Rayadell’s attention shifted to Calanon when he moved, her grip on the staff habitually tightening. Her cool eyes narrowed slightly as she took in the recognition that crossed his face, a recognition she was unsure was toward the curse alone, or of something deeper. Her back stiffened at the thought; had that simple action shown him more than she had intended?
She raised her chin in acknowledgement of his show of thanks, but made no move to return it. She watched the Elf reach into his pack, and glanced toward her shoulder with a quiet sigh, wishing she could remove her own pack without unveiling her draconic characteristics. The tip of her tail curled and straightened beneath her brown cloak in irritation, making the fabric ripple slightly.
Rayadell looked back to Calanon when he pulled out a small parcel wrapped in large laves, and readjusted her grip on her staff. She glanced to the trees when the misty form of the tree spirit reappeared, jumping to a tree closer to them as if curious as to what the package contained.
She glanced between him and the leaves, her expression aloof, before slowly kneeling down and taking it with cautious slowness. She unwrapped it, glancing a couple times to Calanon as she revealed the pleasantly browned cake.
Her chest rose gently with a “huh,” motion, and her brows furrowed fractionally at the show of kindness.
She sat the cake and leaves on the ground between them, and carefully tore the cake in two, the honey filling oozing from the center in all its golden sweetness. The sight made her taste buds prickle, and stomach remind her of its existence and need for food. Placing both halves back on the leaves, she nodded to it for Calanon to choose a half, her watchful gaze on him.

His face was covered by his thick hair as he remained bowed before her, in respect. However, the small, nearly indecipherable change in her breathing, and the unwrapping of the leaves brought a twitch to his keen, Elven ears. The young Ranger looked up slightly through his hair and blinked, still very curious about this new companion. She accepted it, which brought a smile to his face. It gave a more mannish look to his features rather than Elven, due to his watered down human blood.

He blinked once more, his mouth an 'O' shape and his brow raised now that she had offered him his own half. His curious and keen eyes met her gaze, and he gave a nod and scooted a bit closer, his legs still crossed. He reached down to gingerly pick up the small cake, and his smile was warm as he bit into the tasty treat.

Behind them, the only movement past Calanon eating and watching Rayadell with his midnight blue eyes, was the crackling fire and Brogach softly eating the grass. The moonlight filtered through the trees, making curiously ethereal spots in the soft grass.

After Calanon finished his treat, he closed his eyes and placed his palms together in thanks for her sharing the gift, bowing once more to what he perceived as his new friend. His next action was to take a calm sip of water from his waterskin, easing his throat.

Rayadell paused at his smile. Though her face never wavered from its nearly unreadable stoic expression, her head cocked slightly as she wondered if, perhaps, this elf had some human blood in him.
She blinked and raised her eyebrows at Calanon’s show of surprise at being offered half the cake. She waited as he scooted closer, her back stiffening slightly at the motion and her gaze flicking once to the staff now laying on the ground beside her, reassuring herself of its existence.
Once he had chosen his half of the cake beneath Rayadell’s ever watchful stare, she took the remaining half, careful to not create more crumbs than necessary as she tore off a smaller piece, biding her time casually until Calanon took the first bite. Only once he had swallowed, was she satisfied enough to pop the small, crumbly piece into her mouth.
As simple as it was, it had been ages since she had had a treat as sweet as the cake. She ate slowly, savoring each sticky bite, ever aware of her companion’s eyes on her. She returned his thanks with a quick nod, keeping one eye on him as he reached for his waterskin. Finishing her portion of the treat after Calanon, a silence falling between them, she brushed her hands off on her cloak, and looked to him.
“Do you wish to take first watch,” she picked up her staff and leaned against it, still kneeling, “or shall I?”

After a long moment, he realized they were both looking at one another as they ate. He guessed they were both keen on silence with a healthy mix of curiosity and wariness, as most forest animals were. The only difference being, he was more open once he established a friendship. He did not mind her being less so, however. He'd met a few forest beasts that had her disposition, even after becoming acquainted with him.

