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Description
Part 4
Darien and Savannah padded out of the forest and back onto the road, following the dusty trail of hoof prints in the dirt. Darien walked with a long and quick gait, making it a bit of a bear for Savannah to keep her pace with him.
They turned around a bend in the trail, and Darien came to a sudden halt, his paw stealing to his sword. Down the path a bit, a pair of wolf riders were lounging under some trees, sharing in a cask of wine that was strapped to the back of a mule. Darien growled deeply, seeing his father’s mark on the side of that mule, even from where he stood. The riders didn’t appear to notice Darien or Savannah, not even as Darien padded up to their encampment.
“Where did you get that animal?” Darien asked calmly and quietly, gesturing with his head to the mule.
Finally taking notice, one of the riders, obviously drunk off his keel, laughed and smirked up at the fox. “We got tha,” He gestured with his head to the mule. “At a farm ‘bout a evening’s journey tha way.” He gestured widely with his arm, pointing to a place on the horizon somewhere between where the sun rises and sets.
Darien turned to the mule, giving its neck a pat. “It’s a good animal. I’m sure it cost you quite a bit.”
Both the riders started to laugh, the drunker of the two falling over and rolling around in his mirth.
Darien turned back to the riders, faking a face of curiosity. “So you didn’t pay for it?”
The more sober of the two riders smirked at Darien. “What Lord Lavorre’s men want, they can take, kit.”
Darien frowned, “I don’t suppose the farmer much liked that idea.”
Both men laughed harder, the drunker of the two spilling his drink on his tunic. “Who cares? That pitiful sod was taken prisoner and me and Malcolm here torched the house!” The drunk one slapped his companion heartily on the back, succeeding in dumping his friend’s drink on his tunic.
Darien smiled, rubbing the mule’s neck gently. “Would they be camped near here? I have unfinished business with that farmer.”
The riders seemed to ignore this, the more sober chastising his partner for dumping a perfectly good glass of wine on his tunic, while his friend poured himself another round. Finally the sober one looked to Darien’s side, his eyes being caught by the sword at his side. “What’ve you got there, kit?”
Darien smiled wickedly. “Trouble.”
The drunk staggered to his footpaws, weaving precariously as he stood. “Let me see it, kit… I like trouble.” He snickered, shooting a grin to his partner comparative to a cub sliding a cooling pie from a windowsill and thinking he’d already stolen the world.
“No.” Darien smiled from under his eyebrows at the man. “Not until you tell me where the rest are camped.”
The drunk didn’t much like being told what he could and could not have, even if it was not his decision about it. He lurched forward, making a slow grab at Darien’s sword. “Arrrgh! ‘and it over, kit!” He growled, stumbling and all but falling back to the ground.
Darien simply stepped aside, letting the paw find only air. “No.” His paw went to the handle of his sword.
The drunk’s friend had by now made his way to his footpaws, and was pulling clumsily on his blade, trying to free it from its sheath. “You bloody well ‘ad better ‘and that over!” He made another pull on his sword, succeeding in drawing it from the sheath, as well as throwing it off to the side.
Darien smiled, watching and waiting for the two wolves to collect themselves. He wasn’t in a good mood, really, but the scene that the two riders were providing was comical enough even to make him laugh.
Savannah padded up from behind, growling deep in her throat. She brought both of the reeling wolves down, one with a knee to the face, and the other with a swing of her paw and stood over them, daggers drawn. “Where?” She glared at the fallen riders, turning a dagger in her paw to throw.
The wolves glared back insolently, both remaining silent.
Without hesitation, Savannah threw her dagger, sticking it into the ground between the drunker of the two’s ears. He gave her a look one might reserve for death, and the growing darkness in the crotch of his trousers told that Savannah had more than made her point. “Tha way…” He pointed to the north, beyond the wheat fields of Fallwood.
Savannah smiled, sliding her dagger back to its sheath. “Thank you.” She put her footpaw on the drunk’s neck, and pulled her dagger from between his ears.
The other rider slid forward slightly, drawing a dagger of his own from his back. He lunged clumsily at Savannah, going to take her by the throat with his blade, instead finding the point of Darien’s sword pressed firmly in his chest. “Down boy.” Darien gave the drunken rider a grin and pushed the wolf back down to the ground with his sword-tip.
“What should we do with them?” Savannah leaned over and whispered to Darien.
Darien glanced from the riders to his father’s mule, then back again, a smile forming on his face.
He turned back to the riders. “Take off your clothes.”

