us to get any work done with the forge crowded like this?” His father replied with a few tisks and placing his arm around him. “Son, not everything is about work. Last night left people could and wet and we just happen to have the hottest fires burning on our land. If it costs us an hour or two letting everyone warm up and dry their clothes then I say it's worth it.”

Demund sighed and agreed with his father. It was hard to argue with the man when all he wanted was the help others out. Though now Demund had to find something to occupy his time. Just as he began thinking of ideas, he noticed a group of familiar faces had started to gather nearby, one of them soaked to the bone. ”Looks like Gren spent another night on the streets.” his father looked over and shook his head, ”That boy. Haven't I made it clear our home is open if he needs a bed?” Demund simply shrugged and gave a simple response. ”I guess he's too proud to come over every… night...Excuse me.” Demund took his father’s arm off of him and ran towards the group.

His eyes had caught something he hoped wasn't true. As he neared his worst fears were confirmed; Alph’s sword was still in disrepair. ”Alphonse you crazy bard have you no respect for craftsmanship? That blade is long overdue for repairs yet you still won't bring it in!” Demund pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. It was almost painful to see such a well made weapon be handled with such little care.

Galen Derricson

Gale grinned, glad to have a conspirator in his plot to have a hunting adventure in the woodlands. "Great, I-" Then he was surprised by another body wrapping around him- or just the body's arm anyway. Alph's voice brought an excited smile to his face, one that was sure to endure all day because of the older boy's return to the village. Only it didn't. He glanced down at the compliment, embarrassed at the flush of emotion that ran through him, and glanced back up just in time to see Alph's expression flicker, making Galen doubt the honesty of the words.

Feeling doubly embarrassed about his feelings twisting up in response to false words, Gale's expression fell, and he looked away to hide it while Gren invited Alph along. It was a good idea, embarrassed or not, Galen wanted to hear the stories all the same.

He began looking around for the others they were going to invite. Maybe one of the girls? Few of them hunted, and it would be nice to change things up and bring on of them along, or a few if they wanted, Galen had no desire keep the wonders of traipsing about the woodlands to the menfolk only. A glance back at Alph revealed the distraction for what it was. He hastily forced himself to forget the fleeting misunderstanding on his part.

He was about to voice the idea, of seeking out the girls, when a new voice called out to them. Demund had found them, and was now fussing over Alph's sword. Alph was quite popular among the youths in Mashal, he wasn't even surprised really, after all, Gale was quite fond of the reckless young man himself. Demund's fretting was actually quite amusing, and returned the grin to Galen's face. "He won't be needing that where we're going." He commented, "Why don't you come with us? We're going to try and get the jump on something furry munching on the still-dewy leaves." He said almost teasingly, though who he was teasing was up in the air. "I'm feeling lucky today, think we might even make some extra." That wasn't exactly true, he wasn't convinced that was what he was feeling, but something was going to happen and what was more likely than a good hunt?

Ancient. Timeless. And despite all that, not even born yet. Slumbering. Waiting. What was she was she waiting for? She forgot. The desire dulled over the decades, only to be suddenly jerked awake again a few years back. Like a part of her has been missing. A tool that would allow her to truly awake. But they weren't coming to her. She could feel them leaving and returning, being gone for months. She was fed up with being ignored.

Her body might have been a tiny sack of meat encased in a stony shell, but she was a dragon! Her mind would always be great! And it demanded to be let loose. Focusing all of the thoughts she could muster, she yelled into the thought world at the clueless fool that remained oblivious to the calling of his own mind.

They were joined by the smith's son, who doubtless knew more about the weapon he carried than Alphonse did.

”Alphonse you crazy bard have you no respect for craftsmanship? That blade is long overdue for repairs yet you still won't bring it in!”

"Well sadly everyone in the empire is taking their coin to the local smith for their own swords, and leaving very little for a song. If ever I bring myself to one, I have to shoe my wretched old horse before I can have them look at this sorry blade. The sword keeps me safe, but the horse gets me home."

Of course, Gale invited Demund along.

"Why don't you come with us? We're going to try and get the jump on something furry munching on the still-dewy leaves."

"Does Gren have a sister?" he jested.

Alph had a point. Traveling as much as he did horseshoes would be a higher priority. But at this point if he were to face trouble that sword could take maybe one or two well placed strikes before shattering. ”Well just promise you’ll bring it in before you leave for your next adventure. You know my father would rather his favorite singer be safe than make a few coins.”

