Open On The River Paved Road

[Aoren]

41st of Fall, 515 AV
Afternoon

Aoren walked along the road just outside the gates of Riverfall. He was making his way from the Sanctuary to the city. At his side was a large black dog that seemed utterly attentive to their surroundings. His ears were perked. The dog remained close to Aoren for which the Drykas man was thankful. The pace he walked was slow. His movements were measured with each step being taken with care. In his right hand, Aoren kept a firm grip upon an old looking wooden quarterstaff that he used as an aide for walking. He flinched as the sounds of the city fell upon his ears. It was not that it hurt. His walk wasn’t slow because he was tired. Physically, Aoren was suffering from very little. The tender care of his beloved combined with the grace of Rak’keli had seen to that. He was perhaps leaner than he was a few seasons ago but for all intents and purposes, Aoren was physically healthy. It was his soul that was pained.

Had it really been nearly two seasons? The attack that Aoren had suffered in the previous Spring had sent his spirit to a different place. A place where mortals should not linger. Aoren could recall virtually nothing of the experience. He knew where he had been and because of that his heart, his soul, it ached with a loss of something so pristinely beautiful there were nights when he was overcome with emotion. There was a word for the place but now it seemed a pale reflection of the truth of what it represented.

The Chavena.

For nearly two seasons, Aoren’s soul had wandered. He had been lost among the Chavi. Through the grace of Avalis, the Drykas Seer was blessed with the gift to walk through the halls of the Chavi. There in that place where time held no meaning and the lives of thousands were stories to be witnessed, Aoren had ventured. It had been his refuge from a pain so unbearable in the physical world his body and spirit had split. Was that the act of his goddess saving him from agony? Or had it been simply too terrible for him to comprehend? Aoren did not know. All he knew was that while he had wandered the Chavi he had seen wonderful things. He had seen terrible things. He had seen beginnings and ends and though his mind remembered none of it, his soul did. In the Chavi it had been beautiful. It had been peaceful. Awakening to Mizahar had been nothing short of traumatic after so long a time among such ethereal glory. The whole experience had left its mark upon Aoren. As a result of his soul returning to his body to the awakened world, he was still struggling now and then to orient himself.

Sometimes it was too loud. Sometimes moving proved to be awkward. Sometimes the world was simply too bright. He was making improvements in the ten days that he had been returned to the waking world. But Aoren knew he had a long ways to go. He was hopeful that he would return to mostly himself in time. He would never be the same man as before. But Aoren wasn’t entirely certain that was a bad thing. Reaching out the tall blonde place a hand upon Isikai’s head. He ran his fingers through the dog’s soft fur drawing comfort in the touch.

“Isikai, stop. I must rest a moment.” Closing his eyes the Drykas eased himself onto the ground resting his quarterstaff on the ground beside himself. When he opened his eyes he felt a pang that made him wince. Isikai took up a post right next to Aoren. The troubled man continued running a hand through his dog’s fur. Aoren allowed himself a moment of reflection. His eyes staring off into the distance. The time he had lost he could never regain. Part of him mourned it. The other part of him was consumed with thoughts of the road ahead and where it would lead.

[Alea Davenport]

Alea had almost gotten used to life in Riverfall--that is, her routine had stablized enough that she was no longer paralyzed with wondering what the day would bring, and where she was going to find her next meal. And yet, sometimes there were moments when she would look at the stonework framed against the sky and feel like the place she appeared to be in was not quite real. She was reasonably certain it was not a dream, at least she could remember enough boring details about the recent past that she didn't think she'd dreamed them all, but there was still something unreal about the unfamiliar way the light filtered through the atmosphere, and the indefinably altered smell of a strange sea, in this part of the world so unimaginably distant from anything she'd ever known.

She felt this while walking along one of the marginally familiar paths, the one from the city to the Sanctuary, a road she had taken often enough over the past season that she no longer had to concentrate to avoid missing an important turn or landmark. Still, she walked cautiously, checking over her shoulder frequently, as if expecting to be followed, or perhaps assaulted. Whenever she met someone on the walkway, she stood aside and waited for them to pass, eyeing them uncomfortably, with her back to whatever most resembled a wall.

...Of course, that only worked if the people on the road were moving. The man and dog she was approaching were distressingly stationary.

