The last few months had been rather harsh on poor Spell. Never had a bodyguard job lived up to the dangerous expectation, and he was quite content with that fact. More often than not with his line of work he found himself escorting nobles from cities to other such cities where they'd squawk about things he had no interest in to others of their social standing. It was all politics really. However, the job he was heading back from left him tattered and down right- well he could have made the comparison that he was beaten down to the bone; he sure looked like some poor creature that had more than enough runs through the ringer. He was tired, and wanted nothing more than to reach the town he had been calling home for years; La'marri. Unfortunately for him, the road he was walking on, so to speak as in reality there was no road but a faded pathway winding through many ferns and stumps and fallen down trees in Niahi Woods, but it had yet to end either way, and he would certainly not reach it by the time the sun went down. How irritating. Every part of him itched for rest, a long, long rest. He deserved it after that wild goose chase which sent him half way around Le'raana with his client. It was more than enough to make any man wish for a soft bed to sleep in. But for tonight, the forest floor would be his comfort and companion.
When at last Spell had come to a clearing in the woods, a sparse occurrence he figured considering how dense the forest was, he was lucky to come across it. The remnants of a fire laid in the middle; laying abandoned and forgotten by the people who had once used it to keep warm, and light their spirits on a weary journey. Going away, or coming home? He wondered. Not that it mattered, as long as he could find a safe place to set up camp, he did not care where it was. And from the look of it, as he stooped down to inspect the charred remains of wood, who ever had been there would not be coming back anytime soon. At least, he hoped. Considering what he recently went through, and all that bad luck he wouldn't be surprised if in the middle of the night he found a knife to his throat. That is, if he woke up at all.
He could barely see through the canopy of the trees to the sky, but knew from the coldness in the air and the way the forest grew darker; the shadows stretching from the trees, growing until they covered everything. He knew to take precautions when traveling, however, shivers always ran down his spine at the sight of bleakness. What lurked beyond the bushes, the ferns? What stepped upon the twigs, which of them cracked, and which did not? What could stare at him, if not an owl's eyes? He found it unsettling, no matter how many times he walked this trail alone. He was not the bravest man in the world. Honestly, he was far from it.
Spell sighed, weary of the day's walking, and slipped off the bag strapped to his shoulders only to place it gently on the ground beside him. His cloak, made with a tan coloured material looking heavy and edged around the sides with pure white fur; a garment meant to keep a person warm, and not concealed, still laid draped over his shoulders, and tied at the front, with the hood up and over his head. He reached
up to grab and pull down the hood, allowing his long rabbit-like ears to breathe. How suffocating it felt to have them tucked under a heavy cloak, being as sensitive as they were. Caution always led him to hide them, he would much rather have people think he was human than not one. Strangers that is, he could never be too careful with those.
His eyes were as bad as his hearing was good, shown clearly by Ku'kulan crafted spectacles on his face, designed specifically for a Jeqeun because of the lack of convenient human ears. He could already hear the crickets starting to chirp in the foliage. A peaceful sound, he mused. It reminded him of a home long lost to him, and something in the bottom of his soul began to stir. But, he sighed and shook his head, getting ready to set up camp. Those thoughts were of no use now.
It did not take him long to get a fire roaring. With a little help from the magic he possessed he started the flame in newly gathered pieces of broken wood. He placed his hands near it, feeling the warmth tingling across his cold fingers. A smile played on his lips as the reflection of the fire danced in his eyes. He sat on the blanket he carried with him inside the bag, much more comfortable than the very ground itself. Spell rested, his long ears laying low on his head, ready to twitch at the first odd sound. And unfortunately, the first odd sound came sooner than he would have liked.
He tensed, his body going ridged at a loud yelp coming from the depths of the forest. No, not the depths, but only a little ways from him if his ears heard correctly. He held his breath, his ears standing straight up, visibly shaking as seen from the dangling earrings they were decorated with. He reached under his cloak and to his belt, where a short dagger laid in a sheath, and pulled it out. A pitiful howl rose to the air, laced with pain. Spell stood armed and waited. There was a long pause before his ears caught the sound of another howl, although from what he guessed, from the same animal, or it was just exceedingly similar to the last one. He hesitated, and remembered to breathe.
It was not in his best interest to wander into the brush to search for the noise, but he heard no other sounds, no other growls, no other indication that there could be others with the beast. It was alone, and more than likely hurt. He knew the sound, and he was sure no one, even a non-Jeqeun could mistake it. Spell pushed his way past the ferns, past the branches that were daring to hit him in the face, his ears following whimpers. He clutched hard at the handle of the dagger in his hand, which had grown sweaty. What was driving him to it? He was a sap, a horrible, horrible sap, and a hero-wannabe, at least that was his reasoning. He could not find it in himself to admit he had compassion for those in pain, whether it be person or beast. He could not see well in the dark, if it were not for his hearing he would have passed right on by the wolf..or was it a dog? He could not tell either way, the creature's fur was as black as anything, concealing itself into the night. He paused, standing off to the side, with his dagger pointing right at it for his own protection. There was an irony smell in the air. Blood, there was no mistake.