Initially Demund was going to decline the offer; hunting wasn’t exactly his sport. But remembering the forge was currently occupied and he had nothing else to do, he decided it wouldn't hurt. ”Sure, why not? I think I've got a bow lying around somewhere.”

Gren rolled his eyes at Alph. "I used to have a sister, but then we got into a fight over who was going to munch on the last still-dewy leaf and I had to kill her." He licked his lips savagely. "Very tasty." In truth, Gren really did have a sister somewhere out there. She left before he was a year old and no one is really quite sure where she ended up. Grendel's entire family was a bit of a taboo topic anyways. It was only something that you talked about behind closed doors, if ever.

”Sure, why not? I think I've got a bow lying around somewhere.” Gren rubbed his hands together in mock delight.

"Great! That's four of us then. Should we ask around for anyone else? Four is plenty, but more couldn't hurt." The fact of the matter was that Grendel wanted an excuse to surround himself with more good looking boys and maybe a girl or two if they were lucky.

Galen Derricson

Gale grinned slightly at Gren's joke. "Alright, run home and get your gear." He suggested, "If you see anyone you want to come with then ask 'em to come with. We'll meet at the bridge." He hadn't even thought before he said the words, but now that he said them he paused, confused at himself, and yet didn't speak up to correct himself. He and his father did most of the woodcutting to the south, behind their house, so it wasn't the best place to hunt given the noise and sparse trees. Most hunting was done in the north for that reason, heading up along the river in the thicker woodlands. With that in mind, the west was the best place to go hunt, neither over hunted nor overlogged.

To the east was the bridge over the Ramr River where sparse wooded hills steadily broke up until it flattened out shortly and turned into the Hadarac Desert. No one hunted there, not to mention the western portion of the bridge was partially submerged in the swollen river. Despite this, Gale felt it was important that was the way they went. East across the bridge to the hills. The more he thought about it the more certain he became. His bemused expression became firm, and he nodded once as if to say 'yeah, that's right.' Then he promptly spun on his heal and jogged back home to collect his bow and arrows.

"The bridge?" Alph was quipping again, "Looking for a troll to kiss?"

As the others started to disperse, Alphonse turned towards home as well, only to stop and stand very still very suddenly.

"RELEASE ME FROM THIS PRISON!"

The feeling was strong, but the words were faint. He couldn't make heads or tails of exactly what that was, and brushed it off as an artist's fancy as he continued on his way. Perhaps it was the beginning of a song he didn't realize he was writing yet.

A sword would do him no good in the woods, so he left it in his room at his grandfather's, and replaced it with a knife. He didn't own a bow, so he grabbed a skin full of Old Alph's Ale to bring with them. If he couldn't help with the hunting, he would have to make them glad of his presence in another way. With those, he went to the bridge in question, strode halfway across it and leaned on the railing as he waited for the others.

Gren stood before the door to his mother's cabin, trembling just slightly. He summoned his courage and opened the door, stepping within. The sounds of shouting and struggle could be heard within for a few brief moments before it ceased abruptly. Grendel emerged from small wooden home with a split lip and a few flecks of blood on his cheek. He had his bow now. Gren took a few shaky steps away from the house before starting off at a trot towards the bridge.

Alph was already there when he arrived, so Gren took a moment to wipe off the stray dots of crimson liquid with the sleeve of his tunic. He then approached Alphonse wordlessly, and stared off into the distance, his face a shade paler than usual.

---

"Mother? I, I just need to grab a few things. I swear, I'll be out in just a moment."

"You? You filthy little rat! You're not going anywhere!" Gren's mother hefted a heavy a heavy drinking goblet and hurled it at Gren's face. The goblet hit him square in the jaw, and blood began to leak from his lip.

Gren held his jaw, staring at his mother in shock, and then rage. "You... you fucking cunt!" And with that, Grendel hurled himself at his mother, until the two were nothing but a frenzy of biting, and kicking, and anger. The fight ended with Gren straddled over his mother's chest, his hands tightening around her neck.

"I hate you! You ruined my life! You and father ruined me! YOU'RE A MONSTER!" His mother opened her mouth in response, though only spittle leaked out. Then it was done.

Grendel could not make himself speak. He instead chose to wrap himself into a ball and cry silently. With that done, Gren retrieved what he arrived for and left.

