FSE

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Chapter 1

Eridan's legs dangled from the roof of the local smithy as he enjoyed the piece of bread he had procured. It wasn't the best the village of Harkin's Rest had to offer, but it satisfied his hunger for the moment. It was a shame that Granny Olra hadn't made any of her famous honey-clover rolls, but seeing as he lacked the funds to acquire those sweet delicacies, he would have had to have waited anyways. He would never steal from Granny, no one in Harkin's Rest would.

An easterly breeze came down from the hills as it swept through Harkin's Rest. Eridan's right ear flopped in the wind, unable to be supported. After the breeze passed, Eridan returned the ear to behind his head as he tried to repair the damage the breeze had done to his brown hair. Not exactly long enough to pull back into a queue; Eridan had to deal with his hair being pulled this way and that, completely at the mercy of the wind.

As the last bit of bread disappeared into his mouth, one of his ears caught a familiar sound. With a sigh and a twirl of a dagger before returning it to it's sheathe attached to his left leg, Eridan pushed himself off the smithy roof. Falling the twenty feet to the hard ground below was not a problem for Eridan as his lapin legs easily absorbed the force as he hopped away a few steps to dissipate the energy from the drop.

A few villagers looked at him with disdain before returning to their business. Eridan shrugged. He knew the village had no love for him. Walking off in the direction of the sound, Eridan placed his hands behind his head as his long, bushy wolf tail swung from side to side.

Half breeds in Saldova were not an uncommon sight. Newborns always were of the race the mother was with some added features from the father's race. Such joinings, while, for the most part, were not frowned upon, the furs that choose to join with a lupin were often scorned. It had been twenty years since the Full Moon War ended and the lupin clans of the Far Weald were pushed back into their territories, but many furs of Saldova could not forgive the crimes that were committed.

Many lupin who wished to escape the Far Weald were met with open suspicions that on occasion boiled over into outright hostility. Furs who wished to join with lupin out of the Far Weald faced equal persecution. Many furs believed it to be an act of betrayal to take on a lupin mate, and those who acted upon those beliefs usually brought about more chaos than they realized. Such chaos claimed the lives of Eridan's parents.

Eridan shook his head. There was no time to be thinking of past thoughts. It did him no good to curse his luck and his parentage so he returned to the matter at hand. It had taken him many years to get used to the open disdain of the people of Harkin's Rest. A small, peaceful village in the middle of nowhere would have been ripe for pillaging during the war and the fact that Eridan was part lupin didn't help with his reputation.

Passing by a window of the local general store, Eridan stopped when he noticed a reflective surface located inside. Facing the mirror, he turned this way and that as he admired himself in the mirror.

He wasn't half bad for a lapin. His hair was a light brownish color that rested shoulder length. His eyes burned a light shade of blue that caused many people to believe that his eyes were brighter than normal. His fur was of a beige color with the top of a black mark peeking through the top of his leather armor where his heart would have been.

His leather armor hugged against his compact body, the result of heavy training instructed by Nimeric over the past several years. As a member of the village's militia, Eridan had to be prepared for the worst, should such ever come to pass. His favorite dagger was secured in the sheathe that sat buckled onto the left side of his belt while his emergency dagger was strapped to his left leg.

By no means was he the best fighter the militia had to offer, Eridan did know his way around a blade more so than most of the village. Growing up in the city of Eldais as a street urchin, Eridan had to fight to survive. At his current age of nineteen winters, Eridan had killed his fair share of thugs that tried to take advantage of him as he grew up. When the city of Eldais grew to be unwelcome, Eridan decided to travel in Harkin's Rest where an aunt and uncle resided. Surprised at the arrival of their half-lupin nephew, Lilia and Boris Arcost were less than thrilled to have him around.

