A Long Way From Home (Nya, Abashai)

[Gillar]

The 70th Day of Autumn in the year 509 PV The cool autumn evening was not one that greeted the darkly clothed figure kindly. He was one used to the warmth and comfort of a more familiar environment; he was one used to the blessings of one who was beyond nature. Now however, located deep within the forests of the Cobalt Mountains, he was no longer surrounded by the blessings of his master. He stood upon the ledge and looked out over the forest below. How he despised the constant sounds of the birds, bugs, and countless other sources of distraction that echoed around him every night. He couldn't help but hope and pray that it would all cease someday soon; as soon as he helped bring his master's will upon the land. Another distraction came into being as a voice shouted from behind. Slowly turning, he looked with great malice to the one calling his name. "Father Calinthar! We've caught something you need to see! The soldier that called to him was not one of his favored. In fact, he hated the soldiers and didn't care much for the commander either. Father Calinthar, Acolyte of Rhysol and Priest of The Black Sun, had been tasked with the establishment of a new shrine to his master. He had been sent deep into the heart of the Cobalt mountains near Syliras in order to plant the seeds of Chaos into the region. While feeling blessed by Rhysol with the opportunity, Calinthar couldn't help but wish for better accommodations. Escorted by members of the Ebonstryfe, Calinthar viewed them as uncivilized brutes. Led by Commander Dral, the unit consisted of five soldiers and a couple of apprentices. Their mission was to serve Calinthar in his task and to obey his wishes. This was a point of contention between the two leaders. Calinthar, with his light brown hair cascaded down his shoulders, looked upon the soldier with one deep blue eye filled with disdain. The other eye was bleached white; a mark of the Defiler upon his body. His long, pale gray robes rustled softly in the cool breeze while the symbol of the black sun upon his back shined with a light seen only by fellow followers of the Defiler. "This better be good. Not like the last one." Calinthar's voice was sharp and barbed. The last thing that the soldiers had caught was a simple human hunter who had stepped in the wrong place at the wrong time. He was wounded beyond aid and died shortly after falling in one of the unit's pit traps. The soldier nodded and hurried back down the path that led to the unit's camp. Father Calinthar followed. The camp was located in the center of a rough, decaying wall of stone; ruins left over from the Valterrian. What the ruins had once been was now long buried by time and nature but as far as Calinthar was concerned, it was the perfect location for a new shrine to Rhysol and potential outpost for future ventures within the area. The soldier moved past the camp and out into the forest. Calinthar was becoming more and more annoyed with each step as he followed. Moments later they arrived at their destination. The rest of the unit was there and they were standing around one of the many pit traps that they had set up around the camp. Commander Dral looked up as Calinthar arrived. He bowed his head in deference and then motioned to the pit. Four other soldiers and the two apprentices were also there looking down at the pit. As Calinthar came closer and looked down, a smile crossed his face. Indeed they had caught something quite a bit more interesting than a simple human hunter. His smile twisting into something almost unnatural, Calinthar said in a loud whisper, "Congratulations, Commander Dral. You have indeed caught something quite interesting."

[Nya Winters]

There was a pain that didn't seem normal. It was burning, like her shoulder and arm was on fire, but it didn't lesson or diminish as time progressed. And along with the burning was a strange taste in her mouth that had her chewing confusingly at her tongue as she shifted back and forth. Nya knew there was saliva on her lips but she didn't care overly much. That fact seemed distant, as if it was unimportant. Thoughts ran rampant through her head, random ones, one that made no sense to her. A butterfly. Suddenly hungry. Cold, no hot, no cold again. Abashai. The city. Fear. Joy. A pebble on the floor where she paced. Nya tried to cease the whirling in her mind, but a part of her was so detached that there was little she could do to gain the other parts attention or calm its thinking. And in some remote still quiet place in her head, she knew she was in trouble... deep trouble. Foam started dropping from her mouth to her chest, flecking first the sleek brindled fur then the bare skin of her body as she paced the confines of the pit trap, unable to find a way out. They were on the far side of her territory, up the flanks of the mountains near a ruins that lay just outside its boundary.