* * * * *

Darien and Savannah rode to the north, taking the horses left by the riders. From behind the two drunks yelled to them, muffled by the cloth tied on their muzzles and struggling with bonds made from their own clothing.
Savannah was laughing so hard Darien had to reach across and steady her from time to time to prevent the vixen from falling off her mount. “I can’t believe we did that!” She continued to laugh, tears of mirth rolling down her cheeks.
“That’s not even the worst part.” Darien threw her a lighthearted grin. “I fastened them to that empty barrel… The next time someone opens the floodgates to water that field, those two will be getting a firsthand tour of Fallwood.” Darien laughed, in spite of himself.
Savannah began to go into spasms of laughter, until she was gasping for breath.
Darien watched for a moment, and then his smile began to fade, reality setting in over the good humor of the moment. He silently urged his horse to move a bit faster, mind setting in on the task at hand.

* * * * *

Lavorre fumed, stalking about the encampment, his glare falling on all who dared cross his path. The soldiers shrank back from his scowling eyes, doing their best to remain clothed in shadows when Lavorre grew near.
“Captain!!” Lavorre shouted, causing a number of ears to wilt in terror. An immaculately clad wolf stepped from the shadows of a nearby tent, his tail curled down submissively. “Yes, m’lord.”
“For your sake, I should hope that our late patrol does not see fit to delay our departure for too much longer.” Lavorre scowled at the wolf, causing an uncontrollable chill to pass through the other fur’s body.
“No, m’lord.” The wolf bowed stiffly. “I’ll find them myself, if need be.”
Lavorre smiled, a small growl pushing from his throat despite. “Oh… need be, Captain. You will find those two idiots, then you will rendezvous with us at Cortain.” His glare followed the quickly retreating fur. “… And be quick about it!” He roared after, causing the wolf to break into a near run to his horse, then off into the thick brush. A complement of 5 soldiers followed quickly after, trying to keep pace with their fleeing leader.
Lavorre watched the soldiers vanish into the trees, distain clearly written over his face. “Bloody idiots…” He muttered, another growl pushing its way up his throat. With a dismissing grunt, he turned back to the remaining soldiers, who had come from the safety of the shadows, seeing that Lavorre’s anger had found a focus.
“Pack it up. We’re returning back to the castle.” Lavorre drew his gaze over the soldiers as he walked, heading for his tent. Hardly had the words passed from his muzzle, than the soldiers began to set about their tasks, hurriedly packing the tents and equipment for the journey home.
Two bound and blindfolded figures were led to their horse, and secured for the long journey back.

