K'thalen Tia

The sun wasn't taking any prisoners today. Central Thanalan was at the mercy of a broiling heat wave, without a single spec of cloud in the bright blue sky. It was hot, even for a desert, and it would stay this way until sunset– and perhaps a few bells after that. Only the desperate or deranged would be out and about, especially those without access to a lot of water. Only the desperate. Only the deranged.

… TINK! … TINK!

Out in the middle of this hellish heat was a team of builders at the end of a long railroad track. Four men took turns laying down the wooden beams across the ground, another four slid the black iron tracks into place. Two came in with nails of fire-treated steel, and one man weilding the sledgehammer came lumbering in to strike them in place. 

He was merely a Hyur, but almost as large as a Roegadyn, and built like a siege engine. His face was flushed red from the scorching heat– almost as red as his messy hair– and he was drenched in sweat, bit he was still holding his own better than anyone else. His thick and hairy arms flexed when he raised the hammer high over his head. And every time he brought it down with a thunderous fury, his coworkers flinched and looked away, certain this time he would miss and turn the bones in their hands to dust.

… TINK! … TINK!

"Break time!" Yelled the foreman, much to the relief of the others. The big Hyur dropped the hammer right at the end of the track and headed to the barrels of water nearby. He took off his shirt to wipe at his brow, choosing to drape it over his broad shoulders lest he tempt the seething sun overhead to cook his skin like a pot roast. He had just sat down and filled a flagon when a chocobo carriage came grinding to a halt in the middle of the road.

Aurant stepped off the back, flipping a coin to the driver before they started on their way again. The slender Elezen walked right up to the redhead, who only gave him a passing glance while he chugged his drink down. "You must be Agnar Bearclaw. Legendary pit fighter with twenty-nine victories and only one defeat. To the Bull of Ala Mhigo."

He let out a snort before nodding. "Didn't think anyone remembered Agnar from old days.” His voice was deep and his accent was thick. “Come on--where do you want autograph?"

Aurant gave him a shocked and confused look. “Oh… I’m not a fan of that bloodsport. Too barbaric for my taste.” Agnar rose his refilled flagon to his lips but paused to give the Elezen a dirty look.

“Then why bother Agnar?” He asked, indignant.

“My colleague and I are bounty hunters and we’re in need of your assistance.” Answered Aurant, trying his best to remain as vague as possible to rope in his interest. Instead of a quizzical look and an inquiry, Agnar tossed his head back and let loose a loud belly laugh that seemed to last an uncomfortably long time.

“Who dares put bounty on Agnar?” He finally asked, now that he caught his breath. He didn’t seem too frightened at the prospect, but given how large and famous he is, only a truly desperate man would try it; but that wasn’t the point anyway.

Clearly the aloofness he was used to from his former captain wasn’t so easily replicated. Instead he dropped the act and just acted himself. “Ahh… there seems to be some sort of confusion. Nobody’s put a bounty on your head, good sir! We are looking to hire you to help us with a bounty!”

Agnar didn’t seem too interested. He gave him a weak shrug and then grunted, “Already have job. Railroad tracking is good pay.” He looked up at Aurant with a side glance. “How much you pay?”

“We’re going to be splitting a bounty of one million four wa-"

SPLPLSH!

Glistening water was sprayed everywhere! Before Aurant had a chance to dry himself off, Agnar was upon him! “ONE MILLION?! ONE MILLION GIL?!”

“Split! Split between four people!” The Elezen quickly spat– clarifying so he wouldn't be tackled by the excited man.

The big man looked down at his fingers and began counting. “One fourth of one million… that is… aha! Hundred thousand!”

“No, what?! That’s… I mean… yes.” Aurant blinked, keeping his distance from Agnar. “Yes, that's perfectly accurate. I take it you will join us?”

He turned to shout at the Lalafellin foreman. “AGNAR QUITS!” The poor soul wasn’t even halfway through his sandwich when he dropped it into the dust in shock. 

“N-no! Agnar can’t- you can’t quit!” He sputtered, stopping himself from speaking in the third person like his former employee. “Who will swing the sledgehammer?!”