It seemed she enjoyed the treat, and that pleased him greatly. He looked to her, and Brogach approached as she leaned on her staff. "I'll take it," he offered her. He got to his feet with relatively lithe and little effort. With equal ease, he knelt down and then leaped. He looked like a frog, his powerful legs rocketing him up and into the lowest tree branch above them. He grabbed a hold of it, and hoisted himself up swiftly.

As he sat poised up there, he strung his recurve bow and sat against the trunk of the tree. Brogach seemed unsure as of what to do. Calanon clicked his tongue, and Brogach moved to the opposite end of the fire to give Rayadell some space, and to play the part of a lookout as well, of sorts.

Rayadell’s attention snapped to the elk as he approached, her grip on the staff shifting as she straightened and took an instinctive step away from the great, antlered beast.
When Calanon answered, her head turned back to him before her eyes followed. Her chin rose slightly as he got to his feet, before she offered him a small, quick nod. She took another step back when he knelt, then jumped onto a tree branch hanging above them. She cocked an eyebrow, wondering for only a moment whether he was showing off, or simply had had the urge to jump.
“I’ve left a bit of wood behind.” She nodded toward the direction she had hunted for firewood as Brogach trotted to the other side of the fire. “I’ll return shortly.”
She turned and headed back into the forest, pausing to cast Calanon a last, quick glance before weaving between the trees.
Not wanting to risk remaining in Calanon’s line of sight in case she had not alerted him to her race, Rayadell went a bit deeper into the woods than she thought necessary, leaving her pile of wood well behind her. Once in the privacy of the shedding trees, some pines mixed in and adding shades of moon-drenched green, she cast a wary glance around her, leaned her staff on a tree, then unhooked her cloak. Though sure the tree spirit had followed her, she removed the garment.
She suppressed a relieved groan as she stretched her wings out behind her, the appendages thankful for the chance to stretch and scaly tail curling and straightening in contentment. She quickly unhooked her narrow pack, then reluctantly wrapped her wings around herself so they would create less of a bulge at her back, yet still remain hidden beneath the cloak.
She sighed sadly as she readjusted the cloak around her shoulders, missing the days when such precautions were unnecessary. But those days were long dead, buried beside the people she once loved.
She shook her head with a snort, then went to retrieve the wood, her steps quickened by frustration at herself for letting the thought seep into her mind. With her pack draped over her elbow, staff tucked under an arm, and the wood in her arms, she returned to their campsite.
As she passed, she cast another quick glance to the trees, looking for Calanon, dumped her armful of wood in the pile she had already brought, and knelt on the ground beside the fire. Laying her staff beside her, she dropped her pack on the ground to use as a pillow and laid down on her side, carefully keeping the cloak drawn around her like a blanket.
Rayadell closed her eyes, and listened, her sensitive hearing picking up on even the gentlest of rustles. Though the chilly woods may have looked nigh deserted to the untrained eye, the night was very much active. The braver crickets that dared venture into these colder parts chirped softly, their songs odes to summery nights. Night birds rustled through the trees and gave their haunting calls, while a few owls hooted nearby, posing their repetitive questions to each other in a loop. A wolf howled in the distance, another answering its call.
Ever so slowly, she dared let herself drift into a light sleep, any noise louder than the usual music of the night stirring her back into awareness.

Calanon responded with a "as you wish" to her, and got comfortable as she went to gather what wood she had left behind. He knew that it would be a welcome thing to keep the fire going this night. They were not yet in the coldest region they were to travel, but a warm fire was always good for the spirit, and the body. It roared strongly for the moment, but he'd use the wood she brought back to add to it once it was her watch.

She returned to find Calanon in the same spot, though unmoving and very much alike with the tree he perched within. His dark colors blended in well, and his light swaying matched those of the branches. As Rayadell fell asleep, Brogach knelt down and curled up across the fire from her. Calanon gazed at them both for a moment, considering how similar the two were in his mind. The main difference was that Brogach had nothing to hide, and Calanon suspected that Rayadell had her secrets. If anything, she was even less talkative than Brogach in her own way.