* * * * *

“Hell…. BLOODY hell…” The captain growled in disgust, his immaculate cloak finding yet another hang-up in the dense foliage. From behind came a chorus of muted snickers and chuckles, as his less extravagantly dressed soldiers managed the underbrush easily. A scowling glare silenced the lot of them, drawing their taunting half-smiles back into the serious gazes of well trained and battle ready men. Finally, the captain gave up, leaving his cloak hanging in the gentle embrace of a spruce, the fine fabric too entangled to remove without cutting.
The captain growled to himself, both frustrated and angry, even more so that he had nothing to take it out on. He stomped on, leading his men through the dense trees, the last of the group blowing the return for the patrol on his horn. There was no reply, not even a sad mimic by a passing minstrel, or a mischievous village boy.
The day wore on, and they continued to search, finally marching right back to the gates of Fallwood. The men were all complaining amongst themselves, having walked for most of the day in full battle gear without rest. The captain silenced them with a glare, silently turning and entering the town.
The scene that awaited the troops was one of almost carnival atmosphere. The entire village was gathered around the irrigation stream in the town square. Flags flew, and people laughed, sneered and cheered loudly, as if there were a man in the stocks in the center of the stream.
“What the hell is going on here?” The captain began to push people to the sides, moving toward the front of the crowd. The scene before him made his blood boil in anger: The two patrolmen were tied to a barrel, bobbing in the middle of the steam, naked and bound with their own uniforms. The villagers continued to throw rotten vegetables at them, the cheering growing louder with every hit of moldy lettuce, or an overripe tomato.
“WHO IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS???” The Captain shouted, a low growl beginning in his throat.
The people around became deathly silent, all at once noticing the presence of the troops.
The Captain continued to growl, gesturing to his troops. “Take them out of there… “ He turned to the now disbursing crowd. “Mark my words… you’ll regret this.” His fist tightened around the handle of his sheathed sword as he glared into the masses. “Lord Lavorre does not take kindly to peasants assaulting and humiliating his troops.”
The people stared on silently as the troops left the town, heading north to rejoin their comrades. From the center of the group, a small kitten stepped up, calling after the soldiers. “Stick it to ya mother, ya buncha pigs!”
The kitten’s mother promptly stepped forward, placed the kitten over her knee, and spanked the living daylights out of him, her cheeks red with embarrassment.

* * * * *

Darien and Savannah entered a small clearing, looking about in dismay. The grass was all stamped and trampled, as if a herd of wild horses had made it a playground, then suddenly left. Darien dismounted, and began to pad around the area, searching through the pits and ruts in the ground for clues as to what happened. He lifted a small square of cloth, giving a soft sniff.
“Find something, Darien?” Savannah called, from atop her mount.
“Yes… I smells of my father… and mother… “ He clutched the cloth to his chest, looking about the clearing frantically. “And it bears the markings of Lucia…”
“Lucia? Lavorre’s realm? What were they doing here, then? Was it an invading army?” Savannah leaned over her mount a bit more, to get a better view of the cloth in Darien’s paws.
“It doesn’t look like it…” Darien padded about the clearing, his nose and eyes leading him. “A compliment of troops for an invasion would be much, much larger… “ He stopped dead, staring into a thicket of bushes. Silently, he padded in, and lifted something, dragging it from the cover. It was a male tiger, strong, armored, and dangerous looking, dead.
“Its him… the one that stabbed me.” Darien knelt beside the figure, his nose wrinkling a little from the grisly wound on the dead tiger. Silently, he rifled through the pouch of the tiger, gathering a pawfull of gold coins and pocketing them.
“Darien? “ Savannah looked concerned, and a little stunned by her companion’s actions.
“He’s got no need for them now… but we do.” Darien glanced at Savannah. He stripped the tiger’s arms and armor, trying not to think about what he was doing. He silently packed it all into the saddlebags on his mount, offering a pair of daggers to Savannah. “Here.” He whispered, sliding them into her belt.
Savannah looked away, swallowing. “Are… we just going to leave him?” She whispered back.
Darien looked over his shoulder at the tiger, giving a soft sigh. “I haven’t the time to bury him. He left me for the birds… I think its only right I repay the favor.”
Savannah bit her lip, nodding and turning her horse, guiding it in a trot out of the clearing. Darien followed, guiding his horse by its reigns.
“You should go back, Savannah…” Darien looked up at her, “This is my problem… not yours.” Before she could object, or even open her muzzle, he gave her horse a healthy slap on the rear. It neighed loudly, and took off in a gallop, headed for Fallwood. Savannah looked to be barely holding on, as it rode off into the dense forest.
Darien mounted his horse, giving the retreating figure a small wave. “Goodbye.” He whispered, and galloped off in the opposite direction, following the tracks in the dirt.