The bridge? Demund didn't hunt, but everyone in the town knew that wasn't a very good area. Still, he wasn't going for actual hunting, just to kill time with friends, so he didn't question it befoe the group split to get their equipment.

Heading back home he took his apron off and hung it up and began the search for the bow. After nearly taking the house apart he unearthered the weapon, a quiver, and a few well made arrows. Once he was equipped he ran out the door and told his father he was going hunting.

Making it to the bridge he smirked when he found Alphonse and Gren already there. ”Just waiting on Gale are we? Speaking of, anyoke know why he wanted to hunt on the East side?”

Galen Derricson

The front door was open when he arrived, which indicated someone was home. He saw his mother sat at the table with three wooden bowls set out. One was filled with a pile of green fruit, another was a bowl of water, and the last had a much smaller pile of fruit. In her hands she used a wet bit of cloth to wash them and place them in the other pile. He didn't look too closely at the fruit, instead passing by her quickly and entering his room, which had a lower ceiling as it was a shorter extension to the once-smaller house. His father had been meaning to redo the room since Gale was ten, since he'd built it before he became as good as he was now at construction, but he never did.

Gale popped open the wooden chest at the foot of his bed, plucking from it his dark wooden bow and leather quiver of light wooden arrows tipped in dull metal. He rushed about with a bit more haste, grabbing an extra pair of socks, a pair of fingerless gloves, and snagging a short knife. After a moment he dropped his axe into his belt. It was one of his more prized possessions, having been made in Bullridge and bought in Gil'ead, it was well made and had cost a few pretty coins to buy. He'd never brought it with him hunting before, only for lumbering, but... the stories of Urgal attacks coming out of the north were worrying, not to mention the bandit problem growing alongside the complete lack of crown response to the threat. Well, best to be prepared, he trusted the axe in his hands more than the bow or the knife.

"Need anything?" He asked, pausing by his mother's side and stealing a juicy green fruit from the clean pile. She slapped his arm lightly in reprimand, but he'd already taken a large bite out of the fruit by then. She sighed, but it carried no real annoyance, only exasperation.

She glanced at him, taking in the bow over his shoulder and eying the axe for a moment with worry, she correctly concluded he was going hunting. "The usual, if you would. Your father doesn't seem to find anything in the forests anymore." She sighed, voice holding a tinge of regret. He wasn't finding any because he wasn't looking, mostly because he no longer cared. That meant their food went unseasoned, their garden dwindled, and his mother no longer received flowers from him.

Galen nodded, hiding a frown by taking another bite of the fruit. "Sure, I'll take your bag." He agreed, disappearing for a moment into his parents' room and snatching the sack from under their bed.

"Thank you," she called as he left. "And keep an eye out for some earthbread! We're almost out of them in the garden!"

"Will do!" He called back, absently thinking of collecting a Loivissa or two for her as he wandered out of his home and over to where Freya had started grazing. "Hey girl, you wanna get outta here?" He asked softly, getting her attention. Soon after he was saddling her and attaching his mother's herb bag to her bags. He didn't expect they'd necessarily need a horse, but Freya was so quiet it couldn't hurt. Besides, he might stay out there for a few days, stocking up on vegetables for the garden.

Even as he thought that however, he knew it wasn't the real reason he began leading a saddled Freya towards the bridge. No, the real reason was just the feeling that he needed her, an unnoticeable prickle in his mind telling him to take her with him. He didn't think about it too hard.

He grinned as he noticed the other boys had already gathered. Here he was thinking he'd been quick, apparently they were quicker. Then again, they didn't bring horses. "You guys ready? I think Freya here," he patted the horse's shoulder lightly, "can help us carry more." Not to mention all the other benefits of having a horse with them! If something happened, a guy on horseback could get help or transport wounded, or... well, there were probably other uses. Anyway, a larger carrying capacity was just what they needed.

Imprisoned for a hundred years. By her own parents no less. 'Donated' like some piece of furniture. She did not choose this. Forced to share her very soul with one of the lesser races or never be allowed to see the light of day. She thought about it. About who to choose. Someone like herself? She was sure she couldn't live with someone like herself being around all the time. She wanted to get infamous on the battlefield, to put fear in the hearts of peasants! She would not share.