And like a dumb cat, she'd never considered anyone would build a pit big enough to hold a talderian forest cat. Nya had only wanted to investigate the scent, find out who they were... if they were hunters. She'd assumed hunters. The cat struggled to think, even as more of the strange taste formed at her mouth causing her saliva to foam. Nya knew she was fast weakening, even as whatever was in her finished doing its work. The shifts weren't voluntary. They weren't easy. It was a cruel way to drain a kelvic of energy fast. Part of her wondered, again detached, what would happen if she ran out of the energy she needed to shift halfway between forms, when her body was all made of lights... lights that were quickly dimming.

Nya squalled and continued pacing, glad for once Abashai wasn't with her. She'd left him in the city, because she'd been restless and wanted to run the length of her territory before settling in for the night. The Forest Cat was glad her bondmate wasn't here to witness her stupidity and what resulted from it. She was glad he was safe, in the city, busy sleeping or working late with one of this contacts. She wouldn't want him to see this, to witness it, how effectively they had disabled her as if they'd dealt with her kind for a long long time. Nya was having a hard time, even as she involuntarily shifted again, keeping her feet under her. She was having an even more difficult time caring too. Thoughts drifted. Emotions stabilized. There was no fear, no sense of dread, only emptiness that was filling her mind along with the sour taste of her swollen tongue. The ground seemed awfully close, and though she tried to keep four paws on the ground, the two legs humans had were impossible to manipulate in the confines of the trap.

Nya felt the earth press up against one side of her and absently noted that she'd fallen even as she shifted one more time. The shifts were weakening her and she was tired... so tired that it was even exhausting to slap her tail against the floor of the trap. Her mind whirled even as she looked up and saw the figures swim into clarity at its rim, staring down at her as she involuntarily shifted back to human once more. She was twitching now, weak, and knew she could shift maybe once more before she lost consciousness. But she didn't shift, and in that moment of lucidity she understood just how both lucky and unlucky she was. She wasn't hurt.. not really, just a wicked scratch along her shoulder and arm where one of the massive sharpened stakes designed to kill had ripped into her flesh. That was luck. The unlucky part was the taste in her mouth indicating the sticks were coated with something, something highly poisonous to her system. Already she felt her belly cramping and knew she'd loose food soon in the form of vomit. Lucky because Abashai wasn't riding her or with her and experiencing the same fate. Unlucky because it would be morning before he realized she'd never come back to the city for the night. No matter how long she was gone, she always returned and snuggled onto the bed on top of the covers curling up in the small of his back with her nose usually tucked against the base of his neck where she could breath his scent and purr ever so softly without disturbing him. He always frowned upon this behavior, but after a season and a half together, there was little he'd been able to do to break her of the habit. She'd always kept her nightshirt on, and used his large overcoat as a blanket rather than burrow into the covers with him. Abashai hated skin, and she was careful to abide by his wishes in the matter.

Would he miss her? Would he know where to look? Nya's eyes watched the people above her... six? No... a few more? Her sense of smell was not giving her any clear answers and her vision was unreliable. Would she even be here still when Syna climbed the sky with the morning. The forest cat tried to squall again, but her tongue had gone thick and the foam was choking her now. Nya huffed, mewed in a distressed kitten-like sound, and then jerked, her mind suddenly dimming. She didn't know what was happening, not realizing her distress was causing her heart to race, the poison to act faster, and her body to shut down all that much sooner. She ended up human in the final shift, and then called out her bondmates name softly, while stretching her arms up to the people on the rim, wondering why they weren't helping her as the darkness descended over her mind.

[Abashai]

Abashai's eye's opened with a start, unsure of what had awakened him. He immediately sensed that something was amiss. Absent was the warm presence of his bondmate next to him, her breath on the back of his neck. It was a sensation he had grown to welcome, secretly, in spite of himself. He rolled over, felt the top of the blanket beside him where she usually lay. It was cool. He sat up and quickly glanced around the room, lit only by the early morning light slipping through the cracks around the shutters. No giant forest cat guardian stretched out in front of the door. No Nya. Further inspection gave no indication she had ever returned from her nightly wanderings. The fire, usually stoked by his bondmate upon her returned, smoldered almost lifeless. His coat, her usual sleeping cover, still hung on its peg.

