She-wolf. Her dirty paws and furry coat.

[MedalOfValor]

✵✵✵

A rather odd thing could have been seen the other night at the small yard in front of the Thayan Enclave. Clad in furs, leathers and wolf-like cowl individual climbed the tree growing in the gardens and made herself comfortable in the bend of few branches.

She could have been seen the next day leaving some berries and roots on a small scrap of clean linen next to the door.

✵✵✵

Rumor reached Boris quickly by way of the Thayan Knights guarding the Enclave entryway that a wild woman dressed in wolf-skins had been seen in the garden one recent morning and it was suspected she had spent the night. The description they offered concerned Boris. He suggested the Khazark not be bothered with such trivial matters of vagrancy, and assured the Knights that, as often as he resided at the Enclave, he himself would assume that lowly duty of ensuring the garden were clear of such undesirable elements - be they barbarian or beggar.

When the discovered tokens were presented to support the testimony of the Knights Boris promptly volunteered their disposal. He collected the cloth, berries and roots together, but what he did with them afterward remains without witness.

✵✵✵

The she-wolf approached the fence marking the border of the Thayan Enclave once more, a low, soft whimper escaping her while she crouched closer to it.

Her eyes focused on the guards darting to the tree and back, head tilted to the side. She brushed the feathery totem - with the colorful beads dangling from it - with her hand in a nervous gesture before moving to the side of the building. She-wolf, now hidden from the guards in the shadows cast by the towers, shifted. A moment later a small, rather scrawny-looking, gray squirrel with white markings on her bushy tail could be seen running up the tree trunk and disappearing between the top branches. Cracks of wood and few fallen leaves were the only indication that the squirrel turned back into the fur-clad wild one as she herself stayed hidden in the top branches, eyes fixated on the towering, stone built, magically protected building.

With her arms wrapped around the branch, cheek pressed hard against the nodular and cool bark the she-wolf chriped melodiously before a quietly uttered, broken words in a strangely sounding language could be heard. Only those actually versed in the Ulutiun language could perhaps translate her words into these verses.

1. 
   Her dirty paws and furry coat,
   She ran down the forest slopes.
   The forest of talking trees,
   They used to sing about the birds and the bees.
   The bees had declared a war,
   The sky wasn't big enough for them all.
   The birds, they got help from below,
   From dirty paws and the creatures of snow.

Her chirrup would die out soon enough, followed by low sounds of mewl, but even then she-wolf didn't move from her spot, still waiting.

✵✵✵

The Enclave door swung ajar and Boris stepped through. His presence was heralded by the clacking of interlocking platemail armour that broke the fragile stillness of the garden. Light from the Enclave interior glared over his shoulders seeming to lend him an aura as he emerged from that doorway in a suit of Thayan steel enameled as black as the Balduran sky.

The door slammed behind him leaving him in the dark.

A vice grip was fixed upon the hilt of the sword on his hip and his other hand brandished a sunrod. He struck the rod against his thigh and, with a crack and fizzle, it sparked into glowing life.

Wielding that brightening wand kept Shar at bay and lay bare what she left behind wherever she retreated - a lot of nothing.

As he quested, Boris unwittingly found himself standing beneath that tree. His eyes still searched the horizontal plane - oblivious to the presence of the she-wolf directly above him. A hoarse Thayan accent questioned the garden at large,

"Yas?"

✵✵✵

On some level, even in the half-dream haze, the she-wolf registered the slamming of the heavy doors but it wasn't till the light distorted the darkness surrounding her accompanied by the familiar rhythm of Boris' strides that she dared to shift gently and look down. She watched the man as he stood under "her" tree, a careful owl-like, unblinking gaze following his every move. At the sound of her name, the wild one shivered, her body tense from hours spent in the same position urged for her to move. Something not quite nervous yet disturbed lingered in her instincts but once the moment of hesitation was gone the fur-clad woman lifted herself from the branch, the crack and groan of the wood muffled by the thick crown of leaves, moving a little bit down where she could sit. With her right hand, she reached to one of her totems setting it in motion which would produce a quiet clicking sound before she chirped a hopeful, giddy tone. Then her still covered with a wolf headdress head would appear from behind a tree branch still few feets above from where Boris stood. Shadows danced on her visage causing the expression formed on her features a hard one to discern. She-wolf yelped quietly in an almost pleading tone, looking down at the Thayan.