* * * * *

Lavorre turned his horse from the group of soldiers he was leading, riding out into the foliage. “Captain. Continue to Lucia… I have business to attend to.”
The captain nodded, and called after Lavorre. “Sir? Would you like your bodyguards?”
“That will not be necessary, Captain.” Lavorre called back, disappearing into the dense forest undergrowth.
The Captain rode a bit further down the road, before he turned to two of his men, a wolf and a young fox. “You two, stay behind and wait for lord Lavorre. You will escort him to Brei, and rendezvous with the rest of the company there.” The captain handed a map to the lupine, then led the rest of the company on.
The young fox looked to the wolf with a smirk. “So… what now?”
The wolf grunted and looked to his youthful accomplice. “We wait… “ He reached into his saddlebag and produced a bag of dried meat, tossing a piece to the fox. “If he does not come in two hours, we make camp and head out in the morning.”

Meanwhile, Lavorre continued to ride of into the dense forest, looking for all means to be heading out to the middle of nowhere. He continued to ride for nearly an hour before stopping and securing his horse to a small sapling. Silently he began to strip his armor and clothing, a deeply sadistic smile spreading over his face.

* * * * *

Savannah rode hard for the entire day, glancing back from time to time to see if Darien had in fact left, or if he was following her at a distance. There was no sign, and she gave a soft sigh of disappointment, simply continuing on her way.
Finally, after riding all day, she came to a rise, the only bare one for miles, which gave a splendid view of Fallwood. She shaded her eyes from the setting sun, smiling, if slightly sadly as she gazed over her home.
There was a sudden loud sound of beating wings, and a dreadful wind began to blow, nearly knocking Savannah off her horse. She looked up, stunned and awestruck, as a massive dragon passed overhead. “A dragon??” She squeaked. But dragons are extinct! She thought, horrified.
It flew on, finally circling over Fallwood, watching the town from above with a menacing smile on its face.
Savannah watched it, fear etched on her face. Dragons have been extinct for centuries… what’s one doing here?! She thought, standing up on her mount for a better view.
Suddenly, without warning or provocation, the dragon began to spit fire down on Fallwood, turning the once peaceful down to a burning inferno. Building’s exploded into balls of fire, and even from where Savannah was, she could hear the countless screams of the villagers as they took to flight from the hellish scene.
Savannah watched, horrified, “NO!” She screamed, and began to ride toward the town.
The dragon lifted its head, and looked right at her, a cold smile spreading over its muzzle as it turned, spewing a ball of flame in her direction.
Savannah screamed again, this time in terror, and turned, fleeing the blazing ball of flame, riding her horse as fast as it could move.

* * * * *

Darien rode on alone, following the tracks of the procession. A cold rain had begun to fall, obscuring the tracks in the now muddy mess. He scowled at the mud, mentally guessing by the wear and look of the tracks he was nearly 2 days behind.
“Bad run of luck this is…” He thought, dashing a wet lock of hair from his face. He continued on, urging his horse to move a bit faster.
The trail turned, and Darien once again stopped, catching sight of something that made his blood boil: Two guards of Lucia, camped out on the side of the road.
Darien urged his horse to the side of the road, tying it to a nearby tree. With a low growl, he drew his sword and padded toward the two guards, the rain seeming to part around him as he walked. His body began to steam, unbeknownst to him, the rain gathering in his clothing and fur sizzling right off.
“Come out you BASTARDS!” His fur stood on end, his rage only fueling the heat that emanated from his body, the ground at his feet beginning to crack and split like the bed of a dead river. His tail lashed from side to side, trailing steam like a mist as it moved.