She has always been there in the morning. A disturbing knot developed in his stomach. True, she may just be late, or stayed over while visiting one of the many friends she had made. But that same knot told him that something was wrong. If anything, Nya was a faithful friend, and knew he would worry if she did not return. He could think of only a few things that could keep the dire forest cat from returning to him, and none of them were pleasant. He threw off the blanket and bolted from the bed, throwing on his tunic and pulling his boots on over his pants. He threw open the door and stepped into the street, searching in the dawning light for her among the few early morning risers milling about their business. "Yahal, where is she?"

---

Even in the cool of the autumn morning air, Sus shimmered with lather as Abashai urged the desertbred mount to a full gallop. Horse and rider cut through the morning mist shrouding the Kabrin Road, headlong into the Bronze Wood. Whether a side effect of the kelvic bonding, a telling dream quickly forgotten, or the silent whisperings of Yahal's messenger to his soul, something told him Nya was in danger. It was strong enough to drive him on this foolish mission, to find the forest cat in the vast expanse of her forest territory.

Abashai did have enough sense to leave Nya a note in their room, and to tell Matilda that he went to look for her at the cave. The konti landlord appeared concerned as well, but gave him no insights. He had then hastily packed his arms and what supplies were on hand and raced out of the city.

Bringing the horse to walk, he guided her off the road and into the woods. His plan was to go to their cave. Perhaps Nya was there, or had been there recently, leaving a clue to her whereabouts. Urgency pressed upon him as the horse picked its way between the widely spaced trees and rock outcroppings. He strove to keep tight reins on his imagination. There still could be a benign reason for his bondmate's absence, though he could not think of one...in fact, his gut told him the reason was anything but benign. But he could do her no good if he panicked, so he focused on reaching the cave.

Ducking behind the evergreen boughs concealing the entrance, Abashai quickly combed the cave. No Nya. The fire pit was long dead, the bed of furs cold, neither disturbed since the pair was home last. He jogged back to the entrance, cupped his hand around his mouth and yelled her name. Only his echoing voice, reverberating against the tall trees and hills, responded.

Frustration, anger and helplessness finally overtook him. He spun around and fell to his knees on the cave floor. The telling knot in his gut was as strong as ever, accompanied now by an emptiness near his heart. His mind raced, searching for a direction. There were dozens of places Nya could be, landscape features that she had excitedly shared with him. It would take him days to find them, if he could find them at all. He knew she recently explored the territory to the north, up the slopes of the Colbalts. She had even mentioned showing him the remains of a building she discovered.

He bowed down in the dust and groaned in confusion. "Yahal, I know something is wrong with her, how shall I find her?" The bondmate remembered Nya's mark on her back. He knew the symbol belonged to Zulrav, that storm maker. He wondered if she was marked by the god, just as he was marked by Yahal. He had never asked, and she had never offered. Maybe there were things yet to learn about Nya, just as there were things she needed to learn about him. Out of his desperation, he reached out to both dieties. "Yahal and Zulrav, you have brought us, your children, together. I dread something dire has befallen my bondmate, the one now dear to my heart. Will you help her, and lead me to her?"

[Gillar]

