The next day they traveled hard west. Searon carried Anaela in his arms. He wished his horse, Stripes, was still alive. The horse had been his companion for years, and he missed him dearly. None of them had horses. It made traveling take much longer than they desired.
After half the day walking, they decided to take a break. Sh’on decided to travel through the forest in search of fruit and vegetables. Since they were approaching wood kheshlarn territory, they dared not search for game, though Searon’s stomach grumbled for a steak.
Sitting around a fire, trying to warm up, Searon heard a branch crack. He glanced up to see Sh’on stepping into camp with his hands above his head. Behind him, two wood kheshlars wielded bows with nocked arrows pointed at his head.
“Greetings, friends,” Searon
