Chapter 3: Part 1

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Apparently, Ulric thought we were behind schedule, and he wanted to make it to the nearest settlement before sundown. This meant that we would be riding close to the side of the road atop his horse, which he fondly called Roach. I don't particularly know how the term Roach could be used endearingly, but Ulric somehow pulled it off, and I tried to rid my mind of the thought of spindly-legged bugs.

The only time I had ridden a horse had been on a stubby pony rented for a third-grade birthday party. Needless to say, I held onto Ulric for dear life as he deftly rode us through the trees.

At this close of proximity, it was evident that he had been camped out away from civilization for quite some time – I tried to breathe through my mouth and ignore the smell of body odor.

Fenrir and his pack chased after us deeper in the woods. I would occasionally get a glance of them moving and couldn't help but think of wraiths as they slipped through the thick trees like water.

The sun was beginning to make the shadows around us long, and a golden warmth filled the air, cutting through the winter chill.

A sharp yip broke the monotonous sound of the horse hooves, and Ulric suddenly tensed under my touch. His head immediately swiveled, taking in our surroundings. Roach slowed to a stop, and the silence felt deafening as we sat. The silence only lasted a minute before the clop of another horse's hooves could be heard. We were at a slight incline, and before we could retreat to the shelter of the trees, a horse toting a small covered wagon crested the hill.

"Keep your head down and don't look at any of them. Hopefully, we will pass by unnoticed." He turned slightly in the saddle and reached for the hood of the cloak I was still wearing. He pulled the fabric low over my eyes and tucked in my hair before removing the body of the cloak as well to cover my foreign clothes.

A growl from the underbrush next to our feet only a few feet away startled me, but I relaxed slightly, realizing it was Fenrir with his silver-tipped ears. Ulric held out a hand as if saying stop and then turned his wrist to make a circle motion with his finger. The silent communication made no sense to me, but Fenrir seemed to understand, and he disappeared with a hushed whisper back into the forest.

Ulric urged Roach forward into a gentle canter trying to play off a casual air to our travels. Although I doubt Ulric could ever even come close to looking casual.

As we neared the wagon, I noticed a single, somewhat heavyset male Elf sat upon a graying horse. The Elf was dirty, and a large scar on his face didn't look particularly friendly. Despite this, he seemed peaceful and offered Ulric a nod of the head as we neared.

That's when I noticed the chained Faun that was stumbling after the wagon. The Faun had no clothes despite the winter and looked malnourished and dehydrated. The furry, goat-like legs were matted with mud and had burrs clumping the curly hair together. The long goat ears protruding from his head were downcast in submission and acceptance of his pitiful fate. Fading bruises covered his skin, and a brand that looked old and healed marred the skin of his chest.

"The Faun," I whispered heartbroken at the sight, and Ulric made a small sound of agreeance. Of course, we weren't going to stop. Ulric's warnings from earlier today rang in my ears, and I knew that he would continue Roach onwards towards our destination – the palace of Ithica.

I lifted my head slightly as the wagon passed, and I was direct across from the Faun. The hair on his face and head was a dark brown and grew in tight natural curls. He was unkempt and dirty, and I noticed more bruises up close.

Our eyes connected for a moment, and another image flashed into my mind so intense I nearly fell off the back of Roach. The image of a field filled with spring wildflowers rolled out before my eyes. The mountains rose in the distance, and a river flowed peacefully across the clearing. Laughter and music filtered through the air as youthful Fauns frolicked under the sun. Happiness filled their faces, and a sweet breeze ruffled the hair between the horns that were only just starting to grow in. A small voice tickled my brain. "Help us," it said.

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