Calinthar watched as the forest cat struggled futility at the bottom of the pit. When the soldiers had first entered the forest and discovered the ruins, they had also found signs of a rather large animal in the vicinity. While this was not uncommon in the wilds of Mizahar, it was also not conducive to being able to set up the new shrine without fear of being eaten. Commander Dral was the one who recognized the tracks as belonging to a rather large cat however he also noted something strange. There were instances when the cat tracks became muddled with humanoid tracks. While the Commander and his unit were experienced members of the Ebonstryfe; the militant arm of the Temple of the Black Sun, they were not well versed in some things. Calinthar on the other hand deduced that they were likely dealing with either a team of man and animal or one in the same; a Kelvic. He had seen a rare few in his time; two of them having been taken as slaves back in Ravok. Intelligent and fierce, a Kelvic was not a creature to be handled lightly. Calinthar had instructed Dral and the others to set up traps in hopes of catching the Kelvic and avoiding potential threats to their mission. So a series of rather large pit traps were dug and lined with sharpened, poison-tipped sticks. While Calinthar had planned on simply killing the beast once it was caught, a part of him wondered what it would be like to own his own Kelvic. As he stood then at the lip of the pit and gazed down upon the struggling-cat-turned-incapacitated-girl, he couldn't stop smiling. He hadn't imagined catching a live one and could only wish to have caught a female. Now he had both desires in one. Dral, the other four male soldiers and one female, all watched the Kelvic in wonder. They had never encountered a wild Kelvic and any of them who may have seen one before only did so when it was a slave; broken and obedient. "Shall we finish it off?" Dral asked Calinthar. The Commander wanted nothing to do with the Kelvic. He was here on a mission and he wanted to finish it without trouble. As far as he was concerned, the Kelvic was just the trouble he wanted to avoid. Calinthar let his smile fade slightly as he looked over to Dral and said, "No. I want her alive. Get her out of there, take her back to camp and chain her up." The priest reached into a pouch at his side and pulled out a small glass vial filled with a thick, purple, paste-like substance. He tossed it to Dral and said, "Give her this. It should keep her docile enough to prevent your troops from losing a limb or two." Calinthar paused a moment and added, "Cover her with a blanket and keep your men away from her. If she is defiled in any way, I will personally dig out YOUR eyes and feed them back to you." Dral nodded and bowed his head in acknowledgment before ordering his troops to retrieve the Kelvic from the pit and attend to the rest of the priest's orders. Calinthar bowed his head and whispered thanks to Rhysol for such a wonderful prize before returning to camp. ------------------------------------------------------ Abashai called out for divine assistance in discovering what exactly was going on and why he could not find Nya. Whether he actually expected to receive an answer or not, he was left with silence for many moments. Then, the wind slowly began to pick up. It was a cool wind; Autumn having set in deeply with with winter on the way. The strong breeze that washed over Abashai carried with it the sound of Nya's labored, whispered voice as she called out one last time before falling into unconsciousness. The breeze and the sound seemed to come from a specific direction that led deep into the woods and off to one of the furthest corners of Nya's hunting grounds.

[Nya Winters]

It was one thing to hear stories growing up in the shelter of a mothers arms while cuddled on her lap back when things were sweet and the truth of a persons true identity had yet to emerge. It was also one thing to hunt along side a wolf that still bore a shackle on his wrist and scars on his back from fighting for the zith's pleasure. The stories she'd heard in both scenarios hadn't seemed real. Nya, for all that she had a wilder form that was incredibly powerful, was a gentle soul who'd been carefully raised and in many ways sheltered from the truths of the world. It was entirely another thing to come back to yourself after what had just happened to her, and find herself in the condition she was in.

Nya had never been confined a day in her life. One couldn't count the stone room in Lormar Tower for there were blankets, clothing, toys, books... and most importantly she'd been free to move around and burn off energy. That was just the confinement of punishment when it was merited or her own safety was in jeopardy. When she woke though, Nya realized a new sort of confinement. It was a two-fold scenario. First there was a thick iron collar around her neck. It was padded with leather, but just about the heaviest thing she'd ever felt. She realized, almost instantly, that it would prevent her from shifting. And if she was still having the involuntary shifts, it would decidedly kill her. The second thing she realized was that her wrists were bound in very similar shackles, though this time not padded, that were connected by a length of chain only a foot wide. The chain from her neck lead off behind her and was firmly locked around a massive pole that acted as a tent stake. She pulled at it, but the pole was a thick one, driven deep into the ground. A rough wool blanket covered her body, though she could still feel the mud on her face and the snarls in her hair. Absently she noted she needed a bath, but the fact didn't really bother her like it normally would. Her arm had five stitches hastily sewn into her flesh, but the pain was dull and seemed far away.

Nya shifted and took stock of her surroundings. She was in a tent of sorts - a large one. Where she was at was a sort of foyer or front curtained off section. There was a meeting table that would seat eight comfortably in the center of the room and it was scattered with some sort of paperwork and blueprints. Beyond that was a desk set up against a far wall of deep blue canvas. The floor was covered with rugs of some sort, that were warm and muffling sound quiet nicely. A curtain was drawn back to reveal a sort of bedchamber beyond complete with a full sized bed, dresser, and chest. There was a full length mirror that was set at such an angle that Nya could see herself reflected in it. She looked... dirty. She looked... like a slave chained out of the way until someone decided to remember her. Staring at herself in the reflected mirror across the room distracted her for a moment. Nya hadn't truly seen herself in quite a while. She'd changed. Her legs were longer, her body wrapped in muscle. Her hair, though tangled was a brindled wave nearly to her waist. Her cheekbones had elongated and hollowed out. The softness of youth had disappeared replaced by curves and tight skin that made her look and feel older. It startled her... how much she looked like her mother. She didn't have her mothers bonzed skin - skin like Abashai had. Instead she had her father's paleness and in a way his hair, though hers was a color all its own and not the shocking bright copper.

