The long, grueling race across the plains had turned into a long, grueling race through low valleys and around foothills as those who hunted the Hunter slowly closed the distance to their quarry, and Kelendor Pass. The repetitive days rolled into weeks; the moons had either sped or crawled across the night sky as was their routine. Rains had come, falling gently or squalling with thunder and fury, the sun re-emerged to crack skin, hide, and leather under its blinding glare.

The first carrion birds had begun to circle lazily in the sky above when the group mounted up to ride for the darker-green cluster of low trees and brush which Rhenn had spotted when he was desperately looked for cover for the horses. It bespoke a creek or stream, perhaps even a small pond out there on the plains, fresh with water after the recent summer storms, still several hours' travel away. Khevar spurred his mount and the small herd of two-legged and four-legged creatures took off...

...except for Senaia, who stood with her hooves planted flat on the rolling turf, looking at Jardanth balefully.

Rhenn's face twisted into an incredulous look as he danced Senaia sideways around the healer. "It's going to wake up dead." He said simply, before he resumed his charge.

The healer's face fell. So for doing no more than you yourself have done thousands of times -- kill to eat -- you sentence that creature to death. Wordlessly the healer watched them go.

The green-gold plains rolled on forever, a vast body of life and energy that nurtured and protected a bit more often than it savaged and destroyed. For the Horselords, this was one of their eternal truths, a thing known so deeply it was not often commented upon or even noticed -- it simply was, much like the Sealords felt about Menelon's endless oceans, or the Riverrunners the arterial pulse of the hundreds of rivers that carried the water of life throughout this land.

When any Bak'Tiar came up hard upon a thing that caused them to face the inherent limitations of these inborn truths, it tended to make them a little... well... uneasy.

The sun had set behind clouds in all the shades of red and gold imaginable, as if the elements had washed the canvas clean enough for something thing truly glorious to be painted upon it. The eclectic group which had been preoccupied in hunting a Hunter found itself in the aftermath of what Rael might have recognized as an ecstatic state, or what the Sealords might have termed a "storm frenzy." Chaos had touched them -- what kind of new order would be brought into form from it?

--

The sun rose red above the mountains in the east as the members of the hunting party roused themselves from what slumber they'd found in the night. It was time to continue the chase. Kassus and Mari couldn't shake off the heavy feeling in their bones -- there would be another rainstorm this day, bringing bucketsful of rain up from the southern sea, driven by wind. It would be worse than the last one and the two Sealords passed word around to the others -- keep d'nem cloaks handy. They'd be needed.

The trail stayed close to the Crookleg River as it headed south for the rest of that day. The stops for the care of the horses were the only ones they took, and even those were accomplished swiftly, with purpose. There was little talk among them, the shock of what they'd seen was still too fresh in their minds. It was going to take time for memories of the raw-edged brutality of the slaughter to fade back to a place where words would fit around them.

The following two days passed much as the first had. To those who had not been born to it, the land around them that had at first seemed so featureless eventually began to take on a life and personality of its own. The dull yellow grasses got greener where water rose close to the surface, and where it broke through to stream some distance across the plains low shrubs and small trees also grew.

The hunting party rode hard through the cooler morning hours, leaving a much-sobered kum al-kidret behind them. Rhenn and Khevar moved into the van, eyes on the ground, careful to keep the lone horse's trail under their own horses' hooves. The track was still fresh enough that they could follow with a fair amount of speed, their conversation called out to each other, but not quiet loud enough for the others to follow. Still, such dialogs were few -- the day's heat, dry winds, and sun would rob the moisture from one's mouth, if it was open for too long.

As the discussion of the group wound down and frazzled apart under a profound lack of direction, may others at the kum al-kidret performed their tasks meant to give the group every chance at success. Because they were human, where their tasks intersected they talked, mostly in soft, worried tones, passing on rumor, speculation, and sometimes outright gossip.

The nod of the Wavecrest healer freed Jardanth to report to the elders. Tiredly, he walked over to the edge of the stage, the blood of the rider still covering his arms. "Excuse me elders, Mari, and our honored guests. Our Jackalbane kinsman will live. With Ch'dar's continued blessing, the young man will ride again someday soon. For now he rests and regains the strength he will need to fight."

he elders all looked relieved at this, those still on the ground clustering around Jardanth to offer their well-wishings and support.

Mari and the band played and played, improvising upon the tune until they didn't recognize it anymore, until none of them could be sure where one stopped and the next picked up, until Mari was wondering how she could bring it all to a close when she heard the first screams from the back of the audience. A ripple if disquiet wafted through the crowd from the source, subtly breaking the ecstatic trance of the dance.

Then, accompanied by more screams and cries of alarm, for the second time that day something bright arced across the night sky from east to west, the trailing glare fierce to eyes accustomed to the darkened, intimate atmosphere of the performance. With the kind of accuracy only the gods themselves could promise, the arcing trail ended on Mari's stage, almost at her booted feet.

They didn't wait for the sun to set before they gathered before the stage on the shores of Lake Torogan. It sank into the plains, blazing bright orange to blood red, setting fire to the western sky. The elders gazed westward, thinking about the portent earlier, how it had arced from east to west across the blue dome above. They watched the sunset and murmured to one another in low voices while the adults and young ones came together to hear the first clanbard in three hundred years sing them their songs, and hers.

Khevar was startled when the beautiful woman smiled a friendly smile at him without flinching. She was either very blind or very well controlled. Either way she was unique and his interest was peaked. Feeling slightly guilty at eavesdropping, he stayed close enough to overhear their conversation, hoping to find out who she was.

"I'm eager to meet this bard you speak of. I understand that there is little else among your people that could match this honor." Cady said to Rhenn, her eyes looking toward the bard once again. Her body swayed slightly with the rhythm of the crowd as she eagerly awaited her introduction.

Literally, from all ends of the world they came. Every year, from a time beyond reckoning the wandering children of this largely unregarded god returned to their home, to the broad inland valley where their stories said it all began. From herd-covered northern tundra, and the hot plainslands of the south. From the Versken Forest and the trackless river fens. From ports in Orahn and Gloredil, Fernwall and Kierkkenhalten they came, sailing at speed up the vast Torogan River.