It was fascinating to see how the others behaved. Especially the ones that circled around the old woman, Koya. There was Sandru, entirely too pretty for a man, who knew how to keep the wagons balanced like none other. Oberon, who despite his strange appearance, could speak strange languages and heal the sick. And the barbarian, Braedo, with his strange throwing weapons.
And yet, despite being nothing alike, they referred to each other as though they were family. Was this just another strange custom of the city-dwellers, meaning little? Or were they serious? And if so, how had they forged the bonds of kinship from nothingness?
Jaalek resolved to watch, and see if these bonds would hold under strain, or collapse. Perhaps they were merely empty words. But if they were not…
A sharp whistle drew his attention back to the task at hand. “I see nothing but stones”.
The elf woman chuckled. “I look at your head and agree. Look closer, see how some of the stones are wet and others dry? Our quarry crossed the stream behind us, and it’s paws are still wet. Now follow it as best you can.”
Shalelu rolled her eyes as Jaalek slowly started forward. Very slowly.