Nya opened the blanket. She was covered with bruises from the fall. But otherwise her body was flat, sleek, strong. The softness of her childhood was gone. It had perhaps migrated north to add to the curves that were there now. She had more wounds on her stomach, though they were just scratches where more of the pointed stakes had tried to bite into her flesh. And her legs... thankfully.. .were free of manacles. Nya turned her attention from the mirror, and tried to stand up. Her mind wanted too, but her body seemed disinclined. Something was wrong there too. So instead, she stretched, shifted her position so she was squatting with the blanket wrapped around her, and took stock of her mind. It was something her mother had taught her to do a long time ago. If you were in a new situation, take stock.

She wasn't upset. She wasn't truly feeling pain. She wasn't worried about anything. She wasn't angry. Nya felt a calm sense of mellowness that surrounded her mind like a fog hovering over a lake in the early cold of a fall morning. That should of alarmed her. But it did not. Nya simply wasn't bothered. She didn't worry about Abashai. She didn't fear what was to come. A calmness surrounded her when the shackles and neck iron should have drove her mad.

All there was to do was wait, and she was content to do so without squirming or fussing or being overly curious. Somewhere in the back of Nya's mind she should have been worried about this... but she wasn't.

Instead, she began to clean up herself, grooming thoughtfully.

[Abashai]

Silence. The desperate benshiran sat on his knees, bowed over until is face almost brushed the cave floor, his breath disturbing the loose dust. His hands, fists filled with dirt and dust, rested on the cold earth. If his plea to the gods proved vain, Abashai feared he would never find Nya. He quieted his eager breathing, focused physical senses, opened his soul.

A cool wind stirred the nearby boughs, blew around Abashai praying at the cave's mouth. The draft stirred the loose locks that fell around his face, swirled its fingers around his form, kicked at the hem of his coat. It was a telling wind, he thought, it told of the coming of winter. But it carried more than the promise of another season, it delivered a message.

Abashai heard it, heard Nya's strained voice. It was almost a whisper, but sounded coldly distant. Abashai. She called his name. That one word was enveloped in tones of pain, confusion and need. She needed him. He responded, without thinking, in his own heartsick voice. "Nya!" Panic rose in his chest. He dared not look up, he knew she was not there. Instead he focused on the breeze. It was not a broad blast, but directed. Eyes squeezed shut, he concentrated. The wind had its own path, its cool touch drawn down from the peaks of the Cobalts. He looked in that direction, envisioned the path the breeze followed. It let deeper into the woods. He knew it would lead almost to the mountain's slopes. It would lead to Nya.

Leaping up, Abashai bolted from the cave to his waiting horse. She may get him there faster, but if the ground became impassable, the beast would slow him. Besides, he felt as if he could run on Zulrav's wind right now. He led Sus to the lean-to he had made for her, ensured she had feed and water. He slung his pack on his back and shoved his khopesh through his belt. Stringing his bow, he grabbed his quiver and water skin and broke out into a dead run, deeper into the forest and into the divine wind.

Abashai ran. Over fallen trees, around rock outcroppings, through streams, wherever he sensed that cool breeze. He turned that sound over and over in his mind, his name spoken so sadly in her soft alto voice. It spurred him forward, overwhelmed him with urgency. He tried to focus on the immediate, the next slope to climb, the path between trees. He tried to regulate his labored breathing, like in Ry'vata, but his lungs burned with every inhaled breath. All to keep from imagining what might have happened to Nya. Stumbling, he fell forward, rolling across the leaf-covered ground. Abashai struggled to stand, chest heaving. he lifted his head and growled in frustration. Leaning forward, hands on his knees, he paused to catch his breath. The breeze swept up, blowing his sweat soaked hair across his face. Can't stop. He moved forward, at a lumbering pace, then into a more comfortable jog.