(Thanks everyone for suffering through my bad writing, and the un-downsized pics I used... they weren't intended for the stories, but they seemed to work, so there they were put. Anyway, this is the end of what I have, though I'll prolly have more on the way... tis in no way finished, so comments and suggestions are welcome. ^.^)

Description
Part 4
Darien and Savannah padded out of the forest and back onto the road, following the dusty trail of hoof prints in the dirt. Darien walked with a long and quick gait, making it a bit of a bear for Savannah to keep her pace with him.
They turned around a bend in the trail, and Darien came to a sudden halt, his paw stealing to his sword. Down the path a bit, a pair of wolf riders were lounging under some trees, sharing in a cask of wine that was strapped to the back of a mule. Darien growled deeply, seeing his father’s mark on the side of that mule, even from where he stood. The riders didn’t appear to notice Darien or Savannah, not even as Darien padded up to their encampment.
“Where did you get that animal?” Darien asked calmly and quietly, gesturing with his head to the mule.
Finally taking notice, one of the riders, obviously drunk off his keel, laughed and smirked up at the fox. “We got tha,” He gestured with his head to the mule. “At a farm ‘bout a evening’s journey tha way.” He gestured widely with his arm, pointing to a place on the horizon somewhere between where the sun rises and sets.
Darien turned to the mule, giving its neck a pat. “It’s a good animal. I’m sure it cost you quite a bit.”
Both the riders started to laugh, the drunker of the two falling over and rolling around in his mirth.
Darien turned back to the riders, faking a face of curiosity. “So you didn’t pay for it?”
The more sober of the two riders smirked at Darien. “What Lord Lavorre’s men want, they can take, kit.”
Darien frowned, “I don’t suppose the farmer much liked that idea.”
Both men laughed harder, the drunker of the two spilling his drink on his tunic. “Who cares? That pitiful sod was taken prisoner and me and Malcolm here torched the house!” The drunk one slapped his companion heartily on the back, succeeding in dumping his friend’s drink on his tunic.
Darien smiled, rubbing the mule’s neck gently. “Would they be camped near here? I have unfinished business with that farmer.”
The riders seemed to ignore this, the more sober chastising his partner for dumping a perfectly good glass of wine on his tunic, while his friend poured himself another round. Finally the sober one looked to Darien’s side, his eyes being caught by the sword at his side. “What’ve you got there, kit?”
Darien smiled wickedly. “Trouble.”
The drunk staggered to his footpaws, weaving precariously as he stood. “Let me see it, kit… I like trouble.” He snickered, shooting a grin to his partner comparative to a cub sliding a cooling pie from a windowsill and thinking he’d already stolen the world.
“No.” Darien smiled from under his eyebrows at the man. “Not until you tell me where the rest are camped.”
The drunk didn’t much like being told what he could and could not have, even if it was not his decision about it. He lurched forward, making a slow grab at Darien’s sword. “Arrrgh! ‘and it over, kit!” He growled, stumbling and all but falling back to the ground.
Darien simply stepped aside, letting the paw find only air. “No.” His paw went to the handle of his sword.
The drunk’s friend had by now made his way to his footpaws, and was pulling clumsily on his blade, trying to free it from its sheath. “You bloody well ‘ad better ‘and that over!” He made another pull on his sword, succeeding in drawing it from the sheath, as well as throwing it off to the side.
Darien smiled, watching and waiting for the two wolves to collect themselves. He wasn’t in a good mood, really, but the scene that the two riders were providing was comical enough even to make him laugh.
Savannah padded up from behind, growling deep in her throat. She brought both of the reeling wolves down, one with a knee to the face, and the other with a swing of her paw and stood over them, daggers drawn. “Where?” She glared at the fallen riders, turning a dagger in her paw to throw.
The wolves glared back insolently, both remaining silent.
Without hesitation, Savannah threw her dagger, sticking it into the ground between the drunker of the two’s ears. He gave her a look one might reserve for death, and the growing darkness in the crotch of his trousers told that Savannah had more than made her point. “Tha way…” He pointed to the north, beyond the wheat fields of Fallwood.
Savannah smiled, sliding her dagger back to its sheath. “Thank you.” She put her footpaw on the drunk’s neck, and pulled her dagger from between his ears.
The other rider slid forward slightly, drawing a dagger of his own from his back. He lunged clumsily at Savannah, going to take her by the throat with his blade, instead finding the point of Darien’s sword pressed firmly in his chest. “Down boy.” Darien gave the drunken rider a grin and pushed the wolf back down to the ground with his sword-tip.
“What should we do with them?” Savannah leaned over and whispered to Darien.
Darien glanced from the riders to his father’s mule, then back again, a smile forming on his face.
He turned back to the riders. “Take off your clothes.”

