Read Time: 5mins

There it stood, a beacon of hope for all the people of Tantos, or so they claimed. Nightshade had never been one to believe the words that poured freely from the mouths of the so-called ‘Council of Elders’ and this place was just another one of their intricately woven lies, a safe haven for all who chose to live as a united people, ridiculous.

As the young assassin approached the overwhelming structure, a sharp intake of breath broke her steely demeanour. However she felt about the secrets held within those walls, there was no doubting the sheer scale of its magnificence.

For over four hundred years it had been the very heart of Tantos. What had started as single tower, a trading post for the less warlike nations had now grown into so much more. Slowly at first, but now shifting and reshaping itself on a near daily basis, as if this great construct was a living creature. At one point this may have been nothing more than that single solitary tower, but that was long ago, now it had become a bustling city, the heart that pumped the very life blood of industry to the furthest corners of this world. This was The Citadel.

As a shadow fell upon the noxin her body instantly relaxed; travelling this far south of the Dreadmire had left the apprentice feeling uneasy. Her training had taught her to always seek out the darkness, to stay where the eyes of the masses did not fall, but here, this place was different. The sun burned with an intensity that was alien to her. The bright white stone that formed the city’s ramparts reflected the sunlight leaving nowhere for a trained killer like herself to hide. Not since her life before had she seen herself so vividly, the many scars that now covered her body told an uneasy story under the harsh light of day.

A moment later and the burning light returned, Nightshade felt her hand tighten on the blade concealed at her waist. Since her rebirth she hadn’t been more than an arms length from WrathBringer, her dearest friend, but soon his protection would mean nothing. Casting her eyes skyward, Nightshade could do little but look on in awe as a great flying machine continued to cast shade over sections of the heaving walkway. Of course she had seen airships before but nothing like this, those ships carried two, maybe three of her brethren, but this machine could hold at least fifty; she couldn’t help but observe how perfectly these contraptions could be repurposed for battle, but here they were, shipping about the inhabitants of this sprawling, urban hub.
At that moment the blimp stopped dead, slowly sinking towards the earth. The sound of creaking wood, of ropes stretching and struggling was clear to her highly tuned sense of hearing. Such a huge object had no right to glide so effortlessly through the sky.

As Nightshade stepped through the mighty gateway that controlled the flow of citizens in and out of the city she felt it, The Citadel’s greatest defence.

It started as a tingling in her fingertips before flowing through the rest of her body; her hearing softened, her vision dimmed. WrathBringer pulsed and screamed in her head, then for the first time in three years, fell silent. Nightshade’s heart began to beat like a hammer determined to burst from her chest, as she felt herself weaken in an instant.

“Relax.” She told herself, “You knew this would happen, the city weakens us all.” But her words brought her no comfort. Dropping to her knees her breathing grew lighter and more erratic, she struggled to catch her breath as all around her others went about their business unaffected.

“First time in the city dear?” A long gnarled hand, wrapped in thin green vines gently found a resting place on the apprentices shoulder, “Just breathe, you’ll be okay.”
Nightshade turned in shock towards an elderly Oakthorn who towered above her. Desperate to escape she clawed her way across the cold stone cobbles, still too weak to stand.
“Get away from me mudeater,” She spat out the words with searing bile.

Wrapping her arms around a door frame she pulled herself uneasily to her feet. By now a crowd had begun to form around the pair.

The young noxin stumbled towards the encircling masses; the faces in the crowd lost in a giant swirling blur. Lunging forward she broke through the crowd sending an unsuspecting mari scrambling across the floor. One step then another, and another; Every heavy impact, an unnatural and cumbersome movement as if her legs were not her own.

She had to escape, to find somewhere to collect herself and complete her mission. She turned down a twisted and overarching passage before squeezing between two tightly knit buildings, the sound of commotion slowly faded into the distance. Finally she found herself alone in a quiet dimly lit alleyway. Gasping for breath, her lungs felt as if they were on fire, the faint taste of copper running down the assassin’s throat. She doubled over, hands on knees and attempted to calm herself.

‘What would Master Icus think if he could see me now?’ She thought. His gruff unyielding voice cut through her thoughts, “Is this who you really are? A scared little girl. After all these years you’re still the weak little creature I found in those slums. I should have left you for the beasts.”

