I sit on my mount and wait for Portius to give the signal to continue. We have been riding on and off for over six weeks and every sound or instinct sends him into protective mode. It has made the journey that much longer and harder to bare. The men are spread out to scout the area, while Portius stays close beside me; his body is tense and alert. I grit my teeth and hold my tongue.
Patience.
Lycur, with Lyva on his mount, moves up beside me protectively. He's silent as always, but the muscles in his jaw are flexing in irritation. He’s not happy. He sends his own men to investigate with a single movement of his hand. They run to the cover of the trees, strip and change into their other forms. Their speed and strength make them quicker scouts. It’s still a shock to see their massive form
