superjars
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What Pain May Come
written by Eukara Vox and Kellehendros
illustrated by lordkaho
The wind swept across the plains, bowing the tall grass, creating undulating waves from edge to edge. Creatures hid among the high stalks of greenery, and as each trough passed by them an ear or nose became visible for a short moment. In a matter of seconds they were hidden, never to be seen again.
A fleet of the fabled Slepna thundered in the distance, running at full speed. Their path took them in a strange zigzag fleeing pattern, which begged to ask why such an incredible creature would be fleeing anything. Their six legs and immense size made them prey to nothing, yet they ran with one common goal: to get away.
Stands of trees sparsely dotted the expanse of grasslands, giving the plains a false sense of shade and security. Beneath them lay animals that were desperate to get out of the heat. Great felines, canids, and a flock of large meaty birds made these oases home for now.
Amidst this beautiful picture of life a settlement was visible on the edge of the plains. Small- and medium-sized huts of hay, brick, and wood rose above short shorn grasses that marked the territory the inhabitants lived on. People walked, ran, and skipped from one place to another, daily business capturing their attention.
Moving past a large pride of felines who had claimed the western edge of the plains against the settlement, the blacksmith's quarter stood stark against the pale blue sky. The dark buildings, forever marred by the forge fires, were stoic. Smoke belched from two of the larger buildings, men and women hard at work within.
To the north, closest to the bordering forest were the homes of the hunters, gatherers, and farmers. Those houses were squat, yet highly decorated by the spoils of their daily toil. The eastern section of the settlement held the homes of the primary families, the big three—those who governed the people living under the flag of Slepna Tamers, the Legacy Clan.
But it was the southernmost part of the settlement that made the eye wander and stay, fixated. This was where the Slepna and their riders lived, breathed, and trained. The great beasts pranced, stomped, and ran in their enclosures, where they lived as kings. Not the free kings they once were, but kings nonetheless. This was the pride of the Clan.
Each section of the settlement seemed to burst with activity. The absence of children in the midday hours seemed to help create a quiet, yet very active, atmosphere. People bustled to and from buildings and arenas, hauling this or delivering that. Some were moving Slepna from the farms to the enclosures, while others were unloading immense wagons piled high with supplies the Clan could not themselves raise or craft. The Slepna that pulled these wagons stood tall and slightly aloof, as though they had better things to do.
A woman rejoiced when a large crate was delivered to her building, causing several people to stop and smile. The healer now had the medicines she needed to attend to a sickness that was traveling through the settlement’s children. The delivery seemed to change the atmosphere and several workers delivered supplies and equipment with a lighter step from then on.
Deliveries went on for hours, long enough to see the release of the children from a central building. Their whoops and laughter echoed over the grasslands, causing several canids to look towards the settlement. A few quiet chuffs later, they resumed their naps. The children wove in and out of the paths of the deliverers, until they all ended at the wooden fences bordering the Slepna enclosures. Suddenly, a child called out, pointing to the east. Several Slepna Riders rushed towards the settlement and the children celebrated, for between two of the great beasts hung the carcass of a very large monster.
As the group moved closer, however, the children quieted. What was once a triumphant entry became one of quiet stillness. The children moved away towards the barn where the newest born Slepna foals were housed. Several adults craned their necks to see what was wrong and fell silent themselves.
The Slepna were badly battered and it seemed that several were missing, along with riders. The leader reigned in his beast, heading straight for the Pavilion of Meetings outside the Eastern section of the settlement. He dismounted and handed the reigns over to a woman who awaited him and she hurried away with his beast.
The others followed suit, two men taking charge of the carcass. Within moments a heated discussion centered around several tired and worn riders flared up. Those sitting council could be seen trying to placate the leader. Though the content of the discussion was not discernible, the irate demeanor of the leader was very plain.
* * *
“A man dead, another wounded, and two Slepna lost! It was foolhardy, reckless, and stupid.”
Autfreg stood silently, his face an impassive mask as his commander, Markot, related the details to the Council on what had occurred. He supposed Markot had a right to be angry; he had, after all, disobeyed the man’s orders by going after the chimera. The group had been searching for the creature for several days, after the breeders reported that something had been at the herds, killing and dragging off several Slepna. Autfreg had seen his chance to kill the creature, and he took it. Markot had wanted to return to the village for more men.