She forced those moments of her past from her mind, as her breathing gradually returned to normal. Tonight she would complete her mission and reveal the Citadel for what it truly was, a castle built upon the sand.

Read Time: 3mins

Thousands of voices had been silenced in a matter of hours. So few able to escape the imminent threat; watching as the flames consumed all of those that had called this place home. Ancient trees residing here since the first days of this world, powerless to break from the roots that dug so deeply, now lost forever.

Stumbling through the smoke it came, neither forest nor flame, but something tangled between the two. In the same way as its physical form sat in uneasy alliance, so too did its subconscious, veering quickly from burning rage to profound, all-encompassing sorrow.

What had become of this place? Surely this is not how it had always been? Searching its memory for answers, it found nothing but deep, unshaking, anger. “Who am I? Where am I?” The answers, lost in the pit of its mind.

The lost soul stretched out its palm, grasping at the ashen remains of a once great oak, the touch reducing what had remained to nothing more than cinders. Pulling away, it took a moment. The bright white ash, a stark contrast against the charcoal black of its own skin; skin now covered in deep, jagged scores that revealed a core of roaring heat.

Onward it travelled. As the final glimmers of daylight faded, the lost soul continued. It would not stop for rest or thirst. Its only desire, the hope of finding someone or something to guide its journey, to help recover all that had been lost.

Coming to a sudden halt, it spotted something; the scorched head of an axe, still shining in the moonlight, buried deep within a tree’s severed trunk.

Then it struck. A flood of searing rage and the memory of what had happened in this place. A horde of cruel beasts cutting and burning their way through these once beautiful lands. Their weapons of war destroying everything they fell upon; whether tree or oakthorn, their ruthless response had been swift.

For a fleeting second he saw them; his brothers and sisters falling in defence of this sacred land. Their numbers too few to stem the tide of such an unstoppable force. Where were their reinforcements? Where was the Warden? Defence of these lands was the duty he had sworn. He should have been here leading the charge, falling by their side.

Had he truly fallen? If so, what now stood in his place? Looking upon his charred and broken husk, he felt neither alive nor dead; an entity lost between two worlds.

If he was to be damned, then he would find meaning in this new life. He would become vengeance for this once great land.

All who had a hand in what happened here would be held to account. Whether umbron or oakthorn, they would answer for their sins.

Read Time: 2mins

Where only moments ago a tired and rusted sentinel had stood, was now little more than flaming scraps of metal and a large crater carved into the sand.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about!” Gatox wildly proclaimed, dropping the still smoking Ion-Blaster to his waist, excitement flowing through the energetic lieutenant.

“Another month or so of trials and I think it’ll be about ready for battlefront testing,” a wide-eyed scientist shouted, as he removed a thick pair of noise defenders from his head.

“A month! She’s ready to go now,” Gatox proclaimed as he pulled the blaster back to his shoulder, locking it into place.

“But Gatox, sir, we haven’t even tried pushing the output coupling beyond 10 percent, doing so could prove to be… unpredictable.”

Bringing a clawed hand up to the side of the cannon, Gatox twisted a large mechanical dial, the hum of the prototype weapon growing exponentially, as a digital readout flickered quickly from a dull ten percent to a blindingly bright ninety percent.

“No time like the present!” Gatox yelled, his voice drowned out by the cannon’s roar.

“Sir, I must advise you that this could be seriously dangerous,” the already nervous doctor beginning to hop from foot to foot, with a mixture of frustration and terror.

Gatox, caught in the moment, could see the mouth of his worried companion flapping ferociously, but the fragile words did little to cut through the racket of his latest invention.

Turning his attention back to the junkyard that had become their unofficial testing grounds, Gatox squinted as he searched for a target. A highly stacked tower of decommissioned military paraphernalia, instantly catching his attention.

Gently squeezing on the trigger, he could hardly hold back his glee as the cannon oscillated with life.

“Boom,” he whispered, as the trigger reached full compression.

The wave of energy that erupted from the blaster sent Gatox crashing across the desert sand, as it flew uncontrollably off of its trajectory, missing the desired target and tearing through the central support column of a giant crane. For a moment, the crane stood silently in place. Then with a deep groan, the remaining struts began to snap and buckle under its tremendous weight, sending the crane’s boom tumbling towards the desert floor. The impact creating a shockwave of sand and dust that billowed into the air for miles around.