While his body droned numbingly along, his mind raced. Had he been a good bondmate? He didn't even know how to be a bondmate. He regretted not spending more time with Nya, more time out of the city, where they both felt free. His duties on the council took more of his time than he realized. He saw how he often failed to remember what she was, tried too hard to fit her into a human mold. Worst of all, he allowed his hidden past to affect how he treated her. Abashai had no doubts that Nya knew he held painful things in his heart. She was too perceptive, knew him too well. Those old secrets caused him to withhold his affection, erected a wall that kept her at a distance. He hated that. When the bond started, he wanted nothing more than to pour his heart out to her. But old fears whispered lies to him. Telling him that he would end up disappointing her, dishonoring her, destroy their bond.

And now it may be too late to ever tell her those secrets. He swore he would not let the whispering doubts that wrecked his relationship with his family destroy what divine will had created between Nya and himself. That is, if he could find her, if she was alright. Abashai scrambled up the rising foothills, bound and determined to find his bondmate.

[Gillar]

The camp was located in the center of a a small set of ruins dating back to before the Valterrian. While the ruins themselves were nothing grand; perhaps an old farmstead back before the forest emerged, they would serve as a good foundation for the new shrine. Calinthar, as an established Acolyte of The Black Sun, made the long journey into the forest with nothing less than full travel accommodations complete with pavilion tent and all the comforts possible from home. It was more of an annoyance than unfortunate that the slaves required to transport everything had died shortly after setting everything up. The trouble of acquiring more would be tasking and more than a little frustrating for Calinthar since they would be needed for a good portion of the shrine's construction. For the time being however, Calinthar was comfortable with his lodgings though he couldn't wait to begin work on the shrine and more permanent accommodations. As for the Ebonstryfe soldiers, they had their own smaller tents positioned a short distance from Calinthar's; closer to the horses and the supply tent. Following their capture of the Kelvic, the soldiers went about binding and leashing her within Calinthar's tent. They tended to some of her more troubling wounds and Dral was sure to give her the contents of the vial given to him by Calinthar. When Nya was fully bound, Dral pulled the topper from the vial and poured the pasty almost jelly-like substance into her mouth. When he was sure that all was as Calinthar wished, he and his soldiers returned to their own side of the camp for a short break before heading out on patrol. Their patrols were a combination of territory-scouting and slave-hunting. There was a rather well-used road some distance away that provided a perfect place to try their luck at capturing a few lightly armed merchants. There were few short of heavily armed escorts who could hope to stand against a trained unit of Ebonstryfe. While sitting down around a small fire, the soldiers took turns with swigs from a flask while discussing their newest find. There were five soldiers in all with two apprentices that at the time, were tending to the horses. The unit had began with one additional soldier but he had been killed in a struggle with a rather large bear several days earlier. Commander Dral sat around the fire with soldiers, Vand, Humphrey, Trunt, Mael and Lyseri. None were too pleased with being deep in a strange forest so far from home and they were definitely not happy with Calinthar taking the Kelvic for his little play thing. "What is he thinking by keeping that thing alive? What if it escapes? Soldier Humphrey asked aloud yet quiet enough not to have his voice carry too far. Soldier Mael added, "All it takes is one little slip up and that cat-bitch will be on us like hair on a dog." The others grumbled their own concerns before Commander Dral, quiet through most of it, raised his hand in a gesture of silence. "It is not our place to question an Acolyte. I understand your concerns but know that, regardless of how we may feel about it, Father Calinthar has the ear of Thurazor not to mention the ear of Rhysol, Himself. His decisions are final and I will have no more questioning of his orders. Now, enjoy your drink and get ready for patrol." Dral was not a fan of Calinthar though he understood quite well the chain of command. It was the Druvin, Thurazor who had ordered the construction of the shrine on behalf of The Voice with the blessing of Rhysol. None dared challenge Thurazor and to doubt The Voice much less Rhysol was like wishing to have one's own flesh slowly stripped from their body before being forced to eat it. Meanwhile, Calinthar returned to camp after a quiet session of prayer and communion. Ambitious, cruel and selfish, he was also a man of faith and one who enjoyed frequent moments spent meditating and seeking answers within the chaos of that whom he served. He arrived at his tent and entered. He saw that Nya was awake and apparently fiddling with her hair as if trying to clean herself up a bit. He watched her for a moment before stepping into full view. Allowing a slight smile to cross his lips, Calinthar spoke in a calm, almost fatherly tone, "It is good to see you awake. I would say you have had quite the experience. How do you feel?" ------------------------------------------------------------------- Abashai made his way hurriedly through the mountain foothills; guided by worry, fear, and faith that he would find his bondmate. While the two shared a unique and very special bond, Nya was still a solitary hunter by nature. Her instincts often carried her on hunts far away from Abashai even if she almost always returned within a reasonable amount of time. Even though Abashai now had it in mind that she was in trouble, her exact location was still yet unknown. Ever so often he thought he felt that same breeze that first alerted him to Nya's danger as it guided him deeper into the wilds yet there were moments where uncertainty threatened to set in. Could it all be in his head? Perhaps he was only hearing and feeling what he wanted to. Maybe someone or something was simply toying with him. Whenever doubt or confusion was ready to pounce, that strange breeze grew colder as if to strike shards of ice deep into his mind, reminding him that it was not just his imagination. Focus was the key to finding Nya and staying alive long enough to do so. The Cobalt Mountains were not just a pile of rocks surrounded by a couple of trees. The entire region was wild, dangerous and deadly. Poisonous plants, insects who could kill with but a bite or a sting, predators of all shapes and sizes stalked the forest in search of their next meal were all potential threats not to mention the more unnatural dangers that many claimed to have seen. These were all things that Abashai would need to consider as he made his way further into the mountains in search of Nya. These were things that included at least one immediate danger; the one that was watching him, hunting him as he made his way. Uncertain at first, Abashai was soon able to tell that he was indeed being followed by someone or something. How long it had been there he couldn't be sure. It could have been there since he left the cave or it could have been more recent.

