He knew to stand tall. Draw the stance wide, puff out his chest. Artificially inflate his body to take up more space. One could easily scare off the odd coyote or lone dire-wolf if the proper body language was maintained. Griff clenched the long file in his hand, and bit back fear. This was as familiar a feeling he'd experienced since being dropped into the strange grove by this Mote. Nostalgia nudged him again as he glanced quickly to the two young women across the grove, and he couldn't help but see his sisters' scared faces.
"...And we need to be ready to run," he added quietly.
ith the dog's help, it didn't take long for Capella to be freed, and once she was, the girl wrapped her arms around the brown haired woman's waist, burying her face into the other's chest. Too frightened to speak her thanks, Capella chose to let her actions speak for her.
She only pulled away at the sound of the man's voice, him telling them to get ready to run. Not sure if she could handle anymore of this, Capella looked to the cat eyed girl hopefully, wondering if sh would follow the man's orders or not.
Suddenly, something on the Mote caught her eye, and she stopped, transfixed. She wasn't especially far away from it, so she was able to discern a couple of the runes etched into its surface. As she squinted at them, Demorra realized with a start that she could read them. They said Seven and Chimaera.
Demorra shook her head. Whatever this was, it could wait. Right now, there were more pressing matters. She turned to Capella, and offered her a hand. "Come on, dear. Let's get you up and moving. You heard the man; we need to be ready to leave here at any moment."
The moment Demorra recognized the runes, the aura of the Mote shifted; Griffin and Capella would both feel it, too: a tingling warmth, combined with a low pulse of the runes' glow. The Mote seemed to resonate with Demorra's attention. The creeping vines slunk back into the ground --
-- and the Mote disappeared, as if it were never there at all.
"Ka! It's gone!" a shout rang out among the trees, coming from the herd of strange beasts -- which, as they arrived closer, turned out to be men draped heavily in furs, riding woolly elk and carrying spears. Their faces were streaked with red paint. The elk huffed and pawed at the grass.
One of the men held up a glowing, humming device that cast an odd blue light upon his face.
Demorra would understand this, recognize who they are -- but it was all on the tip of her tongue, not quite defined, the memory foggy.
She knew she had to run.
"There's a Sight here!" the man roared, as if calling to battle -- he glared directly at Demorra.
"What's that thing next to her?" another elk-rider sneered, referring to Capella's curious appearance.
Already, a few of the elk had launched into a gallop toward the group, their riders fierce and their weapons sharp. Hooves pounded the grass as they wove expertly between the trees; their riders leaned forward with bared teeth, the dead furs windblown on their backs. Each elk was curiously adorned with precious gems in their harnesses; bags heavy with the telltale clink of coins hung from each saddle.
"Take them both!" their leader shouted from behind -- an elder man draped in the fur of a white wolf.
"Kill the boy!"One of the riders aimed a spear at Griffin; another leaned down to grab Demorra and Capella both, a hefty arm outstretched, so conveniently were the girls attached to one another.
The Mote beckoned to Demorra; it had reappeared a few yards away, its red glow pulsing against the white trees.
Behind Griff, at an equal distance, was the entrance to a deep cave, dark and far too small to allow the elk to enter.
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