“That is little man’s problem!” He bellowed, storming off to the city of Ul’dah with a bounce in his step. The Lalafell was pale as a ghost, turning to look at the rest of his workers; he had no Hrothgar or Roegadyn in his group, and none of the other Hyur were nearly large enough to swing the hammer by themselves. He went from being days ahead of schedule to the delight of his employers to a predicament without a foreseeable solution. He tripped over his own chair and went crashing into dirt, panicking as his money maker sauntered off.

"I'm terribly sorry for all this." Aurant gave him a sympathetic smile and wave once he started walking backwards. "Good luck in your endeavors!" He could still hear the fearful shouting of the foreman while he broke off into a trot to catch up with the first addition to their merry band of bounty hunters; he personally didn't think a loud and brutish Hyur would be very useful in what would certainly be a stealthy operation, but Aurant never questioned his captain and he definitely wouldn't start doing it now. "Right then! We'll spend the night in the Quicksand and wait for our colleagues to-"

"No." Agnar grunted, suddenly taking a sharp turn off the path. "We visit camp. Agnar tell wife of big job!"

"Your WIFE?!" He thought to himself, almost blurting it out. The Elezen was in complete disbelief as they headed to the Ala Mhigan refugee camps set up near the gates of Ul’dah. "This big burly ogre has a wife…?! She must be as frumpy as him and twice as uncouth! No modest woman would tie her chocobo to a man who smells like-!"

"Amalie! Sweet Summer Rain, where are you?!" Agnar called out once they were only a few paces within the perimeter; the other refugees seemingly ignored his bellowing voice– no doubt they were used to it by now. But in the distance someone was weaving under drying laundry hung up on ropes, around iron barrels used to keep them warm during the bitterly cold Thanalan nights, and through the crowd of dusty and dirty refugees.

She was absolutely gorgeous. Aurant's eyes widened at the Ala Mhigan beauty in approach– the complete opposite of the hulking boar she apparently married. Captivated by her giant golden eyes, the Elezen remained speechless as she leapt into Agnar's embrace for a big hug and a barrage of kisses.

"Welcome home!" Amalie swooned, smiling tenderly. "But you are early… why? Little man give big lunch break?" Somehow she had the same accent as her husband, and yet it wasn't claws on a chalkboard when she spoke.

"No, Agnar quit job. This man pay better than railroad!" He gestured to Aurant but she didn't even look in his direction; her golden eyes flared up with rage and her face immediately turned red!

"You quit job?!" She repeated, stomping a foot on the ground in anger. "We need gil! For house! For FOOD! Go back and get job back now!" She was almost as loud as Agnar, truth be told, but even in her fury she was far easier on the ears to listen to.

"Buttercup! Agnar have job!" He anxiously gestured to Aurant again. "This man is bounty hunter in need of strength!"

Finally she turned to look at the Elezen, before she slowly started circling him like he was being sold at an auction. In response Aurant did his best to remain still to get this inspection over as quickly as possible. "This is… bounty hunter?" She asked, lifting his arm by the elbow. "But how? Look at noodle arms. Too weak for hunting."

"That is why he hire Agnar." Her husband agreed, nodding. "It is big job… with big pay!"

"How big?" Amalie asked, narrowing her eyes as she sniffed at him, clearly trying to detect deception.

Aurant had to say something before he was driven mad by how uncomfortably close she was getting to his face. "Payout is one million… split between four peo-" 

"ONE MILLION GIL?!" She shouted, before quickly covering her mouth. The other refugees glanced over at the mention of wealth– the only conversations that mattered around here involved money. Amalie repeated it again, this time in a hushed whisper. "... one million gil…?!"

The Elezen cleared his throat as he looked around, trying to avoid suspicion. “Split… split… between four people.” In order to stop her from trying to do math like Agnar, he continued with, “But this isn’t just a grab a man and haul him to the authorities. This is a dead man walking with a history of violence and a gang of lowlives under his command. This could end tomorrow… or it could be a moon from now. The hardest part is finding their hideout, so it could be a while before you see your husband again.”