She looked back along the pathway, wondering if there was a way to go around. She took a few uncertain steps back, thinking there might be, but paused again when she realized it was a bit of a ways, and her feet were becoming sore. She shuffled the other way, looking at the man and frowning at his dog, trying to decide whether she could get past without getting close enough to risk a confrontation. It would be easier for everyone if she could just get around somehow...but before she could make a firm decision, she happened to catch the man's eyes, and knew it was too late. He had seen her.

A spark of...something flared in Alea, something innately familiar which made her face scrunch up into what might be described as a defiant frown. Her feet were sore, she decided, and she was not going to let this man and his dog prevent her from having a rest. She edged as close as she dared, which was still maybe a dozen yards away, and then sat down herself on the opposite side of the road, rubbing her bare, calloused feet. The season's weather was starting to becoming cooler, and she was thinking socks might be a good investment, but she still had time yet before they became truly necessary. She pointedly looked anywhere but at the two figures on the road's other side, except for every so often when she would glare pointedly at them. I can take them, if it comes to a fight, she convinced herself. The stick might be a bit of a challenge...but I've faced worse. Not, 'and won', but she deliberately neglected to think about that detail.

[Duron]

Walking over to a large stone about the size of his head, Duron put the rock in his leather backpack. The akalak figured that he was already getting a reputation for being a odd bird since he had been caught loudly to talking to himself. Insanity was the curse all akalak with facial tattoos must deal with. At least everyone who lived in Riverfall longer than a year would know that he was insane by akalak standards. Placing a rock in a empty backpack would just add to the long list of odd events did during the past season and the current season at his place of employment. Duron knew when he was hired at the Sanctuary that he would be left alone for the most part by the other residents in the compond except for the brief encounter with Kavala and with another farmhand named Alea Davenport. The akalak spent most of his days hunting in the coastal forests or cleaning the barns. In the evening, he would eat supper with his brothers of the Cerulean Cult before returning to Sanctuary to sleep for the night, so he didn't have much time to interact with the people of the Sanctuary. In truth, would they really want to share their dinner table with a member of the Cerulean Cult? It was a answer that he never sought because he always seemed to know the answer.

Taking of his blue shirt and cloak, he placed them into the backpack on top of the rock and his water skin. Tying up his backpack, the akalak sat down on the ground and spread his legs apart. Bending over the right leg, he reached out to touch his toes, but he could only touch the top of his knee. Duron held his hand in this spot for half a chime until he could feel the back of his leg start to burn. After the half a chime, he reached over his left leg and tried to touch his toes once again the akalak could only touch his knee. Standing up, the akalak spread his legs apart and tried to touch the ground, but he couldn't reach the ground, but he could fell the muscles in his lower back start to burn from the stretch. Standing back up straight, he decided to roll his hips around to loosen the joints and muscles in his hip, and eventually, he decided that he was limber and warmed up enough to start his jog in the cool autumn breeze.

Without a shirt, Duron secured his backpack to his bare back and picked up his spear laying besides it. The rest of Riverfall might think him as crazy, but he was soldier, so he needed to train with all his gear to build up his endurance. Strapping the sheathe of his lakan to his belt, the akalak started to slowly run to the city gates. The terrain was relatively smooth, but the weight of the equipment on his back made him have to stop every five chimes to catch his breath. After a half a bell, the akalak was lumbering down the path to the point of collapse. Thinking to himself, Duron said out loud, “Maybe... it wasn't... the best idea.... to put the rock... in the bag...”

Eventually, the akalak stop running and leaned on his spear for support as he did his best to not fall over. Looking around, he saw the familiar face of Alea Davenport sitting on one side of the road and a blonde human male sitting on the other side of the road with a dog. Duron cared little about what people thought of him, so he smiled at Alea and said, “Don't mind... me. I am just going to die now...” Looking at the blonde man, the akalak said with a chuckle, “Sorry for disturbing... your peaceful day, but I am just going to lie here ...in the middle of the road. Don't let anyone run me over... with a horse or a wagon....” With his last word, the tattooed akalak laid down on the ground and looked up at the blue sky.