✵✵✵

[Darradarljod]

✵✵✵

Boris looked up into the shadowed face of that animistic she-wolf with his own - hardened, absent of warmth but concern lived in his eyes. His harshness generally quieted her loud, warm and excited outbursts whenever they met on the roads of the Sword Coast. But this time Boris had found her reserved, cautious and quiet. The way she always stayed at his heel in the city, Boris appreciated this was not an easy place for her to be.

He had learned his first supposition was wrong - Yas was more than some ignorant berserk's daughter who had wandered too far south of the Spine of the World. The language barrier had deceived him at first into thinking her an ignorant animal, less than the rest of these Western barbarians. Now he knew she had understanding. She even had his preference over many others as a travelling companion, though he never introduced her to the Khazark as he did the others.

"Yas," Boris low voice was hushed, hard to make out due to his damaged throat, "what are you doing here? This is no place for you. Come down from this tree."

He considered that she might understand the danger she was in now - though surely not fully. Boris didn't know where the Khazark was. There was a sense of urgency in his address to Yas, an urgency for a quick solution for fear Kahanak or one of the others may arrive unexpectedly upon them.

✵✵✵

She-wolf piped quietly fidgeting nervously and casting narrowed glances towards the towers of the Enclave.

”Bo-rii! Sa-f--e?” With the question painted across her visage she addressed the armored man. Her words strained, careful. The common language sounding so foreign and strange when spoken by the wild woman. Upon registering the urgency in Boris’ voice she-wolf climbed down hurriedly, totems attached to her leathers and furs clicking and crunching in the wake of the sudden movement.

When on the solid ground Yas crouched closer to the man. ”Y-as ho-m--e” Fur clad being pointed to the tree, where she has been camping since the Thayan had saved her life. ”Bo-rii ho-m--e” Gloved in a furry, paw-like mitten hand indicated the Enclave, a crease forming on her forehead

”Y-as tai fo-r Bo-rii?” She cocked her head, her wolf headdress tilting to the side while she looked intently back to the Thayan. Even with her lacking vocabulary and the language barrier it created between them, the meaning of the question she wanted to convey was painfully obvious. Her stance shifted towards the fence ever so slightly, a clear sign that she somehow knew that this ground was not a safe place for her and that her presence was somehow putting the man at edge even more. She didn't understand entirely why, the politics and social order of things lost on her but she had known how signs of danger can display themselves way before she could even speak. The instincts of an animal were rarely wrong.

✵✵✵

[MedalOfValor]

✵✵✵

As Yas spoke these things, Boris felt his territorial blood boiling proudly for the purchased Thayan soil under his feet. "This is -NOT- your home!" the Knight barked and struck the trunk of the tree she had claimed with the sunrod. Sparks fell from the head of the rod and its glow faltered, dimmed, flickering repeatedly to cast leafy shadows frantically in all directions.


The she-wolf bounced away in an instinctive reaction, her body slamming into the fence, totems clicking and swishing madly. She whimpered in pain and shock crouching closer to the ground and looked to Boris with widened, filled with fear eyes. This sudden dread caused a start of a shift, the lower part of her body begun to turn slowly. The wild one shuddered vehemently, her features congested with exertion as she tried to stop the change.


The menace in steel stepped nearer to Yas, towering over the crouching one in the stuttering light. He was a black and ominous monolith of rage. Eyes of burnt sienna smoldered at this vexatious circumstance in which he had found himself.

As Boris recalled from a time being waylaid by bandits with Yas at his side, that word "tai" was equivalent to "danger". How could he express this clearly? Being here was a danger to her, definitely. A danger to him, perhaps. But especially, she needed to understand she was in danger from him.

A Thayan Knight's will was completely yielded, completely forfeit to the authority his Red Wizard Masters. His only compulsion at their commands was obedience unto death. And what was their will?

In the absence of any instruction, Boris glanced over his plated shoulder to the Enclave and considered what the will of his masters might be in regard to this trespasser.


The moment he averted his gaze from the fur-clad individual, with her lower limbs already resembling those of a dog, she reached to one of her rawhide bracelet with an unsteady hand and released a small bone ring from it. She-wolf trundled it towards the Thayan, the little trinket hit the side of his boot. The fear in her eyes started to give way to bitter realisation. At this point she welcomed the familiarity and safe integument of her animal form, turning into a gaunt dog.


When he returned his attention to the shifter his demeanor seemed to have cooled and refreshed, and he spoke to her as carefully as he may in the now steady and increasing glow of the recovering sunrod.

