small area of dirt and set the strange stone in the middle. With a wave of her hand, the stone glowed gently and exuded warmth that would keep them all comfortable throughout the night.
Polas shrugged and tossed his gathered sticks to the side. He removed his boots, selected a place at the edge of the stone’s glow to sit, and watched the suns as they hid themselves away beyond the horizon.
Flint struggled to set up a small tent, finally giving up and allowing Xandra to help him. She bowed to her teacher and Polas before entering the tent and preparing for sleep.
Kiff returned from relieving himself upstream a short time later. He looked over to Polas and nodded toward the east. The general shook his head, and Kiff shrugged as he stepped over the already sleeping Flint on his way to Xandra’s tent.
"Knock, knock," he said as he lifted the tent’s flap.
Inside, Xandra sat with legs crossed on a fur blanket, wearing only a light gown. She jerked the blanket up to her shoulders and scooted to the back edge of the small tent.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Save your spells," Kiff said. "I just wanted to say goodnight."
"Well," Xandra said, "goodnight."
Kiff ran his gloved fingers over the plush, white fur of Xandra’s blanket.
Her eyes flitted between Kiff, the tent’s opening, and the quarterstaff by her bed, and he knew that he needed to come up with worthwhile conversation quickly or find himself back outside on his rear.
"Is this Ampen fur?" Kiff asked.
"What? No! Why would anyone skin an Ampen?"
Kiff shrugged. "I guess because they’re soft?"
"That’s horrible."
"Yeah, really?" Kiff forced an uncomfortable laugh. "Who would do that?"
Xandra studied the Undlander behind the safety of her blanket. In Faldred culture, girls were not afforded the same type of education as the boys, so she, as a student of Flint the White-Handed, had grown up surrounded by only Faldred young men while the Faldred girls learned directly from their mothers. The boys were overly practical and very easy to read. Kiff was not. While she already knew she hated the annoying Undlander, a small part of her longed to see what he looked like beneath his mask.
"So," Kiff said, finally, "you think it will work?"
Xandra eyed him warily. "What are you talking about?"
"This whole ‘quest to restore Hope to Traesparin’ thing," he replied. "You think it will work?"
"Of course."
"Oh," Kiff said. He looked down at his hands for a moment before turning to leave. "It must be nice to be fearless."
Kiff left Xandra staring at the tent walls, thinking about how big her destiny really was.
Her tent felt very small that night, and the stars above it seemed far beyond her reach. As she drifted off to sleep, she wondered if maybe, just possibly, there was a chance that they might not win.
On a low hill less than a kallow away from the camp, five beings lay in the grass. They watched as the Undlander left the young girl’s tent and walked over toward the brook.
A sixth and seventh hunter stood holding their horses at the far side of the knoll. They were Dorokti of the Ginakti clan. This was their land, and no one crossed it freely.
Their leader, a raven-furred panther Dorokti called Kertyah, motioned the group back. His eyes glowed green in the darkness. He carried a longbow across his back and a curved dagger on his hip. His limbs were lithe, his muscles like thick cords, and he bore a scar that ran from his neck up to what had once been his ear.
The grass beneath them hardly rustled as they crept down the far side of the hill. Kertyah was the last to follow. After joining the others, he made several quick gestures with his hands. He made sure everyone knew the number of the prey, the amount of blades they carried, and that his team would attack before dawn.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Polas sat writing names in the dirt. As he wrote each name, he would stare at the jagged lines and smooth circles of the High Peltin language
Polas shrugged and tossed his gathered sticks to the side. He removed his boots, selected a place at the edge of the stone’s glow to sit, and watched the suns as they hid themselves away beyond the horizon.
Flint struggled to set up a small tent, finally giving up and allowing Xandra to help him. She bowed to her teacher and Polas before entering the tent and preparing for sleep.
Kiff returned from relieving himself upstream a short time later. He looked over to Polas and nodded toward the east. The general shook his head, and Kiff shrugged as he stepped over the already sleeping Flint on his way to Xandra’s tent.
"Knock, knock," he said as he lifted the tent’s flap.
Inside, Xandra sat with legs crossed on a fur blanket, wearing only a light gown. She jerked the blanket up to her shoulders and scooted to the back edge of the small tent.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Save your spells," Kiff said. "I just wanted to say goodnight."
"Well," Xandra said, "goodnight."
Kiff ran his gloved fingers over the plush, white fur of Xandra’s blanket.
Her eyes flitted between Kiff, the tent’s opening, and the quarterstaff by her bed, and he knew that he needed to come up with worthwhile conversation quickly or find himself back outside on his rear.
"Is this Ampen fur?" Kiff asked.
"What? No! Why would anyone skin an Ampen?"
Kiff shrugged. "I guess because they’re soft?"
"That’s horrible."
"Yeah, really?" Kiff forced an uncomfortable laugh. "Who would do that?"
Xandra studied the Undlander behind the safety of her blanket. In Faldred culture, girls were not afforded the same type of education as the boys, so she, as a student of Flint the White-Handed, had grown up surrounded by only Faldred young men while the Faldred girls learned directly from their mothers. The boys were overly practical and very easy to read. Kiff was not. While she already knew she hated the annoying Undlander, a small part of her longed to see what he looked like beneath his mask.
"So," Kiff said, finally, "you think it will work?"
Xandra eyed him warily. "What are you talking about?"
"This whole ‘quest to restore Hope to Traesparin’ thing," he replied. "You think it will work?"
"Of course."
"Oh," Kiff said. He looked down at his hands for a moment before turning to leave. "It must be nice to be fearless."
Kiff left Xandra staring at the tent walls, thinking about how big her destiny really was.
Her tent felt very small that night, and the stars above it seemed far beyond her reach. As she drifted off to sleep, she wondered if maybe, just possibly, there was a chance that they might not win.
On a low hill less than a kallow away from the camp, five beings lay in the grass. They watched as the Undlander left the young girl’s tent and walked over toward the brook.
A sixth and seventh hunter stood holding their horses at the far side of the knoll. They were Dorokti of the Ginakti clan. This was their land, and no one crossed it freely.
Their leader, a raven-furred panther Dorokti called Kertyah, motioned the group back. His eyes glowed green in the darkness. He carried a longbow across his back and a curved dagger on his hip. His limbs were lithe, his muscles like thick cords, and he bore a scar that ran from his neck up to what had once been his ear.
The grass beneath them hardly rustled as they crept down the far side of the hill. Kertyah was the last to follow. After joining the others, he made several quick gestures with his hands. He made sure everyone knew the number of the prey, the amount of blades they carried, and that his team would attack before dawn.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Polas sat writing names in the dirt. As he wrote each name, he would stare at the jagged lines and smooth circles of the High Peltin language
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