After a month of constant bickering, Eridan sought out his own place. As a half-lupin, housing was difficult to come by and had Nimeric not convinced him to join the village militia, Eridan would have most likely left and tried his luck elsewhere. Despite only being there for a month, he had come to love the peace and quiet Harkin's Rest offered. It beat the dangerous streets of a city any day.

That sound rang in his ears again as he rolled his eyes. Nimeric was calling a meeting of the militia, one of Eridan's least favorite things to do. It wasn't that he hated going to these meetings, in fact he loved the whole strategy sessions and drills that were discussed, he just hated being around the people. While it was no secret that many in the village would have preferred he leave, his 'companions' in the militia took every opportunity they could to ridicule him on anything he did wrong during his patrols.

Taking one final glance at the mirror, Eridan continued on his way. Passing through the small, yet often crowded market square of Harkin's Rest always made Eridan smile. An accomplished pickpocket, he couldn't help but notice how many unknowing marks could have been lifted of all their coin. Yet, he always controlled his paws. It was the reason he met Nimeric and was convinced to join the militia in the first place. You don't pick the pocket of the village's militia captain and think you can get away with it.

The market was always an interesting place for Eridan. While the village may have had no love for him, he always found merchants willing to converse with him as he asked about the surrounding areas so long as he bought something in the end. He had met many different types of furs and met an equally many personalities, and, if it there was anything to miss about Eldais, it was that it was an epicenter of culture.

Growing up a half-breed, particularly a lupin half-breed, Eridan always felt out of place. Visiting the historical museums, conversing with the sailors that arrived at the docks, talking to merchants about their caravan routes, anything that allowed Eridan's mind to wander to those far off places helped him grow up to see a bigger picture. He just wished that people were a little more tolerant of his background.

Eridan crossed the market square, being careful to avoid the bread stall and its owner. While he always paid for the bread he stole after receiving his weekly stipend, the stall owner was never pleased to have Eridan stealing from his stall. Had not Nimeric made sure Eridan paid what he owed to the owner, Eridan would have been in the stocks for often than not.

Despite his service to the village militia, the villagers hastily gave Eridan a wide berth as he made his way down one of the main avenues leading to the eastern edge of the village. Stopping for a moment to address a monument dedicated to a fallen hero during the Full Moon War, Eridan wondered what it must be like to be immortalized in the form of a marble statue. He didn't know the name of the hero nor did he care to learn it. All he knew was that the hero was a procyon from the village.

With a shrug, he resumed his walk as he rested his left palm on the pommel of his dagger. Harkin's Rest wasn't that bad of a village. Despite its intolerant and less-than-understanding citizens, Eridan liked the place. It was such a shame that he had to spend his days doing patrols for the militia.

Finally arriving at the two story brick house that doubled both as the militia headquarters and the village's jail, Eridan stopped for the moment as his ears picked up various sounds coming from inside. He could hear the sounds of a scuffle and didn't doubt that Vargas Tolben had once again picked a fight with one of the junior members of the militia. A leonin of renown around the village, Vargas helped defend the village against bandits, oldgerns, and general nuisances that tried to prey upon the village.

Outside on the balcony of the building, Eridan saw one of the militia's three weavers, Seira Riddel, a vulpin and an aeromancer from the village of Tonkonnie, weaving the signal call for all militiamen to report in. Upon seeing Eridan watching her, Seira turned her nose in the air and proceeded through the door that led from the balcony. Eridan spit on the ground. It was typical that his lupin heritage would generate such contempt.

Unbuckling the straps that held his daggers in place, Eridan strolled through the front door and made his way to his usual spot for these meetings. Situating himself in the farthest corner of the room where he could see anybody coming from any direction and where he had a clear view of Nimeric as he went on about the current duties that needed to be done, Eridan leaned up against the wall and crossed his arms. He didn't like being in an enclosed building with a bunch of people that couldn't stand him.