"Yas, this place is dangerous,"

He hesitated, then his eyes hardened as he began to coerce, "I do not want to see you here again."

"Do you understand me? You must never return here."


The dog lowered its head, a low whimper vibrated in her chest.


"Go," the sunrod extended by his long, plated arm to point out the mouth of the wrought iron gate. His face remained a hardened mask as per necessity, leaving her no suggestion of the familiarity that may have lured her here to begin with.


The woman turn animal squeezed between the bars of the fence darting into the streets of the city with a tail between the rear legs and her head low.


Boris watched Yas leave until he could no longer make out the shape of the dog in the night. His nostrils flared as he exhaled in relief, turning to return indoors.

As he turned, his boot scuffed something almost underfoot. Curious, he knelt in his plate mail armor and pinched the object between his plated forefinger and thumb.

In the light of the sunrod he made it out - a ring of bone. A moment was spent kneeling while he marveled at its craftsmanship. There was something strange about it - a warding, Boris recognised, for the wearer.

He had protected this woman aggressively on the roads of the Sword Coast, and he believed he had protected her tonight by his aggression - this time directed toward her.

However, this gesture - this gift - suggested that she would protect him in turn. Boris was not quite sure what response this warranted.

Clenching that bone ring in his fist the knight arose to stand. His dark eyes turned to the way Yas had departed, but he quested for her in vain. She was gone.

Boris lingered there in the garden all alone a long and thoughtful moment, reflective of the encounter, before retiring indoors.

There was nothing to report.

✵✵✵

[MedalOfValor]

✵✵✵

Tired and filled with the recently never-ending uneasiness She-wolf shaped into a pup. The familiar tranquility that always comes to her with the change engulfed and overtook her once more. She welcomed it, a low whimper of relief vibrated in her furry chest.
The puppy form, as all of her forms, looked gaunt, malnourished with a thinning, matt fur coat. She rose her head to sniff the wind catching the familiar scent. Soon enough puppy found a lone figure sitting at the campfire. Something was amiss so she crouched closer, wary of the change she felt but could not name or explain. The puppy barked and whimpered moving closer to the tiefling.

✵✵✵

As he notices the puppy's sickly state, he offers it a few additional bits and pieces of that dried fish, not speaking throughout, simply sitting in somber silence.

✵✵✵

So the two sat next to each other on the wet grass, blind man and a skin and bone puppy sharing pieces of fish. He spoke little to the dog and soon scooped it into his lap where the pup got comfortable enough that it turned into a small furball with some bony edges, resting her head on the bent of Hinzel's arm.

✵✵✵

The minutes tick by rather forcefully, even with the company, there was an undertone of tension in the Tieflings actions, as if a bit forced though it was obvious the company of the animal helped ease him somewhat, content to pet and stroke the matted fur.

✵✵✵

Puppy drifted off into an uneasy dream-like state only to woke up few moments later rather agitated. Low, nervous series of quiet barks could be heard before she jumped out into the grass sniffing the air. The thinning fur put up and ruffled, ears sticking close to the skull and a stiff, low positioned tail were a tell-tale of she-wolf's turned puppy mood, but the blind tiefling could not see them. All he could hear was a husky half-growl sound the dog was making. She moved closer nudging Hinzel's side before taking off. Once far away from anyone, hidden in a high bush she shifted back, very briefly, into human and then into a small screech owl.

✵✵✵

As it gets up to leave, he shifts a bit, already missing its presence. He quietly coos and calls out to the animal for a short time after it moves into a bush, hearing the rustling of the branches and leaves, but before long falls silent as it leaves him, shoulders slumped slightly once more, hunched over slightly, remaining in that spot for some time alone before eventually wandering back to Candlekeep, silent once more.

✵✵✵

[MedalOfValor]

✵✵✵

Dark, dying leaves holding onto their place in her branches rustled. A deep, sharp-edged crack ran down the middle of a tree's trunk, and it croaked loudly while the treant moved taking few last steps before the shifter lost her focus and shaped back into her battered, beaten up human form. A quiet, wavering whimper was all she could muster. She-wolf's attention was directed somewhere else, towards the steel-clad man at her side. His condition was better than hers, be it for all the wards she had given him, armor that was covering almost every inch of his body or the martial skill of the newly advanced Knight. And yet he bled just like she did, which on some level baffled her. Fur-clad individual tugged at one of her totems, the one made of feathers and leather straps and she called upon nature's magic she could still wield, even in her current predicament, to heal most of the critical wounds he could see on him. But it wasn't after the healing took effect that she was able to look up. Wolf headdress crooked to the side in addition to a battle-worn appearance made her look even more disheveled than usual. She-wolf yipped, paw-like mitten brushed the bone made totem then she outstretched her hand pointing down the road and to the trees.
"Bo--ri re-ssh-t?" Wild one's words were uttered with some urgency, pleading note well audible.