Someone she could slaughter quickly before she grown too attached and enjoy freedom? Perhaps a small child? All it would take is a good bite to the back of their neck before the bond between them took a deep root. She was certain a dragon few months old trumped an equally old human. No. She might not object to cheap shots, but extinguishing the life of a defenseless child was unacceptable.

What about an exact opposite? Sure, they would probably never agree on day to day things, but for what mattered, one could do what the other could not. She would draw attention and fight armies. But could she move around unnoticed or blend into the crowd? Listen in to gossip to gain information? Yes, that was who she would need.

An artist to her warrior. A reckless mind to her disciplined one. A happiness to her anger. A gentle hand to her sharp talons.

Not as easy to find as she thought it would be. She had to wait for one to be born. But now for the first time she felt her call take root.


She was not certain her thoughts reached her chosen one for the second time, as even the first attempt left her weak and her thoughts disorganized. She could only hope to be found soon as she sunk into slumber.

"If I had known you were bringing your horse," he paused a moment in thought, "Well, I still would have left mine behind. If she doesn't rest she'll probably die out there."

He glanced down at Gale's axe, and patted his own dagger, "I also see you're better armed than me, but I figured if I put even one more chip in that sword Demund would skin me alive and make a new scabbard for it out of my hide. Lead the way, Ga..."

He trailed off with his hand pointing across the bridge from Mashal, his eyes glassed over. Another strange unbidden thought was coming in. He was having trouble making the words out, just as before, but the foreignness of the thought was more prominent than ever.

He took a step across the bridge, as if he were going to take the lead instead, but stopped, and turned back to smile at the others, as if they were the ones holding things up.

"Come on!"

Galen Derricson

Galen smirked, heading off in the way Alph pointed without noticing the boy's glazed eyes. "Come on Freya, we've got a bit of ground to cover." They didn't really, their destination wasn't far, it would just seem like it because of the flooding. He didn't pause that time, even though he was once again surprised at his thoughts, but he frowned at himself as he led Freya through the knee deep puddle still at the base of the bridge from the previous night's rain. He had no reason to suspect there would be any flooding on the eastern side of the river, actually he couldn't recall ever seeing what was on that side of the river, but he felt rather firmly that flooding would be a problem for them.

Their timing was perfect, stepping off the other side of the bridge just as a new face entered the town. Dressed in dark leather and capped by a wide-brimmed hat, a young woman with bright red hair strode into the village with straps holding her many weapons, concealed and otherwise, and perfectly shined chain mail sparkling in the morning light beneath her thick coat. The chill was fading fast under the hot sun, but the woman didn't show the slightest hint of discomfort about the heat despite the many layers of her thick clothing. She gave the villagers dirty looks as she passed, peering about the town and scrutinizing every action made nearby. The boys had vanished into the sparse treeline by the time she came anywhere near close enough to see them.

A single metal pendant hung around her neck, dangling in full view of any who saw her. A half crescent moon under a pentagram, the symbol of an unknown organisation.



Galen was a bit off put by the hill they immediately began climbing as soon as they entered the treeline. He knew the east was hilly, but he didn't think hills meant mountains! Then again, if these were hills, he didn't think he ever wanted to see what a mountain looked like- imagine climbing one! He grimaced at the thought. He fell into a comfortable silence, eyes scanning the forest floor for anything to put in his mother's herb bag and largely left the critter watching to the others. Freya was perhaps the most quiet of all of them, not making a single sound as she easily kept up with Gale's admittedly slow climb of the incline. It was a good thing too, because now that they were beginning the start of their hunt silence was important so they didn't spook anything. Not that too many creatures ventured so close to the river, that being where the village was, and the children loved to go swimming in the shallows. If there was one thing that could be said about humans, it is that they were not quiet beings, that was especially true of their young.

Their passage didn't seem to disturb too many forest dwellers; the birdsongs were uninterrupted and annoying dragonflies faded into annoying butterflies as they left the river behind. None of the usual prey revealed itself however, no rabbits or groundbirds, and definitely no deer. Perhaps further in they'd have some luck? There were plenty of tracks, and considering the rain would have washed old ones away, they all must be rather new.

Gale didn't stop to track them however, moving forward in a straight line and barely granting the tracks a single glance. Indeed, the only thing he stopped for was to pluck a single Loivissa flower from the base of a tree and place it in Freya's mane for his mother, and even then, it only took half a second to accomplish the task.