“We could afford apartment…” Amalie thought out loud, completely ignoring Aurant prattle on about the danger. “Live under roof… just like in homeland.”

“And eat real meat… not rat pelts and river water!” Agnar grinned, adding to her list of desires. His wife’s doey eyes flickered with delight as they giggled to each other.

She then turned back to Aurant. “What is name?”

“ACK! Agnar forget to ask!” Thought her husband, smacking his palm against his own face.

“I am Aurant Kulat, citizen of Ishgard and former soldier of the Order of the Twin Adders of Gridania.” He declared, matter-of-factly. 

“Amalie Bearclaw. Wife of Agnar Bearclaw.” She responded, extending a hand. “It is good you find husband work with big pay.”

Aurant gave her a warm smile as he gently shook her hand. “Not a problem, ma’am. I’m sure my colleague will love the good new-aaaagh!” Her grip on his hand tightened, and it felt like she fully intended to break something! She was shorter than Aurant by two heads, but her small size belied her brutal strength; he gripped at her wrist with his free hand as he dropped to a knee, making noises only an Elezen in pain could make!

“You bring husband back. Alive. In one piece. You will do this, yes?” She sneered, staring down at him with malicious intent. 

“Y-yes! Of course! You have my word he will be safe…!” Aurant gasped out in relief once she let go of him. He cradled his throbbing hand while he slowly rose back to his full height– brutish and uncouth, just as he feared. He looked up expecting her to still be glaring at him, but instead she was tongue-tied with her husband in a heated embrace. They were going at it like lustful animals– Aurant fully expected them to undress and pound away at each other right here in the open air!

“Stay safe.” She whispered, pressing her forehead against Agnar’s as they hugged each other. “Come back to me.”

“Now and always, Light of Life.” He smiled, running his thumb across her pillowy lips. He was reluctant to let go of her, but she was more eager to get out of this rinky-dink camp and lay on a real bed. So she pushed him away after one last smooch. No, two last smooches. Agnar adjusted his pants and turned to look at Aurant. “Agnar will need weapon.”

“Yes, yes, that will be arranged.” The Elezen waved his good hand as he started toward Ul’dah again. “Can’t keep my promise if you bring your fists to a gunfight. We’ll stop by the market to get you some clothes and a bath… by the Twelve you need a bath…!” Agnar lifted up his arm to sniff at his pit, reeling away and coughing before nodding in approval. “And then we shall wait for my colleague at the Quicksand.” Aurant rubbed at his hand and let out an exhausted sigh. “Hopefully he’s having a better time than I am…”

K’thalen was eight hundred malms to the west across the Rhotano Sea, in the heart of La Noscea, and deep in the underbelly of the capital city Limsa Lominsa. He was led underground into the dungeons by four guards and the jailer's assistant– after he was stripped of all weapons first, of course; they wouldn't risk giving these prisoners access to blades or firearms. After his thorough cavity search, he was brought down into death row, where every prisoner in this wing was sentenced to die. The prisoners rattled against the bars and cursed obscenities at them while they walked past, and every now and then a guard would pull out his baton and smack an overreaching hand to remind them of their place. But it wasn't until they reached the end of this long and curved hallway did they find the woman K’thalen was looking for.

"You have five minutes." Warned the jailer's assistant. "Call for us if you want to leave early." He and the guards stepped away to give them room, meanwhile the prisoner barely seemed to even notice their presence; she was covered in bruises and clapped in irons, keeping those dangerous fists of hers together at the wrist. But she was both a Roegadyn and a pugilist– it would take more than that to keep her bound.

"Mellow Rose." K’thalen called out, keeping a healthy distance from the bars. "Yer set to hang real soon. Fer banditry n'piracy."

Her red eyes simmered in torchlight when she glowered up at him. "What does that have to do with a little shite like you?"