Boris could feel the resistance of his armor against his swelling body now. Limbs tingled or were numb from prevented circulation. The internal bleeding had been remedied by Yas' rituals, for the most part.

It had been a demanding and uncertain effort to escape with their lives. But this they had done. As Boris looked upon the She-wolf, hearing her plea, his aching body screamed in agreement that it was time to end their forced march. His cold iron will consented. The wolf needed a place to lick her wounds - Boris, too, needed to tend to himself.

✵✵✵

She sniffed the air and led them down the path, into the trees and then towards the trail that ran to the Nashkel mines but she stayed clear of the looming orog infested building in the distance taking a turn left for the hills and a small opening available there.

Together he and Yas came to a halt in the woodland clearing she had indicated.

She-wolf briefly closed her eyes letting her senses get a better handle on the location. Once sure they are safe, and nothing could intrude their rest she let out a small bark then pointed to their surroundings.
"Utai. Sa-f--e."

Immediately, Boris set aside his arms against a boulder and began unlatching his beaten platemail. It fell from him in pieces, dirtying the snow and dead leaves at his feet with the blood and grime it was splattered with. He slid free from his chainmail.

[Darradarljod]

✵✵✵

Fur-clad wild woman squatted down to the ground running her left hand across the patch of melting snow. She placed her right palm on an old tree stump before settling down and closing her eyes while the left moved from the snow to one of her totems. Yas' visage was painted with thick lines of focus, visible even despite the smudges of dirt, blood, and mud. Her breathing slowed down as she communed with nature, trying hard to restore her magic. For the time being, she ignored all the aching and discomfort of her wounds. There was no pain, not even the warmth, scent and stinging tingle of blood dripping slowly down her abdomen creating a sticky, growing crimson blotch on her leathers. Nothing existed beyond the connection with the wild. Not when she had to do something else first. Paw-like mitted clutched tightly around the totem shook ever so slightly, but the she-wolf remained still.

Gingerly, the Knight removed his sweaty black gambeson and cotton shirt. Both fell in a heap at his feet. Boris stood there in padded trousers and shoes, his bare torso steaming in the cold.

His body was a broken, bloated thing. Black and blue blemished his brickish red Mulan skin. The thick stretch marks over this incredible muscle mass seemed like tiger's stripes. Scars of war crisscrossed those marks - Boris' skin was a map of violence.

For the agony and exertion, his body had clearly endured Boris' breathing remained measured, a testament to a hard Thayan soul unpanicked by its mutilated host. His brown eyes were fixed on Yas as he leaned against the boulder, padding and winding his damaged body with a clean bandage where he could reach to do so. A temporary fix until a recovery at the Enclave was possible.

✵✵✵

She-wolf opened her eyes, squinting at the light at first and releasing the totem she was holding onto. She rubbed her dirty cheek, sniffing the air out of habit and then, finally, turned her gaze to the Thayan. Her human form might not have been anything even remotely resembling strength but her senses were as keen as those of an animal. If not more at certain times. Garbed in leathers and furs woman studied the map of violence displayed across Boris's body with a careful, slightly narrowed gaze. She pulled at one of the straps attached to the feathery totem, and it rustled in response. As her eyes traveled up and down taking in the extent of his injuries and tigerlike stripes of violently and obviously against nature's will stretched skin, a quiet yet strained with anger growl escaped her before she could strangle it. It took her by surprise, so she blinked and rushed to her feet, to shake off an odd sensation born in the back of her skull. This sudden movement made her stumble a bit, but she still pressed forward.

"You have done all I have asked of you," came the broken voice of the broken man, "and I am grateful. We have even escaped alive from the wrath of the giants!" Boris hacked a painful laugh and coughed, baring blood stained snaggle teeth in irritation.

He gulped the sanguine and sucked in a breath to continue speaking, "Take your rest while you can. Nashkel is not far - but the giants may still be on our trail."