[Aoren]

Aoren’s quiet reflection was interrupted by the shuffling of feet. It was not an unusual sound so much as it was what drew him back to the here and now at that particular moment. Cobalt eyes were cast upward to meet the narrow eyed gaze of a young woman. The glare Aoren was receiving was met with the slightest arching of an eyebrow. Apparently he had caused an offense that he was yet unaware of. Beside him, Isikai huffed and nudged Aoren’s hand with his nose prompting him to continue his petting. The gesture brought a smile to his face. He gave Isikai an affectionate rustle of the fur on his head before grasping his staff heaving himself up with a sigh.

It came first as a whisper. The gentle nudging of Rak’keli always drifted across Aoren’s reverie in the softest of ways prompting him to look around. The young woman was seated on the ground nursing her feet. Aoren shook his head with a wistful smile. His duty was calling. He would gladly answer if the young woman would allow him. The task of aiding another that their pains might be alleviated would give him something to focus on. But the not-so subtle glances being cast his way were less than inviting.

Reaching within himself, Aoren tread cautiously into the still waters of his djed. Since his awakening he had not waded into the sea of magic at his command at any great length. Reimancy was taxing. Flux was simply out of the question in his weakened state. But the inquisitive powers of Auristics were gentle and came easy. Angling himself slightly he leaned upon his staff slowly making his way toward the young woman. As he walked, the opalescent gnosis mark gifted to him by Rak’keli would be evident upon the right side of his face. The moments between his approach to her were filled with the passive study of her aura. For the moment, Aoren made no effort to delve into the deeper recesses of the outer most layer of her soul. Flashes of emotion floated before his eyes surfacing up from the woman’s aura.

Among the first things he assessed was agitation mixed with apprehension. She was on edge about something. Truthfully, Aoren couldn’t blame her. She was wandering a road alone in Riverfall. As he neared her he spoke clearly.

“You are in pain. Might I be of aid?” By the oath he swore to the Goddess of Healers he could bring no intentional harm to the young woman if it could be avoided. Whether or not she recognized him for what he was, was an entirely different matter.

In that moment, another presence drifted across Aoren’s senses. The compulsion to mend, to heal, growing more insistent. He turned his head slightly to be met with an Akalak roughly his height suddenly collapsing to the ground. Aoren focused on the man’s aura that he might discern his general state of being. He was still merely brushing the surface. What he found brought a slight twitch of confusion to his brow as the Akalak’s aura became more definitively clear. Smatterings of regret mixed in with determination and a number of other feelings. In regards to what? Aoren couldn’t say. What was obvious however was that the Akalak needed help in a more pressing way than the woman did.

“Excuse me.” Aoren gave the woman a bow of his head. Slowly he approached the seemingly dazed Akalak. Isikai padded by his side, a silent shadow ever near.

Kneeling down Aoren touched his hand to the Akalak’s shoulder. The moment his hand touched upon the man’s shoulder he gave himself to the insistence of his goddess. He gave himself to her gift happily. It made him feel productive in the face of monotonous exercises to regain his strength. The soothing power of Rak’keli would flow through his touch mending what it could as a result. Without removing his hand, Aoren spoke to the man.

“Are you alright?”

[Alea Davenport]

Alea leaned unconsciously away from the man as he approached. But when he spoke, her the caution in her face transmuted to disgust. He thought she was in pain? Just because she was rubbing her feet? Sure they were a little sore, but she would have thought in a city full of fighters, they knew what did and did not qualify as pain. Her lips twisted into a snarl, but before she could release the retort behind them, the loud sound of a large running man interrupted them.

She recognized the Akalak from the Sanctuary, but they had not interacted directly very much, and she could not quite call to mind his name. She still wasn't sure what she thought of him, but he was a worker in the same way she was, and that was the sort of professional relationship she could wrap her brain around. They shared common goals, and he did not seem inclined to deliberately make her life miserable, so he was slightly safer than a person she met on the street, at whose motivations she could not even begin to guess.

She looked on in some alarm as her coworker announced his impending demise. Though, she did wonder, if he was so intent on dying, why it would bother him to be run over. Perhaps he was merely being considerate of other road patrons; after all, it must be rather distressing for a horse to run over a corpse. Of course, Alea's time was valuable, and he wasn't exactly paying her to stand guard for eternity, so she used her considerable intellect to arrive at an efficient solution to the problem.

Keeping her distance from the strange, not-so-blue man, she moved to the side of the Akalak farthest from the stranger, and wrapped both hands around one blue wrist. Then she dug her heels into the road and threw all her weight into dragging the several-hundred-pound man out of the path of moving vehicles.