As militiaman after militiaman filed into the room, Eridan spotted Vargas sporting a grin as he and his two lackeys, a lapin and a procyon, made their way towards the front of the room. Before sitting down, Vargas began searching the room before his eyes locked with Eridan's. It was no secret that Vargas despised Eridan. As a lupine half-breed, Eridan's existence was one that needed to be extinguished in Vargas's eyes.

As a scion of the Tolben house, it was Vargas's duty to follow the decree of his house that no lupin should walk outside the Far Weald. Taking the decree to the most extreme, Vargas assaulted many lupin, male, female, and child, before his house had to send him away to some back water village as punishment for taking the decree "too far". Instead, Vargas relished in the opportunity to make a name for himself by "aiding" those less fortunate. He loved it even more after he arrived to find a half-lupin living in the village.

Had not Nimeric been there that night Eridan ran into Vargas and his cronies, Eridan would most likely not be among the living. It was afterwards that Vargas joined the militia so as to humiliate Eridan every chance he could get. And he pretty much succeeded. Skilled in armed combat, Vargas and his lackeys became local celebrities in the town, and used such reputation to target Eridan for ridicule. It was easy to say that two of them didn't get along. Luckily for Eridan, he had yet to cross blades with the ferocious leonin, but he knew the day would come eventually.

Eridan thought about it for a moment and wondered if Nimeric would somehow interfere. The roden militia captain always seemed to pull Eridan's tail out of the fire at every ill-conceived moment that Eridan began to wonder if Nimeric was some guardian spirit given a physical body.

Eridan watched as a new recruit, another leonin, walked in through the doors, his left eye black and swollen shut with dried blood caked around his muzzle. It wasn't hard to tell that he was the one that got in a scuffle with Vargas. As leonin were rather territorial, it wasn't surprising that Vargas had to assert his dominance over the new recruit. Though, Eridan thought, the black eye and bloody muzzle may have been a bit too far.

Eridan returned his gaze towards the front of the room. He didn't care what these other militiamen did to each other as so long as none of them bothered him. He just wished this meeting would be over so he could go back to patrolling the bread stands.

It wasn't long before Nimeric entered the room and made his way towards the front. An equin placed Nimeric's box on the ground in the front of the room so that Nimeric would be capable of seeing everyone in the room.

Nimeric cleared his throat before starting. "I'm glad you all were able to make it at such short notice, but we have problems." Nimeric began as he looked around the room, his sandy voice not exactly fitting the diminutive stature of his race. "I'm sure some of you may have heard that a few villagers have disappeared within these last few days as they ventured into the Voldane Wood."

"Goodsir Torel and Goodlady Reifal, if I remember correctly," said Lier Forstan, a procyon female who was also the militia's aquamancer.

"Thank you, Lier," Nimeric thanked before staring down Vargas who had begun whistling. Everyone knew Vargas wanted to bed Lier, but she wasn't in agreement. "Quiet, Vargas, or you'll be patrolling the southern vale for the next few days."

Vargas sneered as he flicked his nose with his left thumb. He sat back and draped both his arms over the back of his chair as he spread his legs, giving a clear image of what he wanted Nimeric to do. Quicker than anyone was able to keep see, a knife had appeared in the wooden chair between Vargas' legs. Vargas withdrew the knife, licked it, and added it to a collection he kept around his boots.

"You're lucky I just don't hack that off. I wouldn't want your lackeys to be left wanting," Nimeric said as a paw hovered near his rapier. Vargas scowled as he dismissed the taunt with a wave of his hand. His hand backing away from his rapier, Nimeric crossed his hands in front of him before proceeding, "Things are getting serious. A visiting child en route from Eldais has been reported missing. The child was supposed to have been in the village two days ago."

The militia all began asking questions at once. Even Vargas, despite his apparent lack of care for others, seemed a little taken aback. "Who's the child?" he asked, his voice easily overcoming the torrent of sound in the room.

