YUVEN

I wonder how many 'lost pets' Ineha has in that pile of hers. Tell people to put up simple rune fences at the cardinal points of their lands, and they act like you shit in their rose gardens. He scowled, able to hear a mismatch of voices from previous jobs that could've been avoided had they followed instructions. Rune fences? How dare you suggest to me a solution to a persistent 'pest' problem. You're a Storm Warden, he switched the voice to a shrill one. Do your job. We don't need rune fences. We already have stone fences. Gods, Fenrer has way too much patience with those types. What I wouldn't give to shove my fist down their—

Fenrer turned to him as they headed for the stables at the exits of the Fallholt. "You're buzzing."

"You think I can tell people to buzz off?" he questioned. "I hate repeating myself."

Deep in the throes of the months of sunfire, the horses roamed freely in the safety of the paddock. With the handy invention of rune fences to protect them on the off chance Derelicts made their way through the wards around the city. Amazing. Yuven snorted, while the hostler cleaned out the stable before switching their attention to Fenrer, and the two got into a conversation he had no interest in being a part of. I prefer hippogryphs over horses, personally... Though hippogryphs rarely got moved out to postings. Storm Wardens had to rely on horses and other sorts of carrier creatures. He milled about the rounded gate, where a few Storm Wardens sat in the guideposts. Playing cards, from their distractible expressions.

Ugh... Ice swirled around his palm, but he stopped at the clop of hooves against stone. Fenrer wrapped the reins around his knuckles as he came to a stop in front of him.

"I won't be too long," he said as he moved around the side of the Dyrin horse to haul himself into the saddle.

Yuven eyed the long stretch of road, past the paddy fields against the water-soaked hills from the distant rivers and nearby wells, irrigated into better places. Aspen forests rose behind some of the knolls. Closer to civilization, but never out of reach from Derelicts. "I thought you'd wait to hear how roads are."

"The outpost isn't too far out," Fenrer said as his horse tapped at the ground. Another being who hated wasted time. Yuven reached out to pat the horse's muzzle, but shook his head.

"Few days ago they found a corpse on the way to Azahama," Yuven argued. "Chunks of flesh missing. Bloody piles..." He gripped the reins. "Don't forget we neighbour a gorge of Derelicts, Fenrer. Only reason they haven't gotten out is due to ancient storm spires."

"How good of you to worry, but I'm not heading in the direction of Azahama, and a patrol recently came from the outpost." Fenrer grinned down at him, but it echoed with a hollowness. Nothing out of the ordinary, but he forgot the last time Fenrer smiled with the sun behind his green eyes, where the irides swirled to take in the flow of the echoes.

"Worry? You have a crescent blade, no need to worry," Yuven grumbled, hating every minute of the way Common webbed in his throat. "I am not Neven." Gods... he's a mother-hen if I've ever seen one. What else do I expect? He'd probably make sure Fenrer has all his food packed and feeling well, so I have to do it for him when he's not here. Fenrer doesn't take care of himself otherwise. Too busy stressing himself out over idiots.

Without the fondness their Guardian had for them, he doubted they'd have made it very far as children. It made it hard to not be grateful to him. Too bad his hatred for their home country combatted Neven's absolute love for it.

Fenrer tipped his head forward while the horse came closer to the gate. "Neven would probably be proud of fussing," their Guardian's name came out of Fenrer's mouth with a rolled r after the v, slight as a small wave. "You can say you're worried, I won't tell anyone."

"Just do your job," Yuven bit. "Try not to get eaten on the way back. I'll feel it." He hesitated when his throat scratched, and tightened his grip on the reins. "Also, ignore pigheads. We're Storm Wardens—" He gave a small tug on the rope Fenrer held, forcing him to pay attention when his gaze drifted to the left. "Their opinions matter not. You know it's a Derelict causing problems — not whatever they believe is causing it. You kill it, and don't waste time or energy on anything else. They choose ignorance, don't tolerate it."

"I won't." Fenrer tugged the reins back into his hands. "Thank you, Yuven."

As Fenrer rushed through the rocky sungate, he drew a map of the immediate road in his head. Any landmarks on the way to the outpost, with Azahama to the south, in the heartlands of Dyrin, where after long stretches of forests and fields laid the Hanekan border. He rides east, away from the gorge, which lies to our north, if he takes longer than three to five bells on horsefoot, something has gone wrong. He lifted his head to the sun striking the clouds silver. Myl'la... soon, I swear. I hope you think of me all the way in Elvkana... But a couple Turns was a lot of time. Time he couldn't afford to spend on people's stupidity. Fingers clenched into a fist, he left the eastward sungate to head to the south.