[Duron]

The sky was a nice shade of blue as the akalak did his best to recuperate on his own. As time passed, he was sure the hear the anger yells of people trying to get by, but his muscles were tense from all the running, so he wasn't going to move till he felt better. It was the only logical thing to do. Suddenly, he heard the sounds of boots around him. Looking above him, he saw the clean shaven face of the blond human looking down on him and his trusty canine besides him. The human knelt down. put a hand on his shoulder, and suddenly all the tense muscles in his body seemed to fade away. It was a wonderful feeling, and the akalak smiled at his healer and said with a nod of his head, “Whatever you did definitely eased the strain on my aching muscles. Thank you.”

Duron was about to sit up, but Alea seemed to have other plans for him. Suddenly, the young woman grabbed him by the waist and started to yank. It was entertaining at first watching the much smaller young woman trying to pull a man twice her weight to one side of the road. He figured that she thought that he was truly in trouble and trying her best to save him from getting run over or trampled. It was valiant effort, but he didn't budge at all even when she dung her heels into the ground. Akalak noticed that she was genuinely trying to help him, so he decided that enough was enough and came back land of the living. Duron sat up and looked at Alea and teased with a wink, “Thank you for risking your life to save me from my certain demise, Alea. I will always cherish this moment.” The akalak might not know the human woman vary well, but he figured she wouldn't take a offense to harmless teasing. He was grateful for her effort in trying to move him even if it was futile.

Running a hand through his black hair, the akalak brushed out as much dirt as he could, but he figured that he still had a stray piece of grass still clinging to it. Duron slowly stood up while leaving his heavy backpack on the ground. Stretching out his arms, the cyan man looked at the blond human male and said with a nod, “My name is Duron. Sorry for the scare. I just pushed myself a little to hard...” Even though his muscles were miraculously soothed by the blond humans touch, he knew that he needed to stretch, so he bent over and reached out to touch the toe of his boot. However, he was only able to reach the bottom of his knee. Holding his position, the akalak said without looking up, “What is your name, healer?”

[Wikus]

From the city gates came a swift man, whom was having a heated argument with his ass.

The donkey, whom brayed and brayed constantly in protest with that insistence that could drill a hole in a man's skull, was walking beside the lightly dressed owner as if chasing to give an apology. His owner was, instead of focusing on the donkey's explanation, was instead loudly shouting back at the animal in his own made up language. The senseless words didn't have any other meaning but the anger expressed in them - the anger of being stripped of one's pride. Basket full of colorful flowers hanging from his right forearm, the left hand was waving around a wooden bucket here and there, showing it to the donkey constantly to only invoke more of the animal's protests. Both of the odd companions quickly approached the edge of the road, inseparable no matter how grave their differences went, and with the same harsh wave, the bucket went flying from his hand down to the river.

The bucket full of horse excrement quickly lost itself down the water after a loud impact - it was almost certain that the force and weight it possessed had crushed the bucket on contact with the water. Perhaps it was that sound what instantly silenced the bizarre pair.

Truth was, Wikus was having just about enough of this place. Despite the obvious issues with civilization, his luck seemed to be the worst of it all. He couldn't get rid of the donkey, for nobody would pride themselves with anything that wasn't a steed, so now he had to pay for a stable to bleed him out of the limited resources he possessed. He couldn't take the donkey into the wild and let him free, for the damned would surely follow him back. Even if it took him somewhere and stabbed it's neck with a knife, he still had the wagon to be dragged, and he'd rather drag it himself instead of getting a horse to do it. Buying another donkey was proving to be impossible, too. None would let go of their own, and if they did, they'd be getting rid of stubborn old creatures that would fall dead after a moon. So there he had it - a donkey he couldn't get rid of.

But that wasn't all - the city itself was plagued by those blue men, which apparently owned the city. He hadn't yet seen a blue woman in all it's time here too - in fact, seeing a female was weird and even rare. The few that roamed the streets were so full of themselves, with egos inflated as suns, he couldn't even stand to be nearby. Few had looked at him, and those who did, did so with arrogance and unearned superiority, almost commanding him with their corrupt gazes. Those who weren't blue were most likely Drykas, perhaps the worst of it all. Just the thought of one Drykas in the same place would have been enough for him to turn around and go elsewhere, anywhere, but now it was too late.