"Altera Olra, Granny Olra's great-granddaughter," Nimeric answered. Everyone in the room fell silent. As the oldest fur in the village, Granny Olra commanded a lot of respect from not only the residents of Harkin's Rest, but from many noble houses across Saldova. "I will be splitting you all into three man squads to venture into the woods to try and locate these missing furs. You all know what's at stake."

Everyone nodded. Everyone knew that the Olra family was the founding family of Harkin's Rest. A family as pure as a mithril vein, the Olra family could trace their lineage back to the days of the Elder Wars, nearly four hundred years ago. While not a family of nobility, the Olras were renowned in producing some of most proficient weavers the people of Saldova had ever witnessed. A family consisting of a pure lapin bloodline, the Olras commanded a lot of respect, both in and out the Purity movement.

Despite bearing the Olra family name, Granny Olra never showed any hints of being able to weave. Instead, her weaving gifts consisted of weaving together dough to create intricate baked goods. She was the best baker in the village of Harkin's Rest. While her and those of her line that resided in Harkin's Point bore no hints of weaving, that still did not diminish the weight behind the Olra name.

"So that must be the reason Granny hasn't been selling any of her bread these last couple days," Eridan said to himself. Scratching his chin, Eridan was already trying to figure out routes that led from Eldais to here. He remembered taking various shortcuts through the woods to try and avoid the main road.

Not wanting to be anywhere near the front of the room, the leonin that fought with Vargas had taken to sulk on the ground next to Eridan. His ears perked up when he heard Eridan mumbling to himself. Turning to regard the half-breed, the leonin spoke up, "Ye alright, friend?"

Eridan was shaken from his thoughts as he looked around. He could've sworn someone said something to him, but he wasn't sure. No one ever spoke to him during these meetings. His eyes eventually fell on the leonin sitting on the floor. "Did you ask something of me?" Eridan asked, his right eyebrow lifted, confused at the fact someone had deigned to talk to him.

"Aye, tha' I did," the leonin replied as he stood up, brushing off any accumulated dirt and dust that gripped at his clothes, "Though' ye migh' be losing them marbles in yer head." The leonin reached out with his left paw, "Name's Bartir."

Eridan, still quite confused, looked down at the extended paw and back to Bartir. Bartir was nearly a head and a half taller than he was and his extended paw could easily envelop the entirety of his face. Typical of a leonin, Bartir was big and muscular, more than likely quite capable of wrestling with an oldgern. Bartir sported brown eyes and the typical fur coloring that most leonin shared. One of the more interesting things was that Bartir didn't sport a full mane like most male leonins. His looked to have been purposefully cut short.

"Eridan," he replied, not reaching out to grab the other's paw. "And I was not losing any marbles; I was just trying to think."

"Abou' wha'?" Bartir asked as he leaned against the wall next to Eridan, trying to clean off the blood that caked his muzzle.

Eridan gave Bartir one final look before he turned back to the front and sighed. This one wasn't going to leave him alone. "About the various paths that could lead from Eldais to Harkin's Rest. I am originally from Eldais so I know of a few paths that could be taken. Why do you presume to care?"

"Because I believe the captain jus' paired us up, friend," Bartir said as he pushed himself off the wall, paw extended to greet the apparent third of their squad, a female procyon named Tayla Odile. "Bartir and Eridan, love," Bartir greeted as he took hold of the female procyon's hand.

Eridan rolled his eyes. Not only did he get stuck working with two people, he got stuck with a sappy leonin and a by-the-books procyon. What could Nimeric possibly be thinking?

Eridan looked Tayla over and saw nothing special. She was a typical procyon from the village and one of the three weavers in the militia. Not too tall, not too short, average weight with a smaller bust size than most of the women her age. She wore her black hair long and braided down the center of her back. Her green eyes showed an interest in the world around her. She wore simple travelling clothes as armor hindered her weaving abilities.

"I'm thinking you don't approve?" came a voice from behind Tayla.