It wasn’t that Autfreg considered Markot a coward. He respected the man, but thought him too cautious when it came to protecting the clan. Then again, everyone seemed too cautious these days. Horwell would have understood. He had done the right thing and people had died—that didn’t mean he was wrong, just that he hadn’t been good enough.
Horwell would have understood. He knew that risks had to be taken.
Autfreg’s eyes refocused after a moment, scanning laconically over the Council as Markot continued. If Markot had one failing, it was that he thought himself a great orator.
Beshera Ulen was furious. She always turned a strange shade of purple when suppressing anger, though she probably had the right to do so. Autfreg was causing trouble for her, the leader of the warriors. His actions—that is to say, his refusal to follow orders—reflected poorly on her and he knew it, just as he knew Markot was no coward.
Niscene Maakilvi, the leader of the smiths, looked pensive. He knew the gravity of the situation yet understood the boy. He too, at one time, had been in Autfreg’s place. Not that anyone would have believed him had he said anything. To those sitting with him, Niscene was just a laid-back ruler who gave too many chances. They had forgotten that, once upon a time, he had been the one standing before the Council more times than not.
His keen eyes swept over the boy. He smiled to himself, garnering disapproval for the other two. To hell with them. The boy led the charge to kill the stupid beast which that blasted Rift belched out into our world. It would have stolen and eaten three more by sunset tomorrow.
He tried to catch the boy’s eye, before looking on to Gellek. “I have but one question at the end, if it is not already covered by that time.” He crossed his arms and sat back, almost casually.
Gellek Zahmer was emotionless. Autfreg could tell nothing of the man’s mood by inspecting him, and that hardly boded well. The leader of the breeders and tamers, Gellek was ultimately the one who oversaw the maintenance and well-being of the Slepna herds. It seemed to Autfreg that the end result of this impromptu trial would be influenced greatly by what Gellek had to say. While the leader of the herds was no doubt grateful that the chimera was dead, the slaying of the monster had cost two Slepna. Autfreg was not callous enough to presume that Gellek weighed the lives of two Slepna over the life of the dead warrior, but the calculus of the matter was bleak. As much as Autfreg might have saved the herds from further predation at the fangs of the chimera, doing so had cost lives from that herd.
“Do you have anything to say for yourself, Autfreg Skalen?”
Autfreg blinked, startled from his thoughts as Gellek addressed him directly, interrupting Markot. The commander grimaced, his expression matching the look on Beshera’s face. The interruption was surprising, and Markot had no doubt presumed he would be free to continue haranguing his subordinate before the Council for a few minutes more before he was forced to give over the floor to them for questioning.
Autfreg wished, for a moment, that Verhere was present. It was an errant, silly thought; the Slepna was being tended by the breeders, checked over for wounds and rubbed down to rest after the expedition. He wished too that he could have his lance or shield with him—not to use them, of course, but rather for the comfort they would provide. Standing before the Council weaponless and without his mount, Autfreg felt a chill of fear that he clamped down on hard. He would not look weak before them: what he had done was correct and necessary. “Council Leader Zahmer, I am aware that I acted against the orders of my commanding officer—”
“Again!” Markot interjected angrily, earning a swift glare from Beshera.
Gellek seemed unperturbed, merely glancing evenly at the man. “Commander Markot, the Council is grateful for your enthusiasm for the enforcement of order. However, at this time the floor has been given to Autfreg Skalen. Please remember the dignity required of a soldier and do not interrupt again.”
Markot subsided, though his eyes were mutinous and his face had gone a peculiar mottled shade of red. Gellek motioned for Autfreg to continue, either not noticing or choosing to ignore Beshera’s stare.
Niscene looked on, somewhat impressed with Gellek’s generous offering.
Autfreg nodded, his face carefully neutral as he continued. “As I said, I acted against orders. It was, however, my conclusion that the situation at hand lent itself to the slaying of the creature. I feel that Commander Markot’s decision to return to the village for more men would have allowed the creature to slip away and thus continue to endanger the herds and village itself.”
“And you expressed this opinion to Commander Markot?”
“Yes, sir, I did. The commander affirmed his order and rode away towards the village.”
“And then what happened?”
“Sir, the others followed Commander Markot, but I remained behind and then rode to confront the creature.”
Beshera broke in, her voice venomous. “And it did not occur to you that in doing so, you would be putting the lives of the others at risk?”