And that recent event with the donkey and the horse was just the top of it. The donkey attempted to mount a strider - with was actually pretty amusing - yet, after the steed's rejection, it gave the donkey a bunch of excrement in return for the courtship. That was fine by him. But it wasn't fine for that blue, bloated boar to demand that it was him, Wikus, the one responsible to clean after the horse. He refused, of course, but the mob gathered around to only gaze at the one with the donkey. Thankfully they gave him a shovel, for if he had to clean with his hands, they'd have to clean a couple of bodies too. So there he was, stuck in a city that had disappointed him, without a job, without a home, and only with a donkey.

Reaching inside his open cotton coat, which lacked the sleeves by now, he'd pull out a pipe and a small leather pouch containing the tobacco. Inserting the proper quantity inside the wooden apparatus, he'd once again set pace forward - his loyal companion following silently behind him. Before his eyes, he saw a picture perfect for bad poetry - a Drykas, a 'Bluebble' (Big, blue, and bloated man), and a woman all hugged up and frozen in place. It was a perfect image for a inappropriate jest that he, sadly, lacked the vocabulary for. Slowing down his pace, hoping not to catch their attention, it was the donkey's light bray what refueled the argument once again.

He'd use his now free left hand to spat the donkey's neck, which only brought out more of the annoying long, continuous apologies from the animal, and more of his own senseless language shouted to the animal.

Finally, he'd 'shush' the animal with a commanding tone, and with the previously agressive hand he'd point at the other edge of the road. The donkey stared at him, silent of course, yet it took a repetition of the gesture for it to obey his barefooted master. Not without a last, whiny bray.

Free from the donkey's immediate presence, he'd approach the group as he introduced the pipe in his mouth and, clicking his fingers for their attention, would point towards the object before he rubbed his fingers swiftly together - hoping to get some fire before he could leave them to their businesses.

[Aoren]

“I did nothing, friend. Through the grace of Rak’keli you are mended. I am but a door through which she works her miracles.”Aoren rose to his feet using his staff as a means of supporting himself. He still didn’t trust his footing but with each day things were getting better. He watched with a mildly amused glint in his eyes as the young woman attempted to drag an Akalak man who was nearly twice her size off the side of the road. A feat that was entirely unnecessary as the man roused himself after the blessed aid of Rak’keli. He inclined his head to the Akalak as he introduced himself.

“Well met, Duron. You may call me Aoren.” He rest a hand atop the head of his canine companion. The black dog was large in size coming up to Aoren’s hip. His fur was well kept showing that the Drykas kept him in good health.

“This is Isikai. My friend and protector.” The dog remained silent but attentive. As he spoke, Aoren kept a loose grip on the strands of his djed. The shift in moods within the folds of each aura, Duron’s and the young woman’s, was of little note at that point. However as the Akalak continued his stretches the Drykas Seer offered up a note of help.

“In the future, I might suggest you start your stretches on the ground. It gives your body some time to warm up and adjust to steady motion. That way you can avoid the potential to get lightheaded if you go to standing stretches too quickly. I would also recommend drinking plenty of water.” He glanced to the young woman curious as to whether or not she would choose to go on about whatever journey was ahead of her or stay and socialize for a few moments. Judging from her overall mood, Aoren couldn’t say she was in the best temperament to make idle chat. Distrust. Agitation. The Seer considered looking deeper but was interrupted by a commotion happening not far off. Isikai moved closer to Aoren. The dog adjusted his position to stand between the Seer and whatever ungodly noise was coming from the direction of the city.

Aoren arched an eyebrow turning his head to look down the road to see yet another odd sight. A tall man flailing wildly at a donkey yelling obscenities. The specifics of what those were he really couldn’t guess at. Aoren didn’t understand whatever tongue the man was yelling in. The whole ordeal didn’t last more than a few ticks before the strange man dismissed his animal companion. He was about to be content to leave the seeming madman to his raving when the bearded man sought their attention. Aoren stared at the man uncomprehending for a moment. Then it clicked. His pipe.

He was without any mundane means of producing fire but he had no need of such things. While he hesitated to perform grander feats, lighting a smokepipe was hardly difficult. Bringing up a hand he stirred his djed into motion. Turning his palm upward Aoren produced a bead of res no bigger than a pebble. He divided it into two layers then with a flick of his thoughts transmuted the outer layer to fire. Looking up, Aoren extended his hand offering the flame in his palm to the bearded newcomer. If he was afraid of spooking his newfound company, Aoren showed no signs of it. Riverfall had several practiced reimancers in the city. He knew most of them personally and had even provided guidance and instruction to a few of them.

