CAIVANThe smell of burning thatch is thick in the air, and it still lingers on my coat if all traces of the inferno have vanished. Barely minutes ago, someone had set flames to Eldad. And I sit here, among the soft grass of the plateau, in the quiet peace of the morning sun, watching the last thick tendrils sail upwards, its black soul tarnishing the tranquil blue of the sky above.The wolf snarls something at me. I scoff quietly but I don't reply. I wouldn't know what to say, being half-wolven and all. The irony tugs at the back of my mind and I want to laugh again. I've been wanting to do so since the chaos that ensued yesterday. Since coming up here and finding the wolves had been killed in their sleep; how, I know not; but one had the sense to flee the attack. And he's been behind me since I found him nursing his wounds behind a particularly giant rewan tree near the creek, on one of many reconnaissance missions.He snarls at me again, and this time, I think he's asking what happ

CAIVANThere is a reason these back roads are not plied regularly, or at all, for the same reason the valley is called Delagad. They are not the safest to follow, especially not when winter is close, even if they are removed from clear sight. Gazens constitute a major part of my angst, however; one or two we can handle, but a herd? Lian; the name had come naturally to me, the Sneyan name for Lupion's forerunner, and he seems to like it; sniffs at a cluster of purple flowers beneath a large tree to my left. I'm about to point out that curali are not exactly nose-friendly when he sneezes violently, backing away from them with a snarl. 'Keep your nose to yourself,' I caution. Not that I should bother. This wolf is particularly bull-headed. I squint down the path that winds through the tress ahead of us like one giant snake, crossing my fingers with superstitious instinctiveness at the thought of the dreaded creature. I've only taken the back roads this far south once, and I had been wi

CAIVANI eye the bow in her grip with an old fear. There's something about the way she wields it that sets me off. Most wolvens are fast, usually quicker than weapons. Arrows seem to find that fact amusing and untrue. It's no wonder Gylen lost his eye to Cyran, though it would have to be close enough for him not to notice it on time. As this one is. Daena notices my uneasy stare and cocks her head. 'You don't like bows?' she asks. 'No,' I reply evenly, 'Just don't trust people that carry them about'. Camille makes a small noise, like she's stifling a snort. 'I saved your life back there,' Daena says, a little too quickly. 'I did not exactly call for one. Regardless, it looks to me like you two need my help more than I do yours,' I point out clearly, and she purses her lips in silent agreement. 'We told you everything, sir. We are not your enemies'. I find myself nodding quietly, because they are not, I realize. Not in the least. The blonde one keeps shooting glances behind us, down

RONNHe slowly lowers the crossbow when I finish talking, but that hard glint does not leave his eyes. Grey, like stone, like clouds before it rains. Like mine. 'Say you ain't one of them freaks, eh?' he asks in a funny, clipped accent. I can only guess where he's from, and it's not this far south. 'No, sir, I am not,' I reply with as much honesty as I can muster. He grunts. 'Well, I suppose there's room for one more,' he says, 'But I ain't going as far as the city. Gotta drop stuff off at Patrain. Still got a little way ahead, but then, these beasts are the best I seen'. He reaches down and pats them fondly. Great black geldings that seem to listen or respond to his touch only. I've never liked horses, and these ones are no exception. They snort or sway their great heads whenever they cross eyes with Sirgil. I turn back to their master as he speaks. 'Come along, master Rolenn. I reckon them clouds'll be upon us in a mo, and there's only so much we can cover in a few minutes'. I gri

SAELYNAIt's not exactly a village. Neither is it a hamlet. It certainly doesn't look like one. We climbed the slope when we found the pines, just when the first drops of rain came down on us. Sure enough, there were tendrils of smoke in the distance, and that's where we headed, while Dell insisted one keeping Elwyn in front.He was right. Sort of. It turned out to be a camp. And not just any camp.Outside the tent where we now eat, thunder utters its last threats as the rain reduces to nothing more than soft patters. Ryon hands me another piece of bread with a soft smile that I can't help returning. He looks to be an elder, I think, well into his mid-forties. His hair is a dark shade of blue that catches the light from the fireflies that hang above us, on every inch of the tent's roof. He has deep set blue eyes that are welcoming at most, above a straight nose and a small mouth, all placed in the middle of a perfectly round face. It's hard to feel uncomfortable around him.He had wel