K’thalen gave her a nonchalant shrug. "I come to ya with n'offer. Some reprieve. A stay o'execution, if'n yer interested. Wanna hear what I gotta say or should I start walkin'?" Mellow didn't move an ilm; she just stared at the Miqo'te with a glare potent enough to frighten a Lalafellin child into an early grave. But K’thalen was used to the glowering scowls of bandits– he's seen that look for most of his life. "The Maelstrom wants ya dead. Can't rightly blame 'em. Yer a dangerous woman. But as it happens, I'm n'the market fer dangerous women. Agree to help me with a job n'I can get ye outta this cell. I can pay yer bond as well… plus a lil'extra to help get ye a fresh start."

Her grimace only soured. "What trick are you trying to play? No one awaiting execution gets a bond."

"Aye," He confirmed, crossing his arms. "normally ye'd be right. But I had a chat with the jailer. He's willin' to let ye off with a slap on the wrist… as long as ye behave."

If she had known that fool was eager to be bribed she would have offered her body to him as soon as she was thrown in here. This Miqo'te had her curiosity, but now he had her full attention. "How much did you pay him?"

K’thalen reached into his coat and retrieved his pack of smokes; he was looking down but he still noticed her eyeing his cigarettes. "'Nough to gettem interested n'a deal. Question is… are ye interested n'a chance to clear yer name?"

When she rose to her feet, she towered over her would-be savior. A quick flex if her arms and the shackles popped apart like they were made of paper. Silently she pressed herself against the bars to get a better look at him; it wasn't until she was looming over him did he realize she was staring at him like wounded prey.

Mellow Rose was a dangerous woman. Those scarred knuckles of hers have seen the inside of more skulls than most could believe. They say she trained by pounding her fists against stone until they were hardened enough to shatter bones, and that she could behead a Hrothgar with a single uppercut. But K’thalen wasn’t interested in tall tales– he was interested in facts. And here's a fact; she was raised by bandits just like he was. She of all people could understand his childhood. Even if she never cared to know. Still he had to be careful not to let her- 

"And what's stopping me from twisting your head off once we're far enough from Limsa?" She finally spoke in a low and sullen tone.

K’thalen didn't answer– not at first. He tapped his pack and loosened a cigarette. Mellow followed the cigarette as he lifted it to his mouth and ignited it with some flint and steel. "Well…" He started, pausing to make a big show of filling his lungs with his burning medicine. “Nothin’, I reckon. Nothin’ but them lonely n’cold nights… that long fight to balance between a fire warm ‘nough to keep ye from freezin' but dim ‘nough not to attract others. Nothin’ but wanderin’ fer the rest a yer life. That fear, stalkin’ ye in the dark. Everytime ye close em red eyes a’yers ye take a gamble to see if’n it’ll be the last they'd open. Always lookin’ over yer shoulder. Fearin’ every sound, every flicker just outta sight, and every unfamiliar face. Reckon ye'd live that way fer the rest a'yer life. I know that life… 'cause I lived it too. S'far as I'm concerned that ain't no way a livin' at all. That's… just survival. So answer me this, Mellow Rose, do ya wanna live or do ya wanna survive?" He pulled the cigarette from his lips, turned it in his hands, and offered the rest up to her. Mellow stared at him like she's been doing, eventually glancing down at the peace offering and slowly reaching through the bars to take it.

She closed her eyes as she took the first hit in moons. The bittersweet smoke filling her lungs felt like a single drop of water touching her soul, the soothing heat in her throat was a welcomed bliss– a drink after wandering the desert for weeks. Then she exhaled, savoring the poison once again.

“What would you have me do… mister?”

K’thalen opened his eyes with a shudder, blinded by the glare of flickering orange light. Then he inhaled for the first time in too long, filling his burning lungs with the crisp forest air. He could barely feel his limbs and his head was swimming, but he forced himself to rise all the same. His face was sticky with something that wasn't water nor mud– a trembling hand reached up to wipe his forehead, pulling back to reveal fingers slick with blood. His blood. All he could hear was the muffled boom of thunder in the distance beneath the deep dull ringing, and he couldn't feel much of anything except for the bitter cold… and the gentle sway from the ground tilting and spinning around him. 