“Another month or so of trials and I think it’ll be about ready for battlefront testing,” Gatox announced, brushing himself down before turning to leave.

“Oh, and doctor,” he leaned towards his distraught companion, “you really should be more careful with such dangerous equipment, what if it got into the hands of a madman!”

Read Time: 2mins

“There she blows! Off the starboard side,” yelled the relentlessly upbeat Scuttle from her perch upon the crow’s nest.

“There she blows! Off the starboard side,” yelled the relentlessly upbeat Scuttle from her perch upon the crow’s nest.

“That’s the port side,” came the flat call of Driftwood; the aged, oakthorn pirate, without looking up from the ragged map that sat awkwardly on the tiny, wooden stool.

“There she blows! Off the port side,” she screamed again, undeterred by Driftwood’s lack of interest.

Far below the crew of The Soaring Sludgefin, the peak of a mountain broke through the dense layer of clouds; its knife-edge ridge covered in a fresh blanket of snow.

Hopping with excitement, Captain Jolti tugged on a rope running towards the tiny airship’s blimp, a worn fabric panel peeled away from its surface sending hot air flowing out of the balloon, instantly sending the ship into a nosedive.

What started out as the thin peak of a mountain quickly revealed itself to be far larger; spreading out into a tremendous, jagged mound.

“Pull up!” Came the delighted squeal of the young navigator, as the delicate ship brushed against the edge of the rocky surface, sending splinters of wood in all directions.

With lightning-fast reactions, Jolti released the line and pulled on a large bronze lever. A blast of the ship’s ignition refilled the balloon, breaking the wild descent and bringing it to rest softly at the foot of the mountain.

“How many times do we have to go through this, that is not how you land a ship!” Driftwood’s usually soft tone, now clearly charged with frustration.

“It was fast though!” The wicked enthusiasm of Captain Jolti was too much to even entertain Driftwood’s concerns.

Sliding down the crow’s nest, before landing nimbly on the deck Scuttle gazed open-mouthed across the scene laid out in front of her. Ancient ruins ran as far as the eye could see; a thick tangle of vines and other plant life growing in and around the structures that had stood undisturbed for hundreds of years.

“We’ve really found it this time!” Scuttle gasped.

“The home of The Ancient.”

Read Time: 2mins

I see it, Vela; that glint in your eyes, a hunger to understand the unknown. It has driven our people for generations, but tonight I fear your quest for knowledge will result in little more than stern words from your father.

Oh, child, already you know how to get your way, you know this old lady loves to share a tale or two. Very well then, one last story before you sleep.

Maybe you’ve heard it at night when the world is at peace. The scratching that comes from deep within the earth. Or perhaps you’ve felt the ground moving, shifting like the tide, if only for a moment?

Earthquakes? Oh no, child, those tremors are not caused by anything as simple as the world’s breath; it is the march of the swarm.

Yes, the mantix. Once they would break through the soil in small packs, hunting for food. Now the earth teems with their presence. Versatile and deadly, the mantix have long found ways to adapt themselves to whatever environment they find themselves in, but now they move as part of a greater whole.

But what has brought about this change? Well, that is simple, their king has stirred. Do not look at me like that young lady, I may be long in years, but my mind is as quick as a corvid. I would not have believed it either, had I not gazed upon him myself, and what a creature he is!

He towers far above his subjects, wielding a blade as longs as a tree, his crest home to a crown of horns. The mantix follow his every command without the need to utter a word. His eyes, glowing with the energy of the Rift. But that is not the most terrifying part of this story.

I have heard tales of entire villages, many no smaller than this, left deserted. Men, women, and children missing, but not a single object out of place; as if the very ground swallowed them up as they dreamed.

All of this leaves me with one uneasy thought: is the king truly the leader of this swarm or does something else lurk in those tunnels?

Wait, what is that I hear? Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing. Sweet dreams, granddaughter.

Grandmother Cassini

Read Time: 6mins

“Do come along, it is already eight minutes past the hour. Must I remind you, Bloom and Scorch are expected to behave professionally, so your lack of urgency casts us, once again, in a less than desirable light!”

His temperament betrayed the small and irritable oakthorn’s well-spoken manner; bouncing around his sizeable, rocky companion with relentless vigour, he stopped only to push against the heel of the great everok to no success. Slowly, Bloom and Scorch made their way through the lower pass of the Citadel.