* * * * *

Darien and Savannah rode to the north, taking the horses left by the riders. From behind the two drunks yelled to them, muffled by the cloth tied on their muzzles and struggling with bonds made from their own clothing.
Savannah was laughing so hard Darien had to reach across and steady her from time to time to prevent the vixen from falling off her mount. “I can’t believe we did that!” She continued to laugh, tears of mirth rolling down her cheeks.
“That’s not even the worst part.” Darien threw her a lighthearted grin. “I fastened them to that empty barrel… The next time someone opens the floodgates to water that field, those two will be getting a firsthand tour of Fallwood.” Darien laughed, in spite of himself.
Savannah began to go into spasms of laughter, until she was gasping for breath.
Darien watched for a moment, and then his smile began to fade, reality setting in over the good humor of the moment. He silently urged his horse to move a bit faster, mind setting in on the task at hand.

* * * * *

Lavorre fumed, stalking about the encampment, his glare falling on all who dared cross his path. The soldiers shrank back from his scowling eyes, doing their best to remain clothed in shadows when Lavorre grew near.
“Captain!!” Lavorre shouted, causing a number of ears to wilt in terror. An immaculately clad wolf stepped from the shadows of a nearby tent, his tail curled down submissively. “Yes, m’lord.”
“For your sake, I should hope that our late patrol does not see fit to delay our departure for too much longer.” Lavorre scowled at the wolf, causing an uncontrollable chill to pass through the other fur’s body.
“No, m’lord.” The wolf bowed stiffly. “I’ll find them myself, if need be.”
Lavorre smiled, a small growl pushing from his throat despite. “Oh… need be, Captain. You will find those two idiots, then you will rendezvous with us at Cortain.” His glare followed the quickly retreating fur. “… And be quick about it!” He roared after, causing the wolf to break into a near run to his horse, then off into the thick brush. A complement of 5 soldiers followed quickly after, trying to keep pace with their fleeing leader.
Lavorre watched the soldiers vanish into the trees, distain clearly written over his face. “Bloody idiots…” He muttered, another growl pushing its way up his throat. With a dismissing grunt, he turned back to the remaining soldiers, who had come from the safety of the shadows, seeing that Lavorre’s anger had found a focus.
“Pack it up. We’re returning back to the castle.” Lavorre drew his gaze over the soldiers as he walked, heading for his tent. Hardly had the words passed from his muzzle, than the soldiers began to set about their tasks, hurriedly packing the tents and equipment for the journey home.
Two bound and blindfolded figures were led to their horse, and secured for the long journey back.