Curious, Niscene leaned forward. Though his expression was one of control, he did indeed find this meeting most entertaining. Apparently, Beshera forgot what it felt like to be a warrior. It had been too long for all of them.
Autfreg shifted slightly, squaring his shoulders. “Yes ma’am, it did. However, I concluded that the element of surprise would allow me to wound the creature, or perhaps even kill it. In doing so, I could protect the herds and ensure that the others would not face the danger. Had the creature killed me, at least it would have left a blood trail for the others to follow it by.”
Beshera glowered at Autfreg. “You were incorrect. The others under Markot’s command certainly faced danger from the creature, did they not?”
“Yes, ma’am, they did. I went after the creature, and the others returned to help. Unfortunately, Terner was killed, Jerot was knocked from his mount, and two of the Slepna were injured by the creature, fleeing the field before we could kill it and recover them.”
The Council leaders glanced at each other, and in the end it was Gelleck who spoke. “Autfreg Skalen, you are suspended from active duty at the present time. We will discuss the matter at length and render a proper judgement. Until then, you are not to join the scouting or eradication teams unless the utmost need arises. This is the will of the Council: will you bow to it?”
Autfreg’s stomach churned, and he felt bile rise in his throat, but in the end he had little choice. He nodded. “Very well. If the Council has no more need of me, I will be on the training fields.” Autfreg turned and left, doing his best to ignore the stares of the others as he walked towards the stables to find Verhere.
* * *
I will not lose you this time, damnit!
Kishnu reared as Isarlath dug her heels into his side. He surged forward and Isarlath nearly left the saddle in the process. “Kishnu, niisy’eth!” Her grip was deathly on the reigns as she pulled back in reprimand. The Slepna snorted, and kept running. The sound of the stallion’s hooves pounded into her head, creating a sort of rhythm. She could see the fabled Slepna. She wanted that horse more than anything.
As if Kishnu heard her thoughts, he kicked into high speed and darted after the one they all called Sin Diob, Evil One. He had evaded capture every time. She would be so close and then he would look at her, as if mocking her, turn up the heat, and race away as if it were nothing to him. She was the best. She knew she was, and one day that horse would be hers.
They all thought she was insane. Sin Diob was huge, even by Slepna standards. The immense power that any of his legs contained would kill her outright if he kicked just right. Her mother hated it when she pursued Sin Diob. Father would shake his head, not wanting to admit he was proud of her. She knew this, but all that would do was spur her on. And right now, that blasted Slepna was in her sight again.
Her own stallion—well, Marcol’s stallion, to be fair—sensed the challenge and began to pull up beside Sin Diob. It's now or never. Standing up in the stirrups, Isarlath launched herself into the air and towards Sin Diob.
The move caught the Slepna by surprise and he stuttered just two steps. But it was all she needed. It snorted and neighed loudly as she landed on his back and locked her arms around the beast’s neck. She held on tightly, even though her body began to slide off. Though she held him, she never had a chance to actually get onto his back.
“I will NOT let you go this time. You had better kill me if you want to be free!”
Sin Diob blinked, as if understanding, and bucked. Her body was thrown into the air and twisted. Fingers still locked, her arms wrenched, causing her to bite her lip hard to avoid uttering a sound. Her back slamming against the stallion’s shoulder, Isarlath was now in a very bad position. In pain, but unwilling to let go, she held on.
A sudden braking, followed by a sharp spin by the stallion, took her by surprise and she was flung far from his body. She cursed and whistled for Kishnu. A loud neigh met her whistle and she stretched her arms, trying to reset sore joints before Kishnu returned. As she watched, Sin Dio actually attacked Kishnu, preventing him from coming to her. The wild stallion huffed at the saddled one and then turned to look at her.
“So, this is it? I touched you! Not only that, mighty one, I held on and rode you!” Isarlath grinned triumphantly. “For the rest of your days, Sin Diob, you will have to remember that I had you!” She reached for a hidden pocket in her chaps and pulled out a thick rope of codlin silk.
The rope infuriated Sin Diob and he charged. His attack was faster than she had anticipated, and she barely escaped as she dove to the side. Stopping on a dime, Sin Diob turned and charged again, this time catching her unable to defend or evade. He lowered his head and hit her full on, tossing her into the air.