[Nya Winters]

Nya could smell the man before he got close, so she was not taken by surprise when he slipped into the tent and walked across its length to stand before her. As she groomed, the forest cat had stolen a bit of time to think. There was something powerful in thinking. First Zilvia and then Abashai had routinely reinforced that lesson. And her thoughts revolved around one thing - getting free. Fighting would do no good, not with the iron and all the weapons around. If she was a deceptive creature, she could have used that most effectively to try and trick the man into removing the chains. But Nya was a creature of values, honest, and forthright. She decided her best course was to be honest.

"I feel dirty. I do not like being dirty. Otherwise, I am not harmed." She said softly, looking up at him boldly and with a slight tinge of curiosity.

"I was patrolling my territory for other cats, making sure everything was safe within it, and hunting a bit of rabbit. For what purpose did you dig the trap? Not for me, was it? I am not interested in hurting anyone. These ruins are even on the far edge of the land I call my own. Why do you come here? Surely we could have settled this peacefully, without these..." Nya said, holding up her chained wrists. "It is forbidden to hunt people or harm them in any way here. I know the rules of human law quite well. I have not broken them." She said softly, running her tongue over her left arm and lifting it slightly to rub her forehead against her now damp forearm, taking off another bit of dirt.

She studied him, quietly, passively while she thought about his question, his reaction to her predicament.

[Abashai]

Weariness made way for wariness. Abashai's emotion-fed dash through the forest slowed as his body rebelled against the man's unreasonable demands. As muscles tightened and lungs ached, his brain gained control of his madness. When he was forced stop in order to keep from collapsing, the benshiran found he had lost his direction again. He leaned against a giant tree and pulled the wooden stop from his waterskin, allowing a trickle to run down his throat. He used it sparingly, in case Nya would need it.

Abashai leaned his head against the tree. He had no idea where Nya's territory ended, he couldn't even tell how far he had progressed, but he had just passed a tree marred by large claw scratches, the kind Nya left to mark her hunting grounds.

Panting, Abashai looked around. These woods were different from those surrounding their cave. In addition to the familiar scampering of the small forest fauna, the calls of unfamiliar birds and insects surrounded him. Occasionally, the cry of something unknown would echo from a distance.

Then there was the follower. He wasn't sure when he first noticed it, the sensation of being watched. The feeling was vague at first, and his troubled mind could have simply imagined it. Now, whether by barely perceptible sounds or some primal sense, Abashai had concluded he definitely was being followed, or hunted. The desert man did not want to consume precious time trying to locate his stalker, but wisdom dictated he had to proceed cautiously. Just in case, Abashai removed the shortbow from his back and set an arrow to the string. If he was attacked, maybe he could get a shot off before the attacker closed in on him.