Calanon smiled at that, and refocused on his watch. His bow out and arrow within easy reach, he sat there and enjoyed the nighttime air, and the soft sounds that reached his Elven ears. Fortunately, there was little that needed to be worried about, he found out after most of the night was gone. Nothing had attacked them. He was certain that would change all too quickly when they passed the mountain range, so it was a good first night. He softly landed atop the ground, and knelt before Rayadell. "Would you like to take the watch?" he asked her.

One advantage of being a light sleeper, was Rayadell rarely found herself dreaming anymore. It was the nights when she could sleep easily that she dreaded. But on this night, with the woods around her and a new companion to ponder on, that did not pose an issue.
Still, hours passed quickly in the realm between sleep and consciousness. Though the sound of someone's feet landing on the ground was soft, it was enough to stir Rayadell fully from her slumber. As footsteps neared her, she instinctively reached for her staff in case Calanon had encountered something in his watch--or missed something. By the time he knelt in front of her, Rayadell had her staff ready to pull herself up or strike out with it. With his form lit eerily by the moonlight and the smoldering embers of the fire behind her, she immediately recognized it was only Calanon.
At his question, she nodded and stood. She glanced to the fire desperately clinging to life, and went to the pile of wood she had collected. She dropped a couple logs on the embers, making red sparks flair up in excitement at their meal.
“Rest well, Calanon,” she bade him softly, then headed toward the edge of their small campsite. Though a tree would grant her a good vantage point, her legs felt too restless to remain motionless in the branches.
Slowly, quietly, she made her way around the perimeter, pausing every few steps to stop and listen to the night, to search for signs of anything lurking nearby. Though a deeper chill had settled in as the night grew darker, Rayadell welcomed the temperature and the fresh crispness it carried with it. She cast Calanon and Borgach glances every now and again. The friendship the two shared was unique, to say the least. But it was there, beast and elf. Elf and beast. And both seemed harmless enough.
She snorted at the thought. After all, not everything was as it appeared.
Once, she returned to them as the fire began to die, feeding the eternal hunger of the fire as quietly as she could to avoid disturbing either of them, before returning to her watch, which she had the feeling the tree spirit accompanied her on. Surprising, for a creature that usually had a short attention span.
When at last the sky began to lighten as the sun started to awake, Rayadell made her way once more back to her companions, giving the Elk a fair amount of space on her way to Calanon, just in case.
With one hand on her staff, she knelt carefully, and moved to place her other hand on his shoulder to wake him should her presence not be enough to do the job. “Calanon.”

Calanon gave her a nod of thanks, before he called for Brogach to canter over. The Elk approached, and then sat its haunches down upon the ground, before curling up entirely. The Elk looked fairly tired, in all honesty. After all, it had run for most of the day. Calanon stroked his friend's mane, and then plopped down beside him. The Elf lay his torso and head atop Brogach's stomach, and he fell asleep, rising and falling with his mount's breathing.

Calanon slept easily. He wasn't unintelligent, nor was he unplagued by doubt or remorse. But even with his curse, his spirit was true. The Elf had done his best in his life, and he appreciated the simple things like sleep. He had nothing to worry on most of the time. The curse had taken days to get used to, and even such a thing couldn't keep him from finding his rest.

Calanon stirred just before Rayadell reached him, though he knew it was no danger and only roused when she placed a hand on him. "Ah, morning," he breathed, opening his eyes and sitting up. He stretched, his already slim waist growing slimmer as his chest broadened from his yawn. "Thank you," he grunted, and hopped up to his feet with all the energy in the world. "Shall we eat some breakfast and head on our way? We're to go pass the mountains by noon, I think."
@Siaya Dragalorn

Rayadell backed away as Calanon sat up. She habitually checked the position of her wings to be sure they still created less of a hunch since her pack now rested on the ground, without showing through the front or bottom of her cloak. She watched him silently, only giving a short nod in response to his thanks. She cast his elk-friend a quick glance before Calanon spoke again.
Her stomach growled in approval at the concept of breakfast. Rayadell’s eyes narrow fractionally in irritation, wanting to be on their way. But, alas, eating was a necessary inconvenience. Hoping, since she had not gotten the chance to hunt the night before and did not desire to use the few bits of jerky she kept with her so early on in their travels, the Carishes had added a few bits of dried meat into the food they had graciously given them, she went to the other side of the stone ring.
“Breakfast sounds like a wise idea.” She began kicking dirt onto the few embers remaining of their fire still clinging to life, snuffing them out. “I believe I gave you the provisions the Carishes sent us with?”