Wind knocked out of her, Isarlath struggled to find a good position to land in and hit the ground hard. She blinked and tried to catch her breath as she stood shakily. He would not see her in pain, he would not see her weak. “You... you will not win.” She stretched the rope tightly between her hands and looked the horse in the eye.
Sin Diob pawed at the ground, flinging sod and grass everywhere. He snorted, his breath blowing the grass apart as if parting a sea. He charged, lowering his head again. She watched him carefully, noting that his middle legs were cocked, ready. Running straight at him, she jumped at the exact same time as Sin Diob. The Slepna, unable to change his trajectory mid-flight, found her not only back on his neck but trying desperately to tie the rope.
She held on for dear life under his head. The horse, in turn, thrust his head down as he landed, his jaw connecting with the top of her head. She paused briefly and he reared, trying to kick with his front legs. She successfully tied the rope but lost her grip and fell. He slammed his front hooves down and she rolled out of the way a split second before being stomped on.
Frustrated and angry, Sin Diob screamed. Only twice had she heard that sound, both times from an angry horse out of control. The handlers had died and there was no way she would come this far only to lose. She ran at the horse and lunged, tricking him into thinking she was going for the rope. Instead, she slammed her entire body against his side. Surprised, Sin Diob sidestepped, nearly tripping over his own legs.
She grabbed the rope while the horse tried to regain its balance and awkwardly pulled herself up onto his back. Nostrils flaring, he took off like lightning, bucking, neighing and trying desperately to get her off. The other riders watched, most half in prayer, thinking she had done it for sure this time and was going to die.
Sin Diob ran like this for what seemed like forever. Slowly, Isarlath’s grip began to fail. Her body was bruised, her shoulders still smarting from being wrenched earlier, and she was exhausted. Though she held on, she slipped slowly down his side. Sin Diob took the chance and kicked at her with a middle leg. It connected with her upper thigh and she screamed in pain, slipping all the way off his back, and in one last ditch effort, thrust her arm into the rope until it was lodged in the crook of her elbow.
If she were to die, it would be holding on to the devil himself, no matter how fast he ran or how hard he bucked.
Eventually, Sin Diob slowed until he was at a walk. Still looped into the rope, Isarlath hung on with what little she had left. Suddenly, without warning, Sin Diob stopped and laid down, his breath laboured. Through barely opened eyes, she looked into the beast’s own. It was a beginning and his eyes conveyed that.
Taking a deep breath, Isarlath maneuvered herself until she was in position to ride him. He rose and stood still as she sat up. He bucked once, jostling her, and she held on. With just the rope in her hands, she rode him bareback home.
* * *
Autfreg trotted Verhere back to the end of the training field, coaxing the Slepna around with the simple pressure of his knees. He stared down the field at the target, a slender brass ring, one of many, hanging from the branches of one of the few trees in the area. Autfreg flexed his arm slightly, resettling his shield, his other hand shaking his lance slightly, rising and couching it. He leaned forward and Verhere stepped forward, walking, then speeding up to a trot, a canter, and then a full-on gallop.
Clods of grass and sod ripped up from the earth beneath the Slepna’s iron-shod hooves as the pair thundered down the field at the target. Autfreg shifted his shield up slightly, his face covered by it but for his eyes. The lance in his hand moved slightly, adjusting his aim. Ten yards away the tree loomed, then five, then three, and then...
There was a sharp ringing of metal on metal, a scraping, and then a sharp snap as the thin line that held the ring to the tree branch snapped. Autfreg cantered Verhere around and back to the tree, the brass ring jingling around the practice lance’s shaft along with a dozen other rings of various sizes and metals. He sat silently on Verhere’s back, staring at the rings for a long moment. The Slepna snorted and tossed his head, causing Autfreg to smile slightly. “Aye, again.” The pair turned and began walking back to the end of the training field again.
* * *
Isarlath struggled to keep her eyes open as she swayed back and forth on Sin Diob’s back. The pain was intense, the dull throbbing in her thigh hurt like hell, and she could see the swelling through her pants. She came within sight of the settlement, the other hunters flanking her, but slightly behind. Sin Diob had not appreciated anyone else anywhere near the lead.
They had three Slepna from the fields in tow, one of which was a juvenile, as well as Sin Diob. Isarlath led the begrudged Slepna towards the enclosures. Sin Diob stopped before the gates, nostrils wide, taking in the scents. He reared, causing Isarlath to fall prostrate on his back. The others moved to her, but Sin Diob grunted and pawed at them, warning them to stay away.
