[Took a few small liberties. If you need me to change anything, let me know.]
The time had come to move the caravans along, up river, where the next stage of the Grand Crocodile Hunt was about to go underway. In the hours preceding morning, caravaners packed and loaded kaadir and horses and other animals to move. Some lords complained about it, some reveled in what more they could kill. But for Agrian, his mind was elsewhere.
He had to remind himself that he was no longer a slave in the arena. At least not for the moment. He went wherever his mistress Evelyn went, as her servant, as her guard, or whatever she tasked him with. Thankfully, he'd been allowed to keep his helm. He'd taken to wearing it, a token of his gladiator days, perhaps as a method of mourning, perhaps as a salute; but the real reason, he would never say.
Agrian thought to the evening before. He smiled at the thought that he'd been one of the few men who'd been able to see the Shah, in all her glory, and he found himself laughing quietly to himself.
"Quiet, slave!" growled Hassan, a 'majordomo' that had taken to greatly disliking Agrian's sudden favor with Evelyn. "Get some water from the river! The Mistress is visiting with the Shah's entourage today and she doesn't need you smelling like a pig in shit."
Agrian glared at Hassan, watching the tall, hairy, swine walk away. Speaking of a pig in shit, Hassan was likely unhappy as he had to tend to the Kaadir today. Poor slob.
And that was when he heard the scream. Agrian turned around, watching the familiar tent of Persea's fall down in a heap as a large crocodile came out of the water.
He didn't think as he leapt into action, snatching a net and a trident out from the side of the river path, and ran toward the beast.