He avoided the close quarters of any crowds, though Fallholt was tiny next to the grand city of Azahama. Some Storm Wardens went about their business on patrols, or on their breaks to speak quick words with the townsfolk. Everything worked without argument from the current of motion. Space distorted around him to reveal further into the environment through his magick, until he walked underneath the south sungate and onto the uneven cobbled road. Every so often, a carriage clattered onto a different road ahead of him, but he followed Ineha's directions and the letter's woven signature from the writer's magick flowing through ink. It fell into peaceful silence, but he never dropped his guard around the shadows of the underbrush. Too often he awoke to the bells of alarm, where more often than not, a weary traveller tried their luck in the night.

Only to meet with a grisly end.

He came across the previous site of the Derelict feast a couple days prior. Dried blood had yet to be washed from the cracks in the cobble. Against the tree, nothing but an unrecognisable shape of a person, and from Fenrer's appraisal, magick drained by a Derelict. It meant somewhere nearby, a gorged Derelict hunted for more of the primordial force. Storm Wardens wheeled the body away to avoid more Derelicts to take their fair share of meat, but it was no less troublesome.

More patrols in this area for now until we find the thrice-damned thing. Yuven touched the wrapped hilt of his crescent blade, which pulsed with ice in the fog. Shadows always shifted a certain way when a Derelict used the flow. Sinister and hungry, as if the environment itself could feast on bones. Fields hushed with the wind coming in from the ocean, but he kept on his path through the forest which separated them from Azahama. But gods forbid people take safer routes. 'Faster and efficient'. Isn't efficient if you're dead.

He rounded a marker on the path to his destination, instead of walls and a sungate, it was a small stone fence and metal openings. Some houses hugged the centre, where runestones sat beside warding lamps. Better than usual, but... still extremely base. He opened the metal gate to make his way into the small community. Hens clucked in a small area behind one house, where their coop hugged the stone framework, safe from a particularly lazy Derelict. So many things wrong with the placement of their defences. Small fixes would be enough to heighten the strength of the ward. It all depends if the people will bother. Some do, most look at us and see glorified pest exterminators... as if we hunt rats and not.... His thoughts wandered off when he reached the centre of the community, where a well provided water from the rainy seasons. Hm.

He brushed his hand along the polished stone. Well taken care of. One half of the cover off, he leaned forward to peer down into the depths. Ice crystal in his hand, it drifted off with a breath and floated down into the abyss. White light cast on the damp stones, until it disappeared into a ripple. One moment passed. Two. Three. Well, this isn't a culprit for Derelict activity here... which arguably isn't saying much. He noted the freshened runes on the outside of the wells, pressing his own hand against them to make sure. Tainted water is where it always starts...

Yuven lifted his head back to the house with the coop of chickens, before counting each one along the centre. Letter of assistance in his hand, magick pulsed through him as he came closer to the source. The house nearest the metal gate and the cardinal runestones. Eyebrow raised, he moved up the front step to knock hard on the door. They didn't answer, and it took all of him not to scream out at the waste of his time. Agitation flowed through and sent heat through his head. Footsteps on the other side of the door perked him up when it creaked open an inch.

"Hello?" an older gentleman with white-streaked hair asked, quivering in the shadows.

"You requested aid from Fallholt hall," Yuven said, pressing the door open further. "Yuven Traye, at your service." Hand up to his chest, he gave a slight bow, but never enough to kneel. And please, for the love of everything light and shadow, don't be another pighead.

"A Storm Warden?" His quivering stopped, and went to his knees from the way they knocked together. "You came?"

"Usually I get 'about time'." Yuven raised his hand forward. "We talk inside of what you wrote in your letter for aid, yes?"

"Oh, o-of course." The older gentleman shuffled further into his house. Paper doors led into different parts of the house, all the way to the back garden where the fence hugged the edges through the window. A kettle bubbled on the runestove, where fire runes clicked and hissed underneath the coverings. "Tea?"

"No," Yuven said, then peered around the house for any openings. "I need to know a couple things."

The older gentleman stood by the stove, lips pressed in a nervous line. "I will try my best to answer."