She shook her head, pushing up. “Don’t. I... I have to do this on my own.”
Mintak frowned. “You are obviously weakened. The moment you get off, he will kill you!”
“No... no he won’t.” She sighed, a tear falling down her cheek. The pain was nearly overwhelming, but she couldn’t succumb to it. She had to make it to the gate.
Swallowing, she slid off his back, the rope still firmly held in her hand. Sin Diob looked back at her, his eyes watching for any sign of weakness. She stood, resolute, and stared back.
“Isarlath?” Mintak looked at her concerned.
“I can’t move just yet. It hurts like hell. I mean the lowest of lower hells, hell.” She didn’t dare grimace while the Slepna watched her. “My leg feels like I am being repeatedly stabbed, burned and ripped... all at the same time.”
* * *
Autfreg slowed Verhere, frowning slightly as he noticed the group near the gate to the enclosures. The tamers had been out today, searching for Slepna to replace those lost to the chimera, no doubt. His eyes narrowed fractionally, recognizing Isarlath—Niscene’s granddaughter—among them. The pair moved towards the group at a slow walk, and Autfreg stared, his eyes widening, as he glanced between her and the Slepna she was leading. It was, well, it could only be, Sin Diob. No other Slepna was close to that size. Isarlath looked terrible. Autfreg’s lips twitch into the smallest of smiles. He supposed that going after the devil Slepna would do that to a person.
“Isarlath, for the love of the gods, let me do something!” Cordelia called from the other side.
“No!” Isarlath tightened her grip on the rope. “Gods, Cordelia. I show one stupid weakness and all this will be for naught. I didn’t sustain all these injuries to have one of you screw it up!”
“But...” both Cordelia and Mintak objected.
Autfreg grinned, now in hearing range of the dispute between the tamers. Verhere halted without prompting from his rider. Say what you would about Isarlath, the lady had guts.
Even though it hurt, she lifted an arm and made a gesture to shut up. Pain shot through her, but she gritted her teeth and pulled on the rope. “We walk, you monster. We walk and you will like it.”
By this time a small crowd had gathered to watch. She took a step and blanched, but she continued, step by step, to walk to the gate. Sin Diob pulled back in objection and Isarlath growled, pulling the rope roughly. The Slepna grunted and snorted, but complied. Battered, bruised and most likely broken, Isarlath walked. It was slow, but a part of her enjoyed it.
Verhere and Autfreg started forward at a slow walk, trailing behind Isarlath and Sin Diob and watching the slow progress to the stables. Autfreg rubbed Verhere’s neck gently, eliciting a wicker of appreciation from the Slepna. “Credit to her, I suppose, eh old friend?” Verhere snorted softly in apparent answer, but kept walking.
Screw all of you, damn it. My axe belongs in a few places you don’t want it. She nodded graciously, despite her thoughts, and led Sin Diob through the gate and to a stall. She leaned against him, both for support and to show him where to back into the stall. He looked at her, eyes still wild, and nipped her. Locking the stall gate, she stepped back and grinned. “I have you. They all thought I was insane, but I have you.”
Autfreg dismounted, leaving the reins looped around the horn of his saddle. He stood in the doorway of the stable with Verhere, watching silently.
She reached over into a bin and pulled out a sugar cube and a bag of oats. She poured the oats into his trough and opened her hand to give him the treat. He snuffled her palm and in one move, had her entire hand in his mouth, teeth resting on her wrist. His reminder that he had her.
She turned her wrist, dropping the treat on his tongue and withdrew her hand. Isarlath looked into his eyes, and shook her head. “You are no longer Sin Diob. You are SinMi. MY evil.” She backed away, their eyes still connected. She bowed, then turned to walk away. She looked up and saw Autfreg. Once she left the sight of SinMi, she began to collapse.
Autfreg stepped forward, catching Isarlath before she could fall to the ground. He glanced over her quickly. Verhere remained near the door, but Autfreg ignored the Slepna for now. One of the grooms would see to him, and Isarlath needed the help at the moment. “Well, I am impressed, daughter of the smiths, but he won’t be your evil very long if you don’t see a healer for that leg. At least. Looks like a bone bruise. I don’t think you’ll be riding much for the next few months.”