As his eyes readjusted, he realized he was surrounded by bodies. The dead lay still in the freezing mud, all wearing the bulky yellow jackets of his fellow Twin Adders. K'thalen buckled forward from his sudden and violent coughing fit; every time his body shook he could feel something jabbing him under his ribs. He tasted blood in his mouth where there was none before– he was bleeding internally for sure.

"Adders…!" He forced out with a trembling voice. "Sound… off…!"

"Aurant p-present…" answered a voice from his left. K'thalen turned to see the Elezen on his knees as well, with shrapnel sticking out of the bloodied mess that used to be his eye, and half of a Twin Adder recruit in his lap. "Captain…" He muttered, slowly looking up to meet his gaze. "They’re gone." K’thalen followed his pointed finger and looked onward to the sea, spotting a ship fleeing the scene in a hurry.

The ones responsible for this massacre got away…

Heat and awareness were reluctantly returning, followed closely behind with a great deal of pain. He had to grit his bloody teeth in a grimace while he rose from the muck. Just one dizzying step forward and his knees buckled, bringing him down with a painful grunt. “Adders…! Sound off…!” He repeated, looking around for any survivors; but there were none, just dozens of bodies laying still in the mud and rain. Bit by bit he recalled the events that led to this moment. There was an explosion… caches of black gunpowder hidden in the foliage, detonated when they got too close after chasing the ones responsible for this nightmare. K’thalen had led his command right into a trap and he was too tunnel-visioned in his fury to notice it before it was too late. And now he paid the price for his recklessness… they all did.

He lost the strength to try and stand again once he realized what just happened. As a captain he summoned all the volunteers he could muster to chase after these traitors… these turncoats. Most of them were rookies just starting in the Order of the Twin Adder. Bright eyed and filled with a naivete only the young could accomplish. And now… now they are all dead. A chain reaction of explosions tore them to pieces and sent him flying through the air. There should be others that survived… even if they're barely clinging to life. He had to help them– he had to save them!

"Captain, they're gone."

K’thalen's wandering fingers wrapped around a shard of lumber sticking from his gut. He looked down to realize just how much blood he was losing, but his impending death never even came to mind; he tried to rise back to his feet while doing his best to ignore the pain. He managed a single foot against the wetland before he slipped in the mud, landing on the stick and driving it deeper. "Captain!" Aurant weakly called out, but his voice sounded malms away. "Captain!!!" K’thalen used the last of his strength to roll over onto his back. It was how all Seekers of the Sun Miqo'te should expire– facing the sky with the warmth of the sun on their face. It was hidden behind the storm clouds but… it would do.

"Captain."

K’thalen jerked his head up at the sound of his voice, with half a cigarette in his mouth. He glanced over to see his friend staring at him with a thick scar peeking out from his eyepatch. "You were zoning out again…"

"Told ya not to call me Captain no more…" He sighed, reaching up to adjust his hat and pull out a fresh cigarette. 

Aurant gave him an empathetic smile. "Yes, well, old habits are hard to put down." He reached into his coat and retrieved a lighter. Click! The two were suddenly bathed in a soft orange light from the dancing flame; K’thalen said nothing, leaning forward to take a few puffs to ignite it. "I've been thinking about those traitors recently."

"It’s all I can think about." K'thalen thought to himself, breathing in deep to fill his lungs with smoke.

"It’s been almost three summers since they fled to La Noscea. They could be anywhere… how can you be sure they're here in Thanalan?" K'thalen gave his companion a doubtful look as billowing smoke shot from his nostrils like an angry dragon. It was his turn to retrieve something from his coat, choosing to unravel a parchment to once again remind him of the bounty.

"Wanted: N'kerro Tia." He read out after clearing his throat. "Robbery. Murder. Rape. Abduction. Arson. One million gil to the person(s) who brings his head to Marshal Dedenaji Titinaji, Immortal Flames outpost in Black Brush Station." He paused to give the Elezen a quizzical look. "If Ul’dah and their Syndicate believe he's out here, then that's good 'nough fer me. We outta track him down n'claim his misshapen head 'fore anyone else, aye?"

