Chronicles of Wildra

 She ran as fast as she could, though her head pounded like a drum. She had no time to think about why, why she was doing it, why she had left her last known living family member in those dark holes of the Throdur dungeons. No she must not think about it, she wouldn't start to remember.

 The pounding grew, giving a throbbing feeling to her head. One of them had been found, only three more and her shield to the wizards would be broken. Hopefully, they hadn't noticed what her aunts were doing, but who had been caught? Which of her aunties, who had so protected and nurtured her, had been caught? She wanted to sit down and cry but she couldn't, her mama wouldn't want that and neither would her aunts she had to get to the .....

"No must not think that name, or even speak it aloud." she whispered only for her ears to hear, but in these woods you were never truly alone, never.  

******************************************************************************

He jogged through the brush looking for the wounded animal, that had so quickly ran past him. He had not wounded it, but someone had and whoever it was would pay with their lives. No one hunted here, anyone dumb enough to do so usually ended up missing. The mortals knew that, and yet every once in a while, there was someone too stubborn for their own good, and insisted that the stories were not true. This had been his forest long before they got here, and would be long after they left. It was always the same with them, things never changed.

"Maybe they will one day, once you stop hiding...." said a voice a quiet voice in the back of his mind, he ignored it.

She was going off on him again and he would ignore her until she changed topic.

"You do know I can hear your thoughts, yes?" he sighed, and continued his stalking.

 He followed the stag's trail to a clearing where a group of shouting men were wrestling with ropes and trying to take the exceptionally large stag down. the animal lashed out with its antlers, grunting and whining in anger and panic.

"Skin it alive, I want the fur!" the leader, a particularly grungy looking man, shouted through the ruckus of his company.

Tal felt his anger begin to boil, but held a tight rein on it. He couldn't afford to get lose control, that would reveal him to others of kind he would rather avoid, and it would destroy all he had worked for. Slowly, but surely Tal began his hunt, the hunters were about to become the hunted.