As she asked, he had reached into his pack and began unraveling the coiled cloth around the foodstuffs. The Elf laid it carefully between them, his crossed legs and lower body stationary as he reached, before bending down to reveal the treats. There were various wrapped snacks, including what looked like beef jerky and cheese, as well as dried fruits and nuts in smaller pouches for on the go snacks. There were two whole apples as well, and the three loafs of bread looked soft.

Normally, he would remain with just the fruits and nuts. He would only ever eat meat if it was from an animal that had lived a full life and was ready to return to nature. But as it was, he knew there was a long journey ahead and it would be best to have as much energy as he could, so he grabbed a bit of cheese and jerky and ate them together between a cut loaf of bread. His face looked stuffed like a chipmunk as he ate, his eyes closed as he savored the food and filled his belly.

"Quite good," he said to Rayadell happily, satisfied with his last bit of food. He washed it down with some water from his waterskin, and then he hopped up and stretched. He wasn't showing off, but his stretching was quite acrobatic in some ways, stretching his arms normally, before flipping and landing to stretch his legs. "Would you like to ride Brogach again, or shall we walk this morning?" He asked her when he landed, heading over and giving her a smile.
@Siaya Dragalorn

Rayadell watched him with her usual, emotionless stare as Calanon reached into his pack. She leaned lightly on her staff until he sat the wrapped food on the ground between them. She stepped toward him and knelt, her hand running down the smooth, intricate carvings of the weapon.
She gave him a curious look when he went for the strips of cured, dried meat. She had met very few elves along her travels who chose to eat meat they did not at least know the origin of. She opened a couple of the smaller pouches to see what was inside, impatiently waiting for him to finish gathering his food. Once he had completed his sandwich, she tore off a chunk of the bread and cheese, and grabbed a fair portion of the jerky for a single meal.
Though she ate the cheese with the bread, she left the jerky on its own, happily sating the carnivorous side of her race last, enjoying the flavors of the mild salts and spices coating the meat.
Once she finished, she stood, offering only a stiff nod to Calanon’s observations of the food quality. Her brows rose as he went through a stretching regimen, a pang of jealousy momentarily flitting through her at his freedom to do so while her wings ever itched for the same release.
“Practicing to become a tumbler in a carnival, are you?” She smirked as she went to where her pack still lay by the now all but dead fire. She picked it up as he posed the question of their means of travel.
She glanced up through the trees, its leaves giving glimpses of the snow-capped mountains awaiting them. The wish to get up there, to be surrounded by the familiar cold and desirable altitude, made her antsy to arrive as quick as possible.
Instead of voicing her desire, she waved her staff dismissively as she turned her back to him, taking a couple slow steps toward the thicker trees. “Whichever you think best. Your elk traveled quite a ways yesterday. Should he need a longer rest, our feet are quite capable. You choose. I’ll return shortly.”
Rayadell hurried through the woods. Once sure she would be out of eye-shot, she removed her cloak, relieving her wings for a short moment in her own stretches, before placing her pack at her back. She reluctantly drew her wings in to her back as close as possible, then replaced the cloak around her shoulders.
She returned to their makeshift camp a couple minutes later, sure he heard her coming from a long ways off.
“Which will it be, then, Calanon?” she asked, her head cocking slightly, the strand of black-tipped white hair ever over her face shifting slightly.

His smile reached his eyes, causing them to close as he chuckled. "I've never considered the carnival. I've only heard tales of it," he admitted. Indeed the closest thing he'd seen of it was peddlars and entertainers in local village taverns attempting to make enough of an impression to get a room for a night. He was more glad that Rayadell had a teasing side to her.