Steady breathing and mental acuity returned his sense of control. The urgency never diminished, the desperate need to find Nya still energized his being. But a madman would get himself killed out here before ever finding the forest cat. Restraining the emotions would not be easy, but, controlled, they could serve to drive his already taxed body up the rising hills.

Eager to regain his orientation, Abashai concentrated, praying for the telling wind again. Then, again, the cold breeze touched him. It chilled his sweat slick forehead and neck, then ruffled his hair, before swirling up to dissipate among the high branches. Ahead and to the left was its source. Frantic zeal now replaced with fiercely determined resolution, Abashai felt ready for whatever lay ahead, or behind. With a final quick glance around, weapon at the ready, he headed off again.

[Gillar]

Calinthar couldn't help but despise the creature before him for what it was. His teachings told him it was an abomination and worthy of nothing else other than slavery or extermination. He had been taught that only humans were worthy of respect and that all others were lesser. He was still human however with human fears as well as desires. The thing before him, while dirty and wild looking, was female and not all that unattractive. This perhaps was what he despised most; the affect that this creature could have on him if he was not strong enough. He held a soft, calm, non-threatening smile upon his face as she spoke. He hadn't however expected her to be so open considering her situation. After hearing her explain herself as well as question him, he decided to humor her. For Calinthar it was all a game; a game of words, wits and action. He enjoyed such games and this one could be quite an enjoyable one. He told himself that he would surely see this one to the end. Before responding to any of Nya's questions, Calinthar reached into his robes and pulled forth a small cloth rag. He then took a canteen from his side, opened it and soaked the rag with water before walking toward Nya. He stopped just short of where the chains would allow her to move and handed her the wet rag so that she may further clean herself. "Allow me to answer your questions in turn. We discovered that something large stalked this area; something potentially dangerous. We set the trap, and a few others like it, to hopefully remove this potential threat from our midst. We did not have the intention of catching a humanoid female. We are here to establish a place of worship, a quiet, humble place where we may base ourselves for future endeavors in faith." Calinthar, while considering the woman to be beneath him, was fascinated by her display of intelligence and reason. Telling her the truth without giving away the whole truth, could go a long way in advancing the various goals that were already forming in his mind. "As for your chains, I have seen what you are and know what you could do if angered and allowed to be free. If indeed this area is one you claim as your own, you would not simply allow us to pass through, much less establish ourselves and remain unharmed. Now the idea of human law is one that can fall under various interpretations. I do not follow whatever laws this area may be covered by as I am not from here. The laws I obey are set not by man but by a god. My god tells me that if you feel threatened, you take steps to remove that threat. The part of that law that should interest you especially is that "removal" can mean many things; not necessarily death." Calinthar wasn't sure he wanted to see the girl killed at all now. He had considered using her for various things before disposing of her but a creature like this with such intelligence could be useful for many things. Even if she wasn't, he could at least have a little fun before getting rid of her. "I will be more than happy to answer any more questions you may have but first I would ask that you answer some of mine. First, are you alone in this area? Is there anyone else, of your kind or other, that you travel with or who you know reside int his area? Also, what is your name? I am called, Father Calinthar." ------------------------------------------------------- Abashai paused in his search for Nya to give another pray for guidance and prepare himself for whatever was stalking him. Before he could continue on, Abashai heard a deep, rumbling growl echo all around him. It was a hollow sound, one that struck hard and cold deep into the body. Abashai need not look too close to find the source as a large form took several short, calculated steps toward him from behind a nearby wall of bushes. The creature that emerged stood on four legs and was about the size of an adult wolf. It too was vaguely canine but possessed overwhelming reptilian features. To Abashai it looked like a very large lizard with a stubbed tail and neck with random patches of black fur sprouting from its body. Its eyes were coal black and its scaly hide was brown and gray. It opened its mouth and two knife-sized fangs extended forth. It moved much like a wolf with much more fluidity than a lizard. The creature stalked closer and closer and reminded Abashai of Nya when she was about to pounce upon her pray. The surrounding terrain was neither for or against Abashai in this instance. There were light rock formations common in the foothills and the scattering of trees were sparse enough to allow free movement while thick enough to prevent an easy escape. Not far away and to the east was a slight cliff with the bottom reaching roughly 50 feet.