The GraveWalkers

Chapter Five

Alaric couldn't help the slight grin that teased his lips as he felt the presence of four people behind him. His plan was becoming less far-fetched by the second. Korran and Mathis - the spear-wielding Guerdian, still bickered occasionally as the group advanced. Still, Alaric thought it could've been much worse.

It had been ten minutes of walking before the group was able to make out the tree line in the distance, and an extra eight minutes before they reached it. There, stationed on the very lip of the edge was the last member of the team. 

Usually, Alaric would have qualms about leaving a lone female to guard their horses for a whole day, but this particular female had a friend.

Korran had been in the middle of responding to another jab by Mathis when he caught sight of this friend. Even though Alaric had been watching him, he could scarcely tell where the assassin pulled the two daggers that materialized in the boy's grasp as he crouched down low in a defensive position.

The friend in question snorted, which Alaric took as a sign of his amusement. He still wasn't well versed in deciphering the cues the massive white wolf gave.  A petite girl, almost as pale as the wolf, approached from the shrubbery. "Th-there's no need for weapons," she said softly.

Korran's face twisted in confusion, but he made no move to sheath his weapons. The wolf sat on its haunches as the girl patted it and whispered softly in its ears. 

Alaric was eager to diffuse the situation. "As you can see, this girl is a-"

"Witch," Korran interrupted, his face morphing into one of disgust. He straightened up then, still refusing to hide his blades from view. 

The timid girl's eyes shot up at that, her hazel eyes catching the sun as they flashed with indignant rage. Next to her, the white wolf bristled, a low snarl emanating from his chest. "I am not a witch," the girl said steadily, emotion leaking through her words.

"I was going to say a Pateral," Alaric offered calmly, hoping his tone would lighten the sudden intensity that cracked in the air.

Paterals were humans with special abilities, and this small, timid girl who seemed ready to blow away with a strong gust of wind, was one of the most potent charmers in the nation. Her talent allowed her to foster a young adult wolf, taming him when charmers usually needed to imprint on a pup, especially when the target was something as formidable as a wolf. 

"That's what those who benefit from their existence call them," Korran replied, not breaking eye contact with the wolf. "It's nothing but a made up term."

Alaric sighed. "Well, you're about to benefit a whole lot from one's existence."

Korran's eyes widened as realization dawned on his face. "You can't be serious; you've already got a jester with a spear, now you're pairing that with a witch? What happens when her control slips?"

Alaric's brow creased as his patience began to wear thin. He'd been warned about the difficulty of making people get along practically his whole life. Yet, growing up in a city where all types of races resided and his only real foes were political enemies, he couldn't relate to such innate hatred.

"I've handpicked each individual here based on their ability - just as I did you. If you were to give them a chance I'm sure you'd realize they can be dependable," Alaric said, causing Korran's face to darken at the idea.

"What's your problem with Paterals, anyway?" Ardus asked. The giant man had easily hoisted their bundles of tents all the way on his shoulders. As it turned out, he made a good camel substitute. 

Alaric had learned that members of the Carusao tribes thought of Paterals as having been blessed by the Gods, hence their abilities; thus they were evidence of the existence of these Gods, so he wasn't surprised to hear defense in the man's tone.