Calanon turned to Brogach. "It's your decision old friend. Are you too tired for us?" he asked. Brogach shook his huge head slowly, and then nudged Calanon's head with his great snout. Calanon smiled in return, smoothing his truest friend's snout with his hand, and then he leaped upon Brogach's back. Once Rayadell was on, they were off.

The companions bounded out of the small forest and into the bright, sunlit fields. The day was warming up, the sky above them a vast blue sea with nary a cloud in sight. It made the huge mountains they now approached through the pass between the peaks seem insignificant in the scale of things. Still, despite the looming sun and it's incredible warmth, they could see small piles of snow halfway up the mountain as they entered the pass. A few miles ahead they would be beyond these mountains and into the northern marches proper.

Rayadell blinked at Calanon in surprise, before shaking her head and walking into the woods as his attention turned to Brogach. Even she had passed through a carnival or two in her travels.
When she returned to their clearing, Calanon mounted the elk as if in answer to her question. She strode toward the odd pair, ever cautious of the animal from years of conditioning. She hesitated a couple feet away, and her gaze shifted from animal to elf.
Despite traveling so closely for so long the previous day, he showed no obvious signs her curse was draining him. Yet.
She took a breath, debating on if even entertaining the idea of traveling via elk a second day in a row was worth the risk it may pose to Calanon. Or even, for all she knew with her little experience around animals, the elk.
But they were waiting, and the mountains calling, the very air around her whispering the promise of fresher mountain breezes. Besides, the sooner they got to their destination, the sooner she may be capable of breaking her curse. Exhaling, she closed the remaining distance between them and mounted the elk behind Calanon. Holding her staff so it would not hinder the animal’s stride, she held onto him with her free hand as the elk darted forward.
Around the gentle rush of the wind tugging at her hair and threatening to reveal her mark to the woods, she focused on the sound of both the elk and Calanon’s breaths, listening for any unexplainable variations. She watched their smallest movements, paying attention to the elk’s speed to be sure it remained consistent. If the curse decided to begin to sap their strength, she would know.
At least, she hoped she would.
As they entered the mountain pass, Rayadell broke from her diligent watch to look up to the peaks of the mountains. The sun made the points look deceptively warm, but the snow drizzled over the mountains a couple miles up like glittering icing shone the truth on the sun’s lies.
Rayadell took a breath and closed her silvery eyes. She had avoided the mountains for so long. Her grip tightened on her staff. Even here, in the narrowest pass of this smaller range, excitement and belonging mixed with regret and disgrace inside her at the reminder the risen earth created.
They entered a grove of pine trees surrounding the narrowing path, their needles adorned with beads of morning dew. No sooner had they passed between their trunks than what felt somewhere between nature’s version of gossip and a warning reverberated through the trees and brushed against her mind.
She inhaled and her eyes snapped open. A few members of the Promixtra—a group of notorious thieves, bandits, and murderers that cared only about skill, not race or gender—prowled these woods.
“Calanon!” Her voice low and urgent in his ear, she moved her hand to his shoulder as they sped through the trees. “There are—”
Before she could pass on the warning, a large ball of rock and fur rolled from the trees onto the path a couple yards ahead of them. Reaching the middle of the trail in the blink of an eye, it unrolled into a stocky man clad in furs and rock-like armor. He blocked their path, a massive, stained battle ax held threateningly in either hand, his stance daring them to try barreling past him.

Calanon's ears twitched, hearing their ambushers before they had shown themselves as well. But he had been too intent on keeping his reign on Brogach, and did not have the frame of mind to ready himself as Rayadell had. He yanked on Brogach's neck to reel his Elk to a halt, skidding to a stop.

Calanon could not quite hold on however, and let the momentum yank him off his mount. Luckily, the Elf was indeed fit for the carnival, and rolled in midair to land with his knees bent and sword out. He was without his shield, but he was still a fierce swordsmen. Brogach stamped irritably.

He looked back and forth, and leaped back from both an arrow that had flown out of the woods, and the advance of the Axeman. He leaped back once more to grab his shield from Brogach's side. "Rayadell," he whispered.