“Broken.” The deep, simplistic rumble of the everok’s voice came like a rockslide.

“Quite so, apparently at one time, this was THE place to live, the very pinnacle of high society,” Glancing down a gloomy alleyway, the smaller of the pair noticed something agile and scaly disappearing into a pile of debris, “how times change.”

Finally, the partners stopped their procession; in front of them stood yet another dilapidated building, similar to the fifty or so they had passed only moments before, only from this one hung a sign cobbled together from old pieces of wood, the words ‘Reckless Spirits’ carved into the boards. The building’s aged, wooden frame misshapen to the point that it leaned heavily into the alleyway, looked as if it might collapse at any moment.

“Here.” Boomed the monstrous everok, attempting to peer through a crack in the building’s wall, his words neither a question nor a statement; at the same time, his small friend strided towards the door before drumming his hand against it.

For a moment Bloom and Scorch stood in silence, then with the sound of a heavy bolt creaking, a small wooden slat, situated at the top of the door slid open. A gruff, purple muzzle and bloodshot eye pushed against the hole, searching for a moment for the source of the knock, before slamming closed.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” The oakthorn pointed towards the ground.

Without a moment’s hesitation, his companion dropped to his knees as his spritely friend scrambled onto his back; knocking once more upon the door.

The eye quickly found its place, once again, at the door’s viewing slot.

“What?” Came a deep voice from the other side of the door.

“Good evening barkeep, I request entry to your charming establishment to purchase refreshment for my travelling companion and myself.”

The single eye locked on to the well-spoken oakthorn. “We’re closed,” Then once more the viewing slot slammed closed.

The patrons of the decaying tavern came in all shapes and sizes; a pair of chimchu spoke in hushed words with a mysterious stranger, while mari musicians tuned peculiar instruments. In the darkest corner sat a single yikona, shying away from a pack of energetic kreebal pounding their hands against a thick wooden bench, sending ale splashing in all directions.

The kreebal’s excitability grew to an uncontrollable roar as the soundly bolted door was suddenly torn from its hinges, sending shards of wood and dust in all directions as the pair made their entrance.

“Sorry to impose,” Came the nonchalant call of the oakthorn, hopping onto a bar stool. In a quick well-practised gesture, he dropped a hefty bag of coins in front of the less than amused bartender, his single eye now actively avoiding the oakthorn’s gaze.

Stepping further into the tavern the everok’s head struck a chandelier which broke away from its aged chains, crashing to the floor.

The room plunged into silence as another bag of coins clattered onto the table.

“Now that you’re all paying attention, your assistance would be very much appreciated in the apprehension of one Khione Velon.” The oakthorn paced across the bar. “Bloom received reliable information that he frequents this establishment with concerning regularity. So if you would all remain seated and enjoy your drinks, this will be dealt with as quickly as possible.”

“Possible.” Repeated the everok.

Several of the tavern’s patrons turned their attention to their drinks, as Bloom and Scorch made their way through the pack, their eyes moving from one nervous customer to the next, each one shuffling their stall out of the way as they passed.

Then came a clattering of bottles, as the reclusive yikona attempted to make his escape from the closing pair. Sprinting from the table, Khione found himself caught in the whirlwind of excitable kreebal, the pack cheering for his pursuers, and what had now become an exciting evening.

Dropping to his knees, Khione slid under the bench, which was immediately sent crashing across the room, shaking the very foundations of the building as it impacted against a wall.

“Come along now sir, let us talk this through like the gentlemen we are,” Bellowed the little oakthorn, as he trailed only inches behind the fugitive.

Dashing for the doorway, the yikona found himself within arms reach of freedom, only to be sharply torn backwards by a large stone hand on his collar. The hand lifted him effortlessly from the floor, leaving him swinging awkwardly from his thick furred jacket. Then with a jolt, he dropped onto a stall.

Opposite the nervous man, Bloom and Scorch took their position. The smaller of the pair leaning upon the table.

“Three cups of your finest.” He shouted towards the barkeep before turning his attention back towards Khione.

“A pleasure to meet you Mr Velon, as I’m sure you are now clearly aware, Bloom and Scorch are paying you this visit at the behest of Mistress Shadeborn. I must ask, do you recall the deal that was struck between the lady in question and yourself?”

The shellshocked yikona sat in silence.