Hearing the voice of the captain, Tayla and Bartir spun about and saluted the captain. Eridan just averted his gaze to something outside of a nearby window. He hated how the captain always seemed to know what he was thinking.

"Who doesn't approve of what?" Tayla asked as she adjusted the lenses that sat on her nose.

"I'm thinkin' friend Eridan does no' wish to be a part o' the group," Bartir answered, a smile slowly creeping across his face.

"Why did you team me up with these two, Nim?" Eridan asked as he pushed himself off the wall to join his new teammates with the captain. "You know perfectly well I am capable of handling things myself."

"Stow it, Eridan!" Nimeric chastened. His roden tail flicked this way and that in agitation. "I believe something is amiss and I will not have any militiaman traveling out in the wood by themselves."

Bartir cocked his head to the side as he looked down at the diminutive captain. "Like wha'? Wha' out here could be more dangerous than an oldgern? Especially 'round here?"

Tayla adjusted her glasses. "Well, to answer your question, Bartir, the mountains to the north of here used to be home to wyverns. And before Harkin's Rest was founded, monstrous spiders used to inhabit the wood."

"Keywords: used to," Bartir returned as put a palm up to his forehead. "I can' think o' anything else besides an oldgern o' maybe some really coordina'ed highwaymen."

"I don't know what could be causing this, but that's why I'm splitting you all into squads. Strength in numbers," Nimeric explained.

"Or death in inexperience," Eridan spout as he looked each of his partners in the eye. "I've braved the wood on my travels here from Eldais when I was fifteen. The wood is not a safe place, particularly the northern reaches of it. You look as green as they come, Bartir, and Tayla, I've never heard of you ever being in a fight, preferring to patrol the town instead."

Bartir growled as Tayla turned away. "Wai' jus' a momen', Eridan, before ye get knocked on ye head! Where do ye ge' the gall to speak o' ye teammates like that?"

"I grew up in the alleys of Eldais where my life was on the line every day. I had to use what wits I had. I didn't have a leonin's strength or a weaver's elemancy," Eridan retorted.

"Quit arguing, the both of ya," Nimeric said he drew his rapier and nicked both of the arguing militiamen in the hand. Eridan dismissed the pain with a flick of his hand. He was used to it. Bartir, the new recruit that he was, turned to growl at the captain, who growled back. Recognizing his mistake, Bartir cleared his throat and hung his head.

"Why the three of us? I'm quite sure that you've reasons for the way the squads turned out," Tayla asked as she glimpsed around the room.

Nimeric shrugged. "Not really. Eridan and Bartir here were the furthest in the back so they were going to be grouped anyway. And seeing as Bartir is new and Eridan is hot-headed, I figured they needed a level-headed and intelligent leader."

Both Eridan and Bartir looked at each other than at Tayla. Nimeric's hand cut through the air to silence any sort of complaints from the two of them. "She's your leader. That's final. Now get ready, the three of you are going out west towards Dryber's Clearing. Maybe you guys can find something, especially you, Eridan, since that was the area you came through, wasn't it?"

Eridan rolled his eyes as he followed Tayla and Bartir outside. The two of them didn't have the slightest clue how dangerous the wood between Eldais and Harkin's Rest was. The thought came to him the moment he thought of it. Eridan shook his head as he realized that the reason he was paired up with these two was due to his experience with the western wood. Death in inexperience. So much for the relative safety of patrolling the bread stalls.

The sun was at it's peak as the three of them stood outside as they watched the rest of the militia take off in different directions. Eridan watched as Vargas and his two lackeys made their way in the direction of the west gate. Both of their eyes met as Vargas sneered as he drew a line across his throat with his thumb. Eridan stared back, unflinching and unblinking. Except for that first beating Eridan had received at Vargas' hand, Vargas had yet to try anything physical against him. Considering they were most likely going to be in the same area, Eridan didn't put it past Vargas to try something in the field these next several days.