Promixtra swordsmen charged out of the woods as Calanon blocked another arrow with his shield. "Switch places. I'll take Brogach and get the archers. Meet you in the middle?" He didn't know how Rayadell fought, exactly. But if he could take out the archers quickly with Brogach, he could do a surprise flanking attack on the Promixtra brigands out front.

Rayadell expected the animal’s stop, Broach’s hooves digging into the earth of the path.
A second before the animal jerked to a full halt, sending Calanon overboard, she nimbly leapt from the elk. Her cloak flared slightly around her feet, but settled quickly, the tips of her wings easily mistaken as another garment to the unsuspecting, untrained eye. With little more than a thought and the gentlest touch of magic, the second her feet landed lightly on the path on the same side as Calanon, a long, silvery blade shot from either end of her staff.
She scowled and glanced to the woods as the axeman took a step forward, a wicked gleam in his beady eyes as he swung his weapons, Calanon dodging an arrow.
Rayadell scowled and leaped forward, ducking, at another, quiet thwang of an arrow being loosed. It soared over her head from above them, the archer hidden by foliage. The arrow embedded into the base of a tree on the opposite side of the path.
She gave Calanon a quick nod. “Do it, and do it fast!” she snapped, quickly stepping around him to face the man in his rock armor. Hoping Calanon was as skilled at fighting as he was at acrobatics, she gripped her staff, ready to fight or defend with it.
“Tell ya what!” the man called, his voice gravely. “Surrender your goods, and we just might letchya go!”
“Cute.” Rayadell smirked at him. “But not going to happen!” She rushed at him, forcing his full attention to her. White flames erupted from her palms and spiraled down the shaft to the sword blades, igniting them in fire.
The stocky man undoubtedly had strength on his side, but she had speed and magic.
The man cursed and jumped back out of her reach as fast as his bulky body let him as she brought first one blade down on him, then swung it swiftly to try meeting him with the other.
Narrowly avoiding her attacks, he shouted something in a language she did not recognize. The sound of two more arrows being released faintly met her ears, one right after the other, giving her only a fraction of a second to register the sound and dodge.
She stepped swiftly back, each step a slight hop. The first arrow dug into the ground where she had stood, while the second pierced the hem of her cloak. She swiftly yanked it free, expecting the archers to fire off another round, but the rock-man charged her with a guttural cry, swinging his axes in a deadly arch.
She raised the staff and blocked one of his blows with the shaft, then tilted it to deflect his second. The blades stuck slightly in the wood, making hot sparks flair up from the stream of flames, and she moved to kick him as she jerked the staff to the side, trying to knock him off balance.
His weapons pulled free when she twirled the staff, and he stumbled back to avoid her kick. She lunged forward, ready to strike, but another arrow rushed by her. Its tip and fletching grazed the back of her neck, catching and pulling at her hair as it shot by.
She gasped and was forced back by a second shot from the same direction in quick succession.
“Any day now, Cal!” she called as the man tried to take advantage of the arrows’ distraction and lunged once more.

"Brogach!" Calanon called, leaping with his powerful legs to land ontop of an already bounding Elk. He grabbed an antler to keep himself steady as Brogach leaped straight into the dense foliage that the archers hid behind. There was only the barest hint of their passage, the Elk and Elf as used to thick woodlands as a fish was to water.

They nearly landed atop the first archer, Calanon's sword flashing and cutting into the startled man, his cry cut short. He fell, dropping his bow onto the ground. Calanon used his free hand to grab his shield that was still strapped to Brogach, and rode Brogach without holding onto his mount, using his Elven balance to keep him upright. They continued onward in the fashion, flanking the Promixtra brigands who had attempted to flank them.

Rayadell could hear startled cries from within the forest every now and then, and soon no more arrows were loosed from the woods. That is, until a strange, long arrow flew out of the underbrush and struck the Promixtra man atop the head. His helmet had blocked the piercing missile, but the metal rang and reverberated, briefly messing up the swordsman's vision.

The Elf ranger appeared out of the treeline, dragging a groaning archer along with him. He had his own recurve bow in his freehand. Brogach was behind him, walking out into the clear pass to stamp his feet in irritation at the action he'd just endured. "Sorry it took me awhile. There were more than I thought," Calanon said to Rayadell.