“Mr Velon, your cooperation will make this process considerably smoother.”

“Yes, I remember.” The man’s voice came as little more than a whisper.

“Good, good.” A grin crept across the oakthorn’s face.

“And you remember the contract that was signed?”

“Yes.” He murmured again, his eyes never breaking their gaze from the table.

“Well Mr Velon, I do hope the arrangement has been to your satisfaction. However, Bloom and Scorch are here to collect payment on said contract, which I believe comes in the form of…” The gleeful oakthorn, pulled a scroll from his pack, unravelling it all the way to the floor as his eyes scanned the text.

“Soul.” Came the call of the, until now, silent everok.

“Yes, Yes! Quite right, one soul. The aforementioned soul is now the property of Mistress Shadeborn.”

“But she tricked me!” The man yelled in desperation. “This isn’t what I meant!”

“Now sir, Bloom and Scorch are not here to discuss the finer points of your arrangement. You are conversing with simple collectors of valuable objects, delivery men if you will, moving items from one owner to the next, however…”

The oakthorn took a large swig of the dark brown liquid that had just arrived on their table. “Bloom is not without a vice of his own. How about a wager? If you win, then, unfortunately for Mistress Shadborn, you were never found. You disappeared somewhere into the wilds. But, if Bloom wins, your soul is forfeit, as is the whereabouts of the stone.”
For the first time, Khione looked up from the table, his eyes wide, reluctantly he nodded.

“Good, good. A simple wager then, one that offers you a choice. Would you prefer to compete against Bloom in a test of wits or a test of strength?”

The nervous man looked down at his small opponent, weighing up his options.

“Strength.” He called, mustering all of the courage he could find.

“Are you sure of that?” The oakthorn asked through gritted teeth. Once again the yikona nodded, his breathing growing more rapid by the moment.

“As you wish,” The oakthorn turned to his associate, “Bloom, please see that Mr Velon’s request is fulfilled.”

“But I thought…” Came the call of the man, his voice suddenly cut short, as the imposing figure of Bloom dragged him in one swift movement from his stall towards the shattered doorway.
Finishing his drink, Scorch jumped from his stall and made his way to the exit; stopping only to throw another purse of coins towards the bartender.

“May Bloom and Scorch wish you all, the most delightful of evenings.” Scorch bowed cordially, then disappeared into the night.

Read Time: 2mins

To wear the mantle of Deathshifter is to be plucked from the herd.” The voice echoed around the temples high ceilings, dissipating into the deep-set alcoves that made up the delicate yet bold structure.

The orange glow of candles licked softly against the thick, blood red robes of the twelve masked individuals that gathered around the central altar, of this holy place, sending distorted shadows stretching across the room.

“To wear the mantle of Deathshifter is to put the whole, before the self.” The tall, slender man at the head of the pack called again, as he raised the chalice of dark black liquid above his head.
A young noxin woman lay motionless upon the marble altar. Her relaxed demeanor betrayed by a sudden sharp inhalation of breath, and the beads of sweat gathering upon her exposed navel.

Slowly the pack leader lowered the vessel towards the woman’s face. Without prompting the girl opened her mouth, and the tar-like substance poured from the old cup.

For a moment all was still, then without warning it began, writhing with unnatural force, her hands clasping to the sides of the altar as every muscle in her body contracted. Her head jolted frantically from side to side, as the black substance ran from her clenched teeth. Her thrashing, growing more and more erratic like her body could break at any moment. Then as quickly as it had begun, it was over.

Silence filled the room, even the faintest whisper of the girls breathing, now lost. For a moment they all stood, bathed in silence; as one by one the congregation blew out their candles, darkness enveloping the room.

“To wear the mantle of Deathshifter is to accept one’s end.” his voice pierced the constricting darkness.

With the sudden striking of a match, a single candle returned to life. The girl who laid upon the altar, now crouched upon its gleaming surface; the black substance that at one point poured from her mouth now flowing through the veins of her arms and hands, towards fingers that were now sharp like blades. Darkness swirled in the girl’s eyes and a wicked toothed grin spread across her face as she jerked her knees towards her midriff like a beast preparing to pounce.

“To wear the mantle of Deathshifter is to embrace one’s new beginning.”

Read Time: 2mins

No star in all of the heavens shone as brightly as Solis. A guiding light for sailors during long and arduous voyages, she protected her people and in turn they worshipped her as a goddess.