[MedalOfValor]

✵✵✵

She-wolf shook her head in reply to his words.
"No. Utai. S-a--fe, re--sh-t Bo-rii." Yas approached the towering man with a degree of caution that has been clinging to their interactions since he had evicted her from the tree growing on the Thayan soil in the Enclave. She pointed to him, then to the smaller and more evenly shaped boulder barking quietly. Left hand scratched the crimson stained leathers absentmindedly, woman's gaze fixated on the stone drifted up to Boris briefly then back to the place she indicated. She-wolf frowned in frustration searching for a word hidden in her somewhat scattered mind.
"S-it? Bo-rii s-it?" A small, low-pitched sound of mewl followed the question uttered in her broken common.

Boris looked from Yas to the rock with a small and amused smile. The knight took up his swordbelt in a bruised hand and limped to the boulder she had indicated. He obliged her by seating himself. This he did carefully and re-adjusted afterward to extend one tender leg straightly. Light brown eyes fixed the she-wolf expectantly now by his lopsided gaze, gently questioning her intent.

✵✵✵

His amused smile was met with a frown and an arched eyebrow, but once the Knight seated himself, the she-wolf limped closer to him buzzing and yipping quietly. Her left hand had brushed a feathery totem before it fell to a twig, sprout, and strap made bracelet with a malachite stone attached to it. With her head tilted and a creased forehead, Yas circled the thayan examining his body and the wounds it had sustained, trying to discern which ones she should take care of first. Finally making her decision fur-clad individual moved to stand in front of the man. She grunted quietly and indicated his leg then moved closer, still wary, watching Boris carefully for any sign of the temper she knew could boil under that mutilated, tigerlike mulan skin. She-wolf whimpered softly then uttered another of her broken sounding words.

"He-eel? Hee-a--l!" Hand clad in the paw-like mitten pointed out to Knight's wounded leg while the woman's owl-like gaze lingered on the man.

✵✵✵

Boris watched the shaman Yas appraising his injuries. His gaze on her was a dark pursuit. Her wariness was noticed - and it was understood.

Though the black knight's pride was fuelled on the dread men had of his wrath, he had no such pleasure seeing the wolf so tamed by the caution of him. Though formerly he had resented her lack of restraint, now he would see the she-wolf uncaged.

When it seemed to Boris that Yas sought permission to proceed with her healing rituals the Knight gave it to her; the magic runes of fear and pain on his cheeks twisted, scrunching, as he forcibly expressed a difficult wide smile and nodded to the sorely damaged leg, "Do what you must."

[Darradarljod]

✵✵✵

She-wolf kneeled on the cold, muddy ground wincing and grunting in irritation that had been swelling in her as the pain intensified and tighten its grip on her insides. The wild woman dismissed it again without delay. Yas' buzzing took on some huskier, more throaty notes and she reached to the small blade, creatively hidden in a bone-made totem. She-wolf cut the padded leg of his trousers exposing a bulging, violet in color bruise creeping down man's knee and calf. She removed her paw-like mitten and prodded at the injury with just her fingertips, cold as windrows of melting snow on the sides of the Trade way, before reaching to another, smaller and less visible, totem made of dried herbs. Shaman brushed it gently muttering broken words in her foreign, northern dialect before words turned into a hummed melody.
Yas' blade found its way back to her right hand while the left rested above the knee. She focused her magic in there; it prickled at the brickish red skin and at the same time she made two precise, small, and quick incisions on both sides of the extravasation which burst and bled almost eagerly. Once the pressure was released, she directed the flow of her healing magic towards the wound, and when it was completely sealed, she moved her focus to other injuries, lacerations, and various bruises she could find on Boris' body. She worked tirelessly till all that was left to do were the two, still red and fresh puncture wounds where the Knight had received his tattoos. Shaman looked at the Thayan from under her furrowed brow and pointed to the symbols on his cheeks.

✵✵✵

Boris endured patiently throughout the procedure without complaint. Occasionally he turned his attention elsewhere around the grove to distract himself by keeping a vigil.

When Yas pointed at the magical Symbols of Pain and Fear tattooed freshly on Boris' face from the ceremony of his Knighthood (not but a day before) he frowned. "No," a gentle sweep of the back of his hand pushed the pointing hand of the She-Wolf aside. Boris helped himself sit more upright and leaned forward, propping himself with one hand on his good knee. "We let these heal on their own."

The wild woman grumbled hoarsely, eyeing the Thayan with a mixture of caution and irritation, putting some distance between them, now that she was done patching the knight up.