The commotion of his comrades being attacked made the stocky man—who Rayadell figured could very well be a dwarf beneath his rocky armor—scowl and mutter a string of curses.
She heard the rustle of other archers rushing to the aid of their fellows, and the corner of her lips twitched upward.
The man gave a loud, guttural roar and rushed at her, murderous anger shining in his eyes. Now, it was personal.
Not having to worry about avoiding arrows as well as axes, Rayadell easily blocked his blows in a single, swift movement. The strength of each hit as her staff met the axes’ handles just below the blades reverberated through the staff, but her weapon held faithfully firm. She put all her weight into the staff to thrust him backward, ordering the flames to burst from the blades.
The man stumbled back, the fire licking at his unique armor and threatening to sear the skin visible beneath his rocky helmet.
As he moved, she caught a glimpse of a crack in his armor. A small, easily overlooked slit between a couple of the rocks creating the otherwise overlapping pattern, it was just what she needed.
An arrow thunked into his helmet, making his head jerk to the side as he stumbled a couple more paces. An arrow Rayadell recognized from Calanon's quiver.
She spun her staff to point one of the blades at him, then lunged at the stunned man, aiming for the slit.
Slower than before, he tried to raise one of his axes, but the fiery blade slid through his armor and into the man’s gut with the squealing rasp of metal on rock. The man gave a shocked, gurgled cry, and his body went rigid for a moment, pain and disbelief flashing over his eyes.
The white flames died away and Rayadell yanked the blade from him. She jumped back as he collapsed to his knees, dropping his axes, then fell face-first into the path.
Her attention snapped to the tree line when movement met her peripherals, but it was only Calanon. She looked back to the dead man and snorted. “Never cared much for the Promixtra.”
She placed one blade against the ground, the other coated in red at the tip. She summoned a short burst of flame once more to the blade, and it quickly burned away the crimson as Calanon approached.
She shrugged in response to his apology. “You did what you set out to do.” She turned to him, and raised her brows at the archer he dragged behind him. “Do I want to know?” she nodded to the archer as she pulled the blade from the ground. With a thought and gentle magical push, the thin, deadly blades retracted back into the staff.

"Well," Calanon spoke, his voice a bit too jovial and lighthearted after such a furious few minutes of combat. "I thought we could question this one and see if they worked with anyone, or if this was mere happenstance." Hopefully Rayadell could see the wisdom of that, if not the morality of it. Brogach tramped behind Calanon out of the bushes, halting gracefully between the two Elven companions, shaking leaves off of his fur.

The archer continued to mutter as Calanon dropped him, but it didn't take very long for him to regain his senses enough to know he was in some deeper trouble than he was used to. Then again, he could be one of the dead men so he should count his blessings.

His boots scuffed audibly as he backtracked like a cornered rat toward one of the trees, hands and feet in the dirt. Unfortunately for him, and arrow thudded into the timber beside his head, and the man's shivering gaze whipped to and fro between the arrow and the Elf that was already drawing another.

"Wait wait, please! I'll tell you anything!" The man pleaded, nearly flailing his arms about. Calanon didn't give him a quick answer, his face hard set, much like a wolf or other beast intent on their prey. The man's eyes fell from Calanon's stern gaze and he whimpered.

"Who are you?" Calanon asked him sternly, bow string taut and stance wide. The query was terse but not threatening, despite the real threat of his bow.

"C-Cordon, sir. Just a highwaymen. A footpad!"

"Who sent you?"

"No one. I- well, my boss. The one the girl there thumped good did, but no one side's him. We were hearing rich folk would be coming through these mountains."

"Rich folk?" Calanon echoed, before letting loose his arrow. It punched into the bark on the other side of his head this time. A yelp accompanied the jump that followed from the bandit's surprise. "Do you mean us?"

"I swear I don't know!" The man said, holding up his hands. "Just rich folk. Was all I 'eard from the boss I swears! Please spare me. It was all hearsay I says! I just joined the Promixtra, I s-swears! I just need some coin for me mum and sister."

