Mythas' Return: The Lost Princess

Chapter Twenty One: My Debt to Her

Chapter Twenty One: My Debt to Her

    The rogue scanned the forest floor for any signs of the princess, or boot prints that did not belong to her guild - as she remembered that the faunish races did not wear shoes, after all. She paused in the middle of a muddied patch in the path, bending over to see the dirt - for her halfling eyes were failing her in the midnight darkness, and the moon was little to no help. She found her sight blocked further when Callan's velvety nose came jutting into her view, his lip curling as he sniffed around.

"You are not a dog." Davret huffed. "Why did you follow me, boy?"

Callan snorted and continued up the way, his hefty hooves sinking into the muck just enough to leave deep rooted prints.

"No! You might cover something...damn it!" Davret sighed, waving for the horse to come back to her.

    "Allow me to have a look." Nhymrin's naturally hushed voice breathed over Davret's shoulder.

    The halfling jumped, covering her mouth to stifle her own scream. "High hells!"

    "Not yet." the vampire said in a monotone stint of sarcasm.

    "You needn't follow me...either of you." Davret hissed.

    Nhymrin said nothing in response, merely strolling on the other side of the path now - but the halfling had not seen her move from behind her. The two of them followed Callan for a short while in complete silence before the half-elf suddenly bolted in front of the horse, startling him.

    "What now?" the halfling bleated, blowing a few short auburn tresses away from her eyes.

    The vampire stood in the middle of the overgrown path, peering ahead before turning back to face Davret with her eerie red orbs, which never failed to send a chill down the rogue's spine.

Nhymrin lifted one finger, pointing ahead, "There is a fork."

"I see nothing." Davret scoffed.

"I know." the vampire concurred before continuing her trek ahead, holding onto Callan's bridle. She waited for Davret where the path split in two, blocked by heaping bushes of thornflowers that wrapped themselves around every tree growing along the original path.

Davret squinted and noticed a piece of brown fabric that lay tattered near her feet, caught on the vines' spikes. "Mehmeil." she mumbled.

"Another halfling?" Nhymrin pondered.

"The one I fought, and the man too...Khasun. But this is from Mehmeil's skirt. Who wears a full length skirt into battle?" the rogue sarcastically scorned.

"This way, then?" the vampire queried.

Davret repeated Nhymrin's silent answer, mimicking her from earlier, and simply walking ahead of her and the steed. The vampire could not help but grin, but she quickly closed her lips out of habit, for she usually feared her fangs being seen.

An ancient looking oil lamppost stood further up the way, beside a rotting gate that slouched into the brushberries; the lantern appeared as though it had not been lit in several years, for it had a thick layer of dust and dead bellflies that clung to old cobwebs. Davret waited for Nhymrin and the steed to come beside her, where she then took Callan's reins away from the vampire before loosely tying them to the lamppost.

"Wait for me." Davret told him, stroking his soft nose. The horse huffed in understanding, it seemed. "You too." she stated toward the half-elf.

"Why do you wish to do this alone?" Nhymrin challenged her.