He did not know what to do, and that frustrated him. They would need rest soon, could not keep such a punishing pace for long, but he could not risk a camp so out in the open. Not when a predator was so close. A fire could promise to frighten off a few creatures, but too large of one in such surroundings could easily become free of its confines and put the entire plane ablaze.
A tempting thought, if it meant a barricade of flame between them and a beast intent on seeing them as a meal.
But the thought was a terrible one, and with the dryness of the season would likely lead the devastation of everything in the fire’s path, including the wood that he was beginning to believe had merely been a figment of his imagination.
Penryn’s steps were getting slower, but still she did not complain. She had meekly asked when breath allowed her to do so if the creature was the same as the tracks he had asked her about, and he had to admit that he did not know.
Another part of him worried that he had frightened her for nothing, that something innocuous had spooked the herd and he was being overcautious and exhausting them both for no reason.
Indecision weighed on him heavily. They could not keep on like this and the day was coming to a close. A hunt could not last so long, could it? And they were fleeing when the beast was likely already feasting on one of its prey, unaware they had ever been so near.
“Penryn,” Grimult said at last, his steps slowing. It took her a few paces more to realise he was no longer directly beside her, and she gave him a worried, quizzical look in return. “We should stop,” he decided. “Or at the very least slow down.”
Her attention shifted, no longer upon him but behind, from where they had come. “Is it safe?”
It took a great deal to admit it. “I’ve no idea.”
Penryn bit her lip, the answer as distressing to her as to him. A part of him wondered if it would be worth it to track down the beast itself and prevent it from following them with quick work of his sword. But that held risks of its own, most particularly that some other danger could find Penryn while he dealt with their current foe.
There were no good answers, and that troubled him greatly. He wanted her safe, he wanted their path to be simple. They had clung as much as they could to the direction they were meant to be headed, but he was afraid they had strayed slightly. They would know better when the stars came out and he could reorient them to where they were meant to be.
Penryn moved the lantern to another hand, her expression thoughtful. “I would like to continue on, if you are in agreement.” An apologetic smile, one that was wholly unnecessary when she had done or said no wrong. “I think I would rather have better shelter than this tonight.”
He could not argue against that, not when he knew he would not sleep, not when keeping watch might save both of their lives. So he nodded and her shoulders relaxed in some relief. “Slower might be a bit better though,” she confirmed. “I am certain I will feel all that running in the morning.”
That was likely true, but there was no point in dwelling on future pains. His wings even felt a soreness that they had not since his earliest days as a novice flyer, but he was not going to admit that.
There was no shame in weakness, but there was no great pride in it either, so perhaps it did not need mentioning at all.
The walk became more of a trudge the longer they kept going, Penryn’s lantern invaluable for ensuring they did not stumble along the way. He was too aware of every noise surrounding them, the stillness almost oppressive as his ears and eyes strained to note any hint of danger. Night winged creatures came out in droves, taking to the skies and feasting on insects that had the misfortune to cross their paths.
From what little he knew of such creatures, they tended to have shelters. Caves, mostly, or some other dark hole where they might wait out the daylight. Open lands like this meant nothing to them which might mean...
Penryn’s steps faltered and he reached out unthinkingly to steady her, only to realise she had stopped on purpose. Her hand was outstretched, guiding the way with her lantern, and he glanced at her face and saw her confusion there.
“Do you see that?” she asked quietly.
He was not certain he did, but he would make the attempt. The urge was there to take the lantern from her, to hold it up higher and investigate for himself, but he had not abandoned so much of his teachings as to take the sacred flame from its keeper altogether. They were already abusing it by using it as one might a common torch.
The first smattering of trees, he could see that. As if winds had taken their acorns just a bit beyond where their brothers and sisters had laid, the outcasts of somewhere greater.
But that was not what caught Penryn’s attention, and he frowned as he made out the basic structure.
A dwelling.
His hand went to his sword as soon as the word came to mind. Exhaustion was taking hold, and he was well aware that he was not at his best should he need to spar with a person concerned with their trespass.
Except there should be no person. Not out here where it was forbidden.
For some inexplicable reason, Penryn began moving toward it.
“What are you doing?” Grimult asked, not daring to touch even in an attempt to halt her movements, but knowing they were off their rightful path and that this was not meant for their eyes.
Perhaps there were sages stationed every so often, ever watchful for the