Calanon looked to Brogach for the Elk's opinion, but the creature seemed impassive of the man's pleas. That was somewhat odd. Usually Brogach was quite a good judge of character. He then looked to Rayadell, wondering what they should do with this man.

Rayadell gave a single-shoulder shrug. “Fair enough.”
When the elk trod between her and Calanon, she instinctively stiffened and took a step away, keeping a wary eye on the beast. She looked away just long enough to glance to the sky, partially obscured by the foliage brave enough to face the cold weather. She sighed, hoping the archer would not take long to regain consciousness.
Thankfully, it only took a couple minutes before the archer began to stir. It seemed to take the man a moment to fully register his situation, before he scuttled back in fear.
Rayadell gave her staff a little magical push, and one of the blades retracted from the top end with a gentle, ominous shing as the archer backed himself into a tree. Holding her staff to the side at the ready, using the shaft to keep her cloak from opening wide enough to expose her folded wings, she took a couple slow steps to the side in case he panicked and tried running. She stared down at him with her one visible, unforgiving eye, her expression hard.
Her head tilted slightly toward Calanon when he released an arrow, drawing an immediate surrender from their once-attacker. She snorted at the man’s cowardice.
At Cordon's answer about his boss, Rayadell scowled and looked to the man she had fought, his body looking more like a mound of rocks in the middle of the road than a corpse. Of course she had killed the one who could have given them decent answers. But there was nothing she could do about it now.
When Calanon finished his questioning, her eyes narrowed. She saw Calanon look to her in the corner of her eye, but she did not look from Cordon.
She could not tell whether the archer was an expert liar, or simply a disposable tool for the Promixtra. He did not look like much of a threat, but looks could be deceiving snakes. What she did know was, as far as she was aware, the only people who knew they would be passing through, were the Carishes. It was possible, she supposed, that any number of ‘rich folk’ could have been expected, and they had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time, but Rayadell was not one to put much stock in things being just a coincidence. At least, until she knew for sure one way or the other.
“A coward,” she began, her voice low and dangerous, “a thief, and a Promixtra with no useful information.” She stepped forward to stand in front of him and stretched her blade toward him so its sharp edge rested only inches from his chest. “You don’t have much in your favor, do you, Cordon?” She spat his name.
She paused, her head cocking to the side. “But unless my companion has a better idea,” she cast Calanon half a glance, “I’ll make you a deal. We’ll be passing back through here in a few days’ time. Stay here and be a lookout for any ‘rich folk’ or odd happenings, and report what you find to us upon our return. Or,” she pressed the tip of her blade against his chest just enough for its sharpness to prick into him past his clothes, “I can send you to your grave with your fellow highwaymen. Your choice.”

The Elf ranger's hair waved lazily in the breeze, a soft breath from the north flowing through the pass to bid them welcome. Calanon did think Rayadell's suggestion was better than anything he could come up with. He'd rather not permanently dispose of the man, for he wasn't a foul Orc or a poacher. Simply someone who had been given hard choices in life, and unfortunately took the ones that led him down a dangerous road.

Calanon took a sure step toward the man. "If you're gone when we return, you'll be tracked." he added in no uncertain terms, agreeing to the suggestion by Rayadell. In fact he gave a nod to her once the promise to the man had been made. Behind him, the highwayman nodded, sweat beading off his forehead. He swallowed what little moisture remained in his throat. "Y-Yeah, sure as I am, I'll stay put yer Elfships, swear on me father's grave."

As if a blanket of grim sorrow had been lifted off of Calanon, it seemed to be enough for him and he gave Rayadell and cheerful smile. "Well, that's settled," he said. Brogach nudged the Elf, and Calanon patted the Elk's snout. "Right," Calanon replied, and lively hoisted himself upon his steed's back with ease, bringing Brogach around so Calanon could extend a hand to Rayadell to help her up. "Less than a day away," the Elf said to her confidently.

The pass before them was not much farther, and through the thinning woods their keen, Elven eyes could catch glimpses of rolling tundra and rocky crags.