[Alea Davenport]

Alea stopped pulling on Duron as soon as he started moving under his own power. She accepted his words of thanks with a gracious nod, being not in an appropriate frame of mind to decipher humor. She had immediate plans to put the entire event out of her mind.

While the two men were talking, Alea stepped away, not wanting to risk getting too close to strangers just now. She eyed the dog dubiously, wondering if it was friendly, but so far it had not demonstrated the abundance of personality dogs usually had, and it was sticking rather uncomfortably close to the stranger. She contemplated continuing on her way. Her feet had gotten all the rest they were likely to, and she wasn't keen on hanging around where she could be seen by people.

Her concerns were only strengthened when yet another person came down the road. Alea flinched at the sound of angry, unintelligible shouting, and started edging in the opposite direction. She recognized the donkey before she recognized the man, but she did eventually realize that this was a customer of the Sanctuary. She still wasn't sure what to make of him, and she was not in a mood to take chances.

She watched the interaction between the men, and witnessed something that made her blood run cold. The healer man brought his hand up to the donkey-man's pipe and set his finger on fire! Alea knew what she was seeing. She had seen it before, once or twice. And she knew about mages, knew they were not to be trusted. Her mind filled with a piercing scream of terror, but her body was silent as she turned on her heel and fled down the path at top speed, heedless of her sore feet slapping the road.

OOCI think Alea just made her exit! Unless someone is keen on chasing her

[Duron]

When Aoren told him his name and introduced his dog as Isikai, Duron stopped his stretches and stood straight up and noticed that he was about the same height as the blond human. He gave Aoran a smirk, reached out to scratch behind the animals ear, and said in common without looking at him, “You are like a fountain of wisdom, Aoren.” The akalak knew that he was taking a risk petting a strange dog, but a animal bite could easily be healed with a city full of konti healers. Besides what dog on Mizahar would refuse a scratch behind the ear. If there was one, the Cerulean wouldn't want to meet it. Looking at the blond human, the cyan man said with a nod, “I will take your advice to heart...Thank you.” Looking over at Alea, the young human woman. The akalak noticed that she back away from the blond human. The Cerulean was curious if they had history, but he figured that it would be rude to ask. If they did have history, he had no business getting into affair of two them.

Duron was about to take his leave of the group and continue his jog into the city, but another human leading a donkey approached them. The akalak noticed the human male was lightly dressed with tattoos on his arms. He was blond like the healer in front of him, but he wasn't clean shaven as Aoren. Regardless, humans especially male humans tend to all look the same to akalak, so it was hard stay interested in their appearance. The akalak watched as he command the donkey to be silent than he motioned to his unlit pipe. Duron wasn't quite sure what the man wanted from them, so he stayed silent and crossed his arms. Aoren on the other hand did something the akalak wasn't expecting as he made a tiny ball of fire appear in his hand. The Cerulean immediately thought magic user and eyed the clean shaven blond human with new found curiosity. Unlike some people, Duron wasn't scared of magic users because he knew nothing about magic, so he never experienced the cruel reality of the arcane arts. It never really was a part of his life growing up, so he didn't really had a need to pursue it. The akalak said to Aoren with a smirk, “Nice trick...”

Suddenly out of the corner of his eyes, Duron watched as Alea darted down the road as quickly as she could muster. The akalak looked at the pair of humans with a confused look on his face and said quickly in common to them, “I work with her at the Sanctuary. I am going to see what spooked her. Be right back!” Taking off his heavy backpack, the akalak dropped the leather bag down to ground with a loud thunk. The impact sounded like two rocks hitting the cobble stone. The akalak was about to sprint after the young woman, but he felt like he was being rude to the newcomer and quickly said, “By the way my name is Duron...” Taking a deep breath, the akalak pushed off and started to run after the human woman. As he was running, the akalak knew that he needed to pace himself, so he started to run full speed at first to close the distance than he eventually started to gradually slowed his pace, so he wasn't exhausted when he finally caught up with her. Duron could see the woman had a considerable amount of distance between the two of them, but the akalak figured that she couldn't keep up the pace forever.