The pain Yas had shrugged off had not gone unnoticed by the Thayan male. He rested his hand on shaman's shoulder to keep her at arms length just for a moment, scrutinizing her entirely with a sweep of his brown eyes, "And what about you, hm?"

[MedalOfValor]

✵✵✵

She offered a low-pitched hum in response, shrugging and glanced down to the half-dry bloodstain. Her dark brow furrowed and she squinted as if this was the first time she looked at it and actually saw it being there.

Boris grabbed his travel pack of supplies from the Enclave and dragged it close. He rummaged within and took from it a medical kit. Inside the box, the Knight took what looked like a one-shot syringe with a stout, thick needle. The glass body was filled with a cloudy blue fluid that gave off a soft glow.

Boris shook it up as he commanded the shaman, "Take off your hood. Show me your neck."

✵✵✵

She-wolf looked up, her gaze narrowed at the sight of the unique, thayan device. She sniffed the air looking between the syringe and Boris. Shaman studied man's mulani features carefully for any sing of deceit or anger and after a long moment of consideration, she made few steps towards him. A soft, quiet whimper was the only sound she made as she placed herself in front of him. Yas pointed to the syringe and raised an eyebrow, looking questioningly at her companion.

"Wa-t d-aat?" she asked in a hushed, tired voice.

The sullen-eyed fighter observed the caution of the she-wolf. She had not forgotten the readiness of his wrath in the garden and remained timid. He beckoned her with a great hand, and when Yas had mustered enough trust to nestle at his feet, he shook the syringe twice and presented it for her inspection.

With the vigorous shake, the magical alchemy within was agitated and began to glow ever more vibrantly white. Boris squirted a jet of the bright fluid onto a finger, showed it to Yas, then tasted it in good faith. It was disgusting. But harmless. Boris played it up as something good tasting, acting surprised as if it was really wonderful. "Mmmmm."

Boris was a bad actor.

"It is a helper Yas. Will you let it take your pain away?" The giant clutched the syringe in one hand, ready to press the trigger that would fire the shot of Thayvian alchemy into the jugular of the northerner. He beckoned Yas once more, this time for her neck, seeking to arrest her gaze with his own as he did so.

[Darradarljod]

✵✵✵

Her brow quirked, and the woman buzzed rolling her eyes, well aware of how poor of the act was his peculiar behavior. The she-wolf nodded and removed one of the layers of her leather made attire exposing her neck. A tattoo, interlaced with some ritual scars marked her skin. She yipped quietly without taking her eyes of the Thayan male.

The fighter jabbed the stout needle into Yas' bare neck and kept it there. He watched as the shot of magical alchemy drained quickly, being drunk into the thirsty jugular. The effect was almost immediate - euphoric relief from the pain, but accompanying this was a burning in the veins like snake venom. The sedative was only slight - Yas felt a very gradually increasing wellness in herself.

The she-wolf tensed, her lips pressing tight containing a whine that rumbled in her throat. The mixture of pain and euphoric feeling forced her eyes to turn cloudy. The fur-clad woman shook her head vehemently; totems clicked madly in response.

Boris packed the empty syringe away and reclined uncomfortably on the rock, staring at the shaman. As his scarred and tattooed chest rose and fell, hot breath steamed out of his nostrils. The fighter's eyelids were heavy. The length and trouble of their journey together were catching up with the knight now that they had stopped to rest.

A longer moment passed before the she-wolf collected herself. An odd expression was painted across her face as she looked about. Her eyes finally settled on the Thayan. She growled lightly then weaved a spell over him. A cocoon of light engulfed the Knight, providing warmth and almost instant relief of any exhaustion while keeping him also immobilized while the spell was in effect. Yas observed for a moment, tugging at a leathery totem before she shifted into the wolf. A scrawny, worn-looking beast howled, nudged the immobilized man gently then turned to leave, soon disappearing from sight.

The suddenly immobilized knight could only follow the departure of the she-wolf with his eyes. His muscles strained against the magical energy that sheathed him, even with all his might, but despite so great a strength has he had by his augmentation there was no overcoming it.

Soon the effect passed, and the knight found himself refreshed but alone. A chorus of distant wolves answered the shapeshifter's cry, and Boris looked calmly in the direction. His nostrils steamed as he sighed through them, irate, and began to arm himself once more for the trek back to Nashkel alone.

It was the 9th of Ches, the Claw of Sunsets, and though the Thayan did not realize it, this would be the last he would see of Yas for a long, long while...