* * * * *

“Hell…. BLOODY hell…” The captain growled in disgust, his immaculate cloak finding yet another hang-up in the dense foliage. From behind came a chorus of muted snickers and chuckles, as his less extravagantly dressed soldiers managed the underbrush easily. A scowling glare silenced the lot of them, drawing their taunting half-smiles back into the serious gazes of well trained and battle ready men. Finally, the captain gave up, leaving his cloak hanging in the gentle embrace of a spruce, the fine fabric too entangled to remove without cutting.
The captain growled to himself, both frustrated and angry, even more so that he had nothing to take it out on. He stomped on, leading his men through the dense trees, the last of the group blowing the return for the patrol on his horn. There was no reply, not even a sad mimic by a passing minstrel, or a mischievous village boy.
The day wore on, and they continued to search, finally marching right back to the gates of Fallwood. The men were all complaining amongst themselves, having walked for most of the day in full battle gear without rest. The captain silenced them with a glare, silently turning and entering the town.
The scene that awaited the troops was one of almost carnival atmosphere. The entire village was gathered around the irrigation stream in the town square. Flags flew, and people laughed, sneered and cheered loudly, as if there were a man in the stocks in the center of the stream.
“What the hell is going on here?” The captain began to push people to the sides, moving toward the front of the crowd. The scene before him made his blood boil in anger: The two patrolmen were tied to a barrel, bobbing in the middle of the steam, naked and bound with their own uniforms. The villagers continued to throw rotten vegetables at them, the cheering growing louder with every hit of moldy lettuce, or an overripe tomato.
“WHO IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS???” The Captain shouted, a low growl beginning in his throat.
The people around became deathly silent, all at once noticing the presence of the troops.
The Captain continued to growl, gesturing to his troops. “Take them out of there… “ He turned to the now disbursing crowd. “Mark my words… you’ll regret this.” His fist tightened around the handle of his sheathed sword as he glared into the masses. “Lord Lavorre does not take kindly to peasants assaulting and humiliating his troops.”
The people stared on silently as the troops left the town, heading north to rejoin their comrades. From the center of the group, a small kitten stepped up, calling after the soldiers. “Stick it to ya mother, ya buncha pigs!”
The kitten’s mother promptly stepped forward, placed the kitten over her knee, and spanked the living daylights out of him, her cheeks red with embarrassment.

* * * * *

Darien and Savannah entered a small clearing, looking about in dismay. The grass was all stamped and trampled, as if a herd of wild horses had made it a playground, then suddenly left. Darien dismounted, and began to pad around the area, searching through the pits and ruts in the ground for clues as to what happened. He lifted a small square of cloth, giving a soft sniff.
“Find something, Darien?” Savannah called, from atop her mount.
“Yes… I smells of my father… and mother… “ He clutched the cloth to his chest, looking about the clearing frantically. “And it bears the markings of Lucia…”
“Lucia? Lavorre’s realm? What were they doing here, then? Was it an invading army?” Savannah leaned over her mount a bit more, to get a better view of the cloth in Darien’s paws.
“It doesn’t look like it…” Darien padded about the clearing, his nose and eyes leading him. “A compliment of troops for an invasion would be much, much larger… “ He stopped dead, staring into a thicket of bushes. Silently, he padded in, and lifted something, dragging it from the cover. It was a male tiger, strong, armored, and dangerous looking, dead.
“Its him… the one that stabbed me.” Darien knelt beside the figure, his nose wrinkling a little from the grisly wound on the dead tiger. Silently, he rifled through the pouch of the tiger, gathering a pawfull of gold coins and pocketing them.
“Darien? “ Savannah looked concerned, and a little stunned by her companion’s actions.
“He’s got no need for them now… but we do.” Darien glanced at Savannah. He stripped the tiger’s arms and armor, trying not to think about what he was doing. He silently packed it all into the saddlebags on his mount, offering a pair of daggers to Savannah. “Here.” He whispered, sliding them into her belt.
Savannah looked away, swallowing. “Are… we just going to leave him?” She whispered back.
Darien looked over his shoulder at the tiger, giving a soft sigh. “I haven’t the time to bury him. He left me for the birds… I think its only right I repay the favor.”
Savannah bit her lip, nodding and turning her horse, guiding it in a trot out of the clearing. Darien followed, guiding his horse by its reigns.
“You should go back, Savannah…” Darien looked up at her, “This is my problem… not yours.” Before she could object, or even open her muzzle, he gave her horse a healthy slap on the rear. It neighed loudly, and took off in a gallop, headed for Fallwood. Savannah looked to be barely holding on, as it rode off into the dense forest.
Darien mounted his horse, giving the retreating figure a small wave. “Goodbye.” He whispered, and galloped off in the opposite direction, following the tracks in the dirt.