"Have you noticed state of your community runefence?" Yuven asked. "It's recommended to refresh cardinal stones at end of the week during either high sun or low moon. Anyone else here?"

His gaze flicked to the outside window, and he shrunk into his shoulders. "There are others, but I am the one who does most of the rune refreshing, and my magick isn't what it used to be," the old man admitted. "I run out of energy faster, especially in the heat of these sunfire months."

Oh, even better... "They don't help?"

"Mostly reluctant, as they often travel to Azahama."

Ugh... "Where did you last leave the pet? What is its name?"

"Yuil, and over there." The old man pointed at the painted door. "She usually isn't so interested in the outside, so I do not know where she could've gone. I have asked around, but no one else has seen her."

"Any way to slip underneath door to front step?"

"No."

Yuven leaned towards the direction of his finger to peek at the stability of the front door frame. "Creaky."

"I need to get the hinges fixed."

Hand around the handle, he twisted it both ways. He allowed it to sit, until pushing the smallest breath of wind magick into the centre. It rattled loud, and the old man flinched.

"What do you think happened to Yuil?"

Without answering the old man's question, he paced the rest of the way to the back door. Back to the outside with an irritating shadow, he peered around the garden. Knee against stone, he raised a gentle hand to a wilting flower, though the dirt had sponged up the previous day's rain. Grabbing a pinch, he rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger.

Wind whispered through his feathers, and he lifted his head up at the subtle shift.

"Did you leave Yuil when you last saw her?"

"I had to refresh the runes," the old man answered.

"From the greatest creatures of drakes and wyverns, to the smallest flower... all must be protected," the oath rang in his head as he lifted himself up to his knees to head for a dark patch on the stone wall, where one runestone held no magick within its crystal pockets.

All it takes is one small opening.

"You said magick was not as it was?" Yuven asked as he grabbed the runestone to take it off its post.

"Indeed, it doesn't have the same oomph of my younger days."

And even then... Blood swirled up to his throat. It matters not the age... just sometimes that is how things end up. Yuven pushed his magick through the runestone, and the crystals shone with white snow. "It is possible you left home as you did your rune refresh, and Yuil waited." He placed the runestone back on the small pillar of cobble. "Anyone come visit you?"

"Not usually."

I suppose how the animal got out doesn't really matter. Derelicts find a way, and I must kill it if it's nearby. Unless...

"When did this happen?"

"A couple days prior."

"Were bells ringing?"

"Yes, I woke up, and that's what prompted me to freshen the runes."

From the edges of Fallout, taking down that weary traveller... possibly moved down here to have a snack. Yuven hopped over the runefence, and the air shifted against his feathers. Prickles swept up his skin, but when the old man struggled to heave himself over the runefence, he raised his hand to stop him. "No. Stay here. There was a Derelict attack last night."

"Derelict?" The old man predictably shrunk further away from the runefence.

"So stay." Yuven withdrew his crescent blade and with no path to lead him, treaded the undergrowth until the community disappeared behind bushes and branches. Every noise rippled through his spatial magick when he stretched it further from himself. He knelt down at darker patches of dirt, repeating the process of the garden, but instead of water and mud, it came up crimson.

Fists clenched on the pinch of dirt, he continued on the unseen trail. Wind whispered against his ears to tickle his feathers, which sent jolts down his spine. Further into the shadows, something cracked underneath the weight of his boot. He knelt down to the clump. A small, broken jawbone dug into the mud, where meat and fur scattered around the small divot.

With one of the larger bones in his hand, he frowned at the black streaks running through the yellowing white. Shit... His heart dropped as he put the bone back where he found it. Not just a Derelict, a husk. Dammit. Godsdammit! That man on the road was drained completely of magick and not utterly devoured because— Anger and blood rose up to his throat to swirl with bile as he slammed his crescent blade into a bush. He followed the path of heartbroken devastation, where the bushes' leaves wilted from a tainted touch. It's heading northeast. We've sent our patrols in the wrong direction. I need to get back to Captain Ineha.

Now.

He lifted himself out of the dirt and bushes. Unable to do anything else for the animal, he pushed dirt over the bones, marking it with a magick glyph to find it later before rushing back to the old man to break the bad news of his beloved pet. And to have a long talk with the others in their community about laziness and wasting time.

Everything must be protected... from the greatest wyvern, to the smallest flower.