“Oh my gods, it hurts like hell. But I couldn’t admit it. Not in front of him. A wild Slepna knows.” She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. “I hope that a bone bruise is all it is... and I can’t stay off him. Not now...”
Autfreg shifted slowly, stooping and lifting Isarlath off the ground, one arm under her knees, and the other under her arms. “You get back on him like this and he will kill you. That’s all there is to it.”
Isarlath didn't object to Autfreg lifting her, as it relieved some of her pain. “You get the horses after I deal with them. You already have them broken. If I don’t get on him, I will be weak and he will kill me. Especially him. I am not losing him, Autfreg.” She laid her head back, tears finally falling. “We brought in four. One a juvenile. Exactly what we needed to replace those lost to the chimera. Gods, I need something to drink.”
“With respect, Isarlath, Verhere was broken when I got him, but I’m the one who put him back together into something that worked.” He carried her back into the settlement, heading for where the healers had their lodges. His voice was distant as he continued. “The chimera is dead, but we lost two Slepna today. And I could use a drink.”
“Wait... you insult my inability to turn what I tame into something workable, even after the time I spend with them, and follow it up with admitting that you lost two more?” Her voice rose slightly, causing her to flinch in pain.
“I did not lose anything, daughter of the smiths. The only Slepna I am responsible for is Verhere, unless I am on herd guard, and I was not.” Autfreg’s voice was brittle. “Terner is dead, and you’ll get to see Jerot once we reach the healers. If you want to ask someone, I suggest you talk to him, or perhaps you can speak with Terner’s wife.”
Isarlath squirmed, trying to get free. “If this is how you are going to be, then I will walk by myself to the healer. Don’t you DARE throw into my face that we lost someone. Don’t even go there, Autfreg. I would ask how the hell they died and the horses were lost, but I am not sure I am ready to stomach it. You still haven’t retracted your statement of insult towards my own skills. I bust my ass for you and the hunters. I bust it literally, and figuratively, and still manage to pull hunting duty like the other ‘warriors’.”
Autfreg’s eyes went blank, his gaze flinty as he held onto Isarlath, though the idea of simply dropping her was both appealing and convenient. He didn't acknowledge the first half of her objection. “Look me in the eye, Isarlath. Look me in the eye and tell me that you or anyone in this clan has done a better job training their mount. You think I’m insulting you? Hardly. I know what you do for the clan. But since you seem inclined to fight today, you think whatever you want to.”
Her eyes smoldered. “Yes, yes, taunt me, Autfreg. Taunt me with your ability to have a mount of your own to train. I hope you feel better now.” She looked away.
“Tamers do not have mounts for a reason, Isarlath. You know that as well as I do. Tell me something, what will Gellek say when he hears about your evil?”
“Gellek can kiss my bruised and broken ass.” Her eyes burned suddenly with a passion rarely seen. “No one else will be able to ride that Slepna. No one. A stallion like him comes around few and far between. And only the one that breaks him will ever be able to ride him, if he so deems it. He’s mine, and I will fight Gellek tooth and nail.”
“Verhere is all I need. You’re welcome to the creature. Gellek and the Council will have the final say, though.” Autfreg navigated his way through the outbuildings surrounding the settlement, heading for the healers’ quarters.
She looked away again, her voice quiet. “Then, I will leave.”
“You have a family here.”
“They don’t understand, Autfreg. They just don’t. If I had one of my own, one that is mine, it would be easier to do what they want me to do. But no one will listen.” She closed her eyes. “And then, perhaps, all of ‘your’ people will finally give me some respect and leave me alone.”
Autfreg turned slightly, shouldering the door to the healers’ lodge open. He moved inside, setting Isarlath down on an open cot gently. His voice was quiet, devoid of emotion. “I don’t have people, not anymore.” He straightened and turned to leave.
She opened her mouth to retort, but decided against it. Ikarna emerged and exhaled, exasperated. “Good lords, you look like you were strung through the bramble and trampled by a fleet.”
“Don’t start with me, mother.”
* * *
Jeanne watched carefully, her eyes catching every detail. She was on scout patrol, looking for anything, either helpful or alarming. Though she hadn’t slept in two days, she was alert. Her Slepna bristled at a shuffling up ahead. She patted its wide neck and urged it forward silently. If it was a monster, it had better say its prayers.
< Message edited by Master Samak -- 7/26/2011 21:51:29 >
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