As time passed, Solis became distanced from her followers; where once the song of their adoration was greeted with humble joy, pride slowly grew as she craved their worship.

Those who prayed the loudest would be blessed with safe travel; while others whose offerings she found wanting would be left as little more than broken timber upon the shore.

As tears fell for those lost men, Calak found life; a spirit of noble cause, drawn to Solis to see her answer for traitorous deeds.

Upon their meeting, a battle like no other tore across the skies. Oceans raged and swelled, thunder crashed and lightning dug great trenches through the earth.

Days turned to weeks in a battle that seemed to have no end. Realising he could never defeat one that had grown so powerful, Calak drove his mighty axe into the goddess’s chest before thrusting himself upon her blade, in that moment binding the pair in an inseparable embrace.

To this day the pair remain locked in that endless duel, their light guiding all who look upon them.

Read Time: 3mins

Aspray of fresh ocean water struck Nemi’s face, as once again he found himself plunging deep below the waves. His battle with the animal had been a glorious one, spanning both day and night.

The great poison-fang, cut through the ocean with deathly speed, weaving from left to right, in its attempt to escape the stubborn mari. These beasts were known for their violent temperament and venomous bite, but this poison-fang in particular, had grown to legendary status.

Over the years many had tried to capture the creature; whether hunting for an unmatched trophy or purely with the desire to make some quick coin, none had been successful. Nemi, on the other hand, had plans of his own for the creature.

Driving his knees into the fish’s spine, he attempted to stabilise his position with little success. Banking quickly to its right the mammoth fish sent the stubborn hunter crashing into a delicate coral reef, sending smaller sealife scattering in the sudden flurry of excitement.

Pulling the trident that adorned his back from its sheath Nemi slowly took aim. He didn’t have long, in a few moments time his prey would be out of range, but if he didn’t aim carefully, he risked damaging the prize.

Holding his breath for a moment, he sent the weapon carving through the water, towards its target, a trail of rope dangling in its wake. His aim was without fault, the trident piercing the thin membrane of one of the animal’s fins.

A jet of bubbles escaped the fish’s mouth, as it unleashed a silent roar, bringing it to an abrupt halt. Swinging back towards its attacker, the poison-fang revealed how it earned its name, glistening beads of thick, venomous liquid began to excrete from its razor-sharp teeth. This venom was known to be so strong one drop would instantly incapacitate even the largest of Tantos’ inhabitants; such desirable properties had lead to vials of the sought after liquid fetching a high price on the Citadel’s underground market, by assassins and other nefarious types.

Then suddenly and without warning, it burst into action, making a charge towards the defenceless mari.

Nemi watched on as the creature; once desperate to escape, now rushed at him with one clear intention. His eyes tracked the magnificent beast as it darted from left to right, growing closer by the second; his hand and waist wrapped tightly around the line that now bound the pair.

Seconds before impact Nemi leapt from the edge of the coral outcrop, diving towards the seabed. His dive pulled the rope tight and jolted the monsters fin, causing the wild beast to collide with the reef; the impact sending broken shards of coral in all directions.

Tugging on the cord, Nemi began to pull the fish towards himself, hand over hand he fought against it, as it thrashed and snapped; tangling itself more by the second.

Finally, the creature was within arm’s reach once more. Mustering the last of his strength, Nemi threw himself upon the beast and pulled his spear from its fin in one swift movement. Lunging forward and narrowly missing the venomous fangs he locked the trident into the recesses of the creature’s mouth.

Drawing himself close to the fish, he clasped one side of the spear in each hand, as if locked in some violent embrace. Then removing a blade from his ankle, he cut through the rope that bound the poison-fang’s movement.

Its recovery was instantaneous, filled with energy the poison-fang burst forward, again looking to displace the mari hunter. This time, however, Nemi was ready for its reaction, tugging back hard on his weapon, he took control of the animal’s movement, steering it towards the ocean’s surface.

Breaking the crest of a wave; the pair emerged upon the ocean’s surface, neither able to fight any longer.

“A good fight.” The hunter croaked, coughing up a throat of cold salty water, as his hand found its place on the animal’s snout. Kicking his legs softly, against his new mount; the creature slowly began its long journey back to shore.

“Good girl. Tonight we rest, for tomorrow, with your help the real hunt begins!”