Tayla had watched the silent exchange between the two with a worried look. She knew of Vargas's hatred for Eridan. She was the one who healed an unconscious Eridan the night Vargas had first shown up in Harkin's Rest. She and Nimeric knew that one day the two would clash blades and one would not walk away alive.

She had known of the lapin for a few years, but never really spoke to him. Eridan kept to himself and was only ever in sight of the other militia during meetings. An abrasive fur with an uncaring personality, Tayla did see soft sides here and there whenever she patrolled the village, particularly during his animated talks with visiting merchants. In fact, one of her favorite moments was when she had overheard a debate in which he argued for the taste of some far off cities unnatural food compared to what a merchant was selling from the town of Tonkonnie.

Bartir had noticed Tayla chuckling to herself and Eridan's eyes were still locked with Vargas'. Bartir sighed as he extended his index digits and poked the two furs exceptionally hard. Eridan's eyes stared daggers at him as he rubbed the offended area of his arm. Tayla apologized as she fixed her glasses. "We need to ge' movin'," Bartir stated as he looked at the other groups. "Don' wan' to be lef' in the dir', do we?"

Eridan rub the back of his head. Bartir was right. They had a job to do. "Dryber's Clearing is two day's walk from here via the main road. We'll be there in a day with my shortcut but we need to travel light. Meaning no bags full of books to read," Eridan said as he looked at Tayla. He had seen her on her patrols. She always had a bag full of books with her wherever she went.

Tayla was about to object when she realized there was no point to. She was going out into the Voldane Wood, an area she had no experience in. If Eridan was able to get them quicker to their destination, she would follow his lead.

"Dryber's Clearing. What is i'?" Bartir asked as he motioned with his head in the direction of the west gate.

Eridan shrugged. "Hells if I know. When I went through the place when I was younger, it was just a clearing in the wood with a lone tree in the very center of it. It gave me the shivers to the point I didn't want to near. Tayla probably knows about the local legends surrounding it. She is from here, after all," Eridan offered.

Tayla closed her eyes as she walked. She always seemed to remember things better when she closed her eyes. "I remember hearing a story from Granny Olra when I used to visit her bakery when I was a child. Granny Olra said that shortly after the village was established, a terramancer of considerable skill came to live on the outskirts of town, deep in the Voldane Wood. No one knew of the race or gender of the terramancer due to the enormous amount of robes the person wore nor did they know a name. The terramancer left everyone alone save for the rare times he entered the village for supplies."

Tayla felt a hand on her right shoulder, forcing her to stop. Opening her eyes, she saw Bartir had stopped her from walking into a wooden fence. "Sorry," she apologized, looking away in embarrassment. "Closing my eyes helps me remember things better."

"Don' worry abou' i'!" Bartir said with a smile.

Eridan nodded his head in the direction of some benches before leading the way. While she may have no battle experience, she was still a weaver. He didn't need her walking into objects and maybe hurt herself. Potentially hurt herself. He shook his head. Who was he kidding? Everyone in the village knew Tayla had an issue when it came to running into things. At least, he now knew why she did.

Tayla sat down on the bench. Shutting her eyes, she inhaled a breath of air as she heard Bartir sit down next to her. "One day, however," she continued, "during the Harvest Festival, attracted by the smell of the food that was being cooked, a pack of oldgern appeared from out of the woods. Being only recently established, the village had no defenses prepared and many of the villagers fled for their lives.

"A few brave furs stayed to give those who ran time to get away, but it was hopeless. A single oldgern for a group of furs is dangerous without a weaver. A pack of them without a weaver is suicide. All who chose to stay knew that and were prepared for it. That is, until the first oldgern was lifted off the ground by a hand made out of earth.

"Stepping from out of the shadows of a building, the reclusive terramancer was in the midst of weaving as the earth began to move this way and that, completely under the terramancer's control. Inspired by this new and unexpected arrival who was completely handling the oldgern so thoroughly, the villagers that stayed joined the assault.