* * * * *

Lavorre turned his horse from the group of soldiers he was leading, riding out into the foliage. “Captain. Continue to Lucia… I have business to attend to.”
The captain nodded, and called after Lavorre. “Sir? Would you like your bodyguards?”
“That will not be necessary, Captain.” Lavorre called back, disappearing into the dense forest undergrowth.
The Captain rode a bit further down the road, before he turned to two of his men, a wolf and a young fox. “You two, stay behind and wait for lord Lavorre. You will escort him to Brei, and rendezvous with the rest of the company there.” The captain handed a map to the lupine, then led the rest of the company on.
The young fox looked to the wolf with a smirk. “So… what now?”
The wolf grunted and looked to his youthful accomplice. “We wait… “ He reached into his saddlebag and produced a bag of dried meat, tossing a piece to the fox. “If he does not come in two hours, we make camp and head out in the morning.”

Meanwhile, Lavorre continued to ride of into the dense forest, looking for all means to be heading out to the middle of nowhere. He continued to ride for nearly an hour before stopping and securing his horse to a small sapling. Silently he began to strip his armor and clothing, a deeply sadistic smile spreading over his face.

* * * * *

Savannah rode hard for the entire day, glancing back from time to time to see if Darien had in fact left, or if he was following her at a distance. There was no sign, and she gave a soft sigh of disappointment, simply continuing on her way.
Finally, after riding all day, she came to a rise, the only bare one for miles, which gave a splendid view of Fallwood. She shaded her eyes from the setting sun, smiling, if slightly sadly as she gazed over her home.
There was a sudden loud sound of beating wings, and a dreadful wind began to blow, nearly knocking Savannah off her horse. She looked up, stunned and awestruck, as a massive dragon passed overhead. “A dragon??” She squeaked. But dragons are extinct! She thought, horrified.
It flew on, finally circling over Fallwood, watching the town from above with a menacing smile on its face.
Savannah watched it, fear etched on her face. Dragons have been extinct for centuries… what’s one doing here?! She thought, standing up on her mount for a better view.
Suddenly, without warning or provocation, the dragon began to spit fire down on Fallwood, turning the once peaceful down to a burning inferno. Building’s exploded into balls of fire, and even from where Savannah was, she could hear the countless screams of the villagers as they took to flight from the hellish scene.
Savannah watched, horrified, “NO!” She screamed, and began to ride toward the town.
The dragon lifted its head, and looked right at her, a cold smile spreading over its muzzle as it turned, spewing a ball of flame in her direction.
Savannah screamed again, this time in terror, and turned, fleeing the blazing ball of flame, riding her horse as fast as it could move.

* * * * *

Darien rode on alone, following the tracks of the procession. A cold rain had begun to fall, obscuring the tracks in the now muddy mess. He scowled at the mud, mentally guessing by the wear and look of the tracks he was nearly 2 days behind.
“Bad run of luck this is…” He thought, dashing a wet lock of hair from his face. He continued on, urging his horse to move a bit faster.
The trail turned, and Darien once again stopped, catching sight of something that made his blood boil: Two guards of Lucia, camped out on the side of the road.
Darien urged his horse to the side of the road, tying it to a nearby tree. With a low growl, he drew his sword and padded toward the two guards, the rain seeming to part around him as he walked. His body began to steam, unbeknownst to him, the rain gathering in his clothing and fur sizzling right off.
“Come out you BASTARDS!” His fur stood on end, his rage only fueling the heat that emanated from his body, the ground at his feet beginning to crack and split like the bed of a dead river. His tail lashed from side to side, trailing steam like a mist as it moved.

(Thanks everyone for suffering through my bad writing, and the un-downsized pics I used... they weren't intended for the stories, but they seemed to work, so there they were put. Anyway, this is the end of what I have, though I'll prolly have more on the way... tis in no way finished, so comments and suggestions are welcome. ^.^)