"The oldgerns that survived the assault retreated back into the woods, but not before leaving their mark. The terramancer had suffered a grievous wound from a poisonous barb. Instead of waiting for help, the terramancer limped off after the oldgerns, knowing full well they would be back. Granny had said that lone villager followed after the terramancer to make sure the fur was alright and to provide whatever help they could. The villager was gone for nearly four days before he returned, carrying the remnants of the robes the terramancer had worn the night of the battle.

"According to the villager, the terramancer chased the oldgerns to a part of the wood before the terramancer unleashed a weaving so powerful all the trees in the area shattered into a thousand pieces. Only one lone tree stood in the middle of the now empty clearing with the terramancer resting against the trunk. The villager did what he could, but it was no use. The terramancer died that day, but not before leaving a message to be passed on:

"'This is Dryber home,' the terramancer had said, 'Dryber gladly give Dryber life to defend her now and for generations to come. Oldgern will fear coming around the village for Dryber left Dryber's mark. Dryber sorry Dryber never visited much, but Dryber hopes the village will remember Dryber.'" Tayla said as she finished. Opening her eyes, she saw both her companions, Eridan in particular, wide-eyed in amazement.

Eridan looked away as he remembered the size of the clearing. Dryber's Clearing was bigger than the whole village, and while he had never fought against an oldgern, he knew they weren't exactly small. "How was he able to weave the trees into exploding?" Eridan asked as he looked back towards Tayla. "I've never heard of such a thing being possible."

"Elemancy is broken into four main categories: Pyromancy, terramancy, aquamancy, and aeromancy. Each of the four has another level to it only reached by those of considerable skill and power. Arbormancy is the step above terramancy."

"Elemancy sounds complica'ed," Bartir said with a sigh.

Eridan raised his hand as he saw Tayla about to speak. They didn't have time to get into a discussion about the intricacies of elemancy. Eridan didn't think Bartir would be able to understand any of it anyways. "We don't have time for this kind of discussion. If you would like to know about elemancy, wait until we have found the child first and have made it back to the village."

Bartir dismissed his question with a shrug. No point in arguing with the lapin. "Then I suggest we ge' some supplies 'fore we head ou'," Bartir offered.

Tayla and Eridan nodded in agreement before the group went about their tasks. Bartir couldn't help but look after Eridan as he walked away. He couldn't help but wonder if Eridan was always like that.

"More than you will ever know," said Tayla's voice from next to him.

Bartir turned to regard his companion, his right eyebrow cocked. "You read me mind."

Tayla sighed. "Everyone has that reaction when they first meet him. He's not exactly the easiest person to get along with." Tayla began walking towards the center of town where all the food stalls were located, Bartir beside her. "I think it is a defense to cope with his mixed heritage. Lupins are not exactly liked in Saldova."

Bartir shook his head. "Back in Runan, a fur is judged by his or her actions, no' his o' her blood."

"This is not Runan, Bartir," Tayla reminded as she shook her head. "The lands of the leonin weren't threatened as Saldova was. Prejudice runs deep here, and while the sins of the parents do not pass to their children, people here tend to forget that."

"Well, then," Bartir said aloud with a smile, "I guess I've 'o show him Runan friendship then!" Bartir turned to Tayla, the smile never leaving his face. "And I guess you be in agreemen'!" he exclaimed when he saw her smile after trying to fight it.

Tayla shook her head as she burst into a small laugh. Bartir was for different than Vargas, the only other leonin she had ever met. Maybe with his contagious enthusiasm, the both of them could do something for Eridan, show him that not everybody will judge him because he's a half-lupin.

However, she tucked the thoughts away. Right now, all that mattered was getting Altera Olra back to the village, safe and sound. With her elemancy, Bartir's strength, and Eridan's knowledge of the Voldane Wood, the three of them just might be able to get this mission down.