Aurant always tapped at his temple when he was deep in thought. "Agreed… but not by ourselves. Assuming Kerro is smart enough to keep his subordinates in line… we're looking at a bandit gang upwards of twenty or thirty… more if they've been recruiting. If we track him down without backup or a plan then they'll just kill us… and those backstabbing bastards will continue to breathe the same air as decent folks."

It was a fair assessment. As quick as K'thalen is with his revolver and as accurate Aurant is with his bow, two fools out for revenge would have a tough time taking on an entire gang by themselves; they needed people they could trust. People who wouldn't betray them. And most importantly… people they could rely on in a fight.

"... what is it?" Aurant asked. "You have that look again… already forming a plan? What's our first course of action?" K'thalen glanced over at his friend again, his face aglow with excited confidence. He stood up straight and took another long drag of his cigarette, shortening it by a third with a single breath.

"Aye, I know a few folks who can help. Let’s get some rest… I’ll meet you back at the inn.”

Aurant stalled because he wanted details, but eventually lowered his head and spun on his heel to take his leave. “As you wish, Captain.”

They would have to split up in order to grab the people he wanted. One was working right here in Thanalan, while the other was locked up all the way in Limsa Lominsa; neither were ideal but what choice did he have? Two people couldn’t take on an entire gang– not even the famous Warrior of Light saved the world on their own. But what K'thalen feared most was betrayal… and getting Aurant killed. Then he would truly be alone, right back to where he started all those summers ago.

“I’ve outlived every single person I’ve ever loved.”

He was halfway through a long drag of his cigarette when it dawned on him. His father, his brother, his lover, his friends– all gone, all dead. Today was K’thalen’s 35th nameday as well… making him older than even his own father when he was killed. His eyes flickered and shimmered for just a moment, frozen in time and unable to do, say, or think of anything. Then the moment passed. He blinked, he exhaled, and then he watched the silver cloud of smoke flee from his nose to scatter into the crisp desert air. Namedays were never anything to celebrate, not for K’thalen at least; for him it was just another year further from his birth and closer to his death. Another day of working… another day of drinking… another day of dead memories.

The sudden tapping on his hat and shoulders was so gentle and welcoming, and it could only mean one thing. He glanced over to his left to witness travelers and merchants alike running for shelter against the rain, but they were too late; by the time they realized what was happening, the showers came pouring from the starless sky to turn the dust bowl known as Thanalan into a mud hole instead. Not three heartbeats later and the man was soaked, feeling the warm desert rain seeping through his jacket. He didn’t bother running for shelter however– a storm this sudden and violent wouldn’t last. Instead he pinched his cigarette between his lips and breathed deep, filling his lungs with just the poison he needed tonight. A quick reach into his coat pocket reminded him of his missing canteen… which meant no drinking until tomorrow morning. That was a pity.

“Fuckin’ Augusta…” He muttered under his breath to no one. The spunky girl must have swiped it from him last night! She was determined to help him quit drinking it seemed… whether he was willing or not. “Promise s’a promise.” He closed his eyes and took another long drag, puffing out smoke as he crossed his arms and stared down at his own boots. He did ask for her help to get him to quit drinking, but now he risked being completely sober by the time he would crawl out of bed on the morrow. Sober K’thalen was angry… and bitter… and depressed. Alcohol helped keep his memories just hazy enough to ignore. But he couldn’t outrun his demons forever.

The Tia that dashed his father’s head upon that tree was likely long dead by now. No Nunh, large or small, has ever held that title for over twenty years; and that also applies to the Nunh that brutally butchered his brother right in front of him. The pirate bastard that shot his one true love was having his bones picked clean at the bottom of the briny deep, he was sure of that when piracy was outlawed in La Noscea. But that still left a dozen or so friends rotting in their graves without recompense. No, the murderers that took their lives still resides among the living– breathing the same air, drinking the same water…

Traitors one and all. Butcherers, rapers, thieves. The absolute lowest scum of this star and all others in the great dark beyond! Just thinking about them made K’thalen’s blood boil; he didn’t even notice biting his cigarette in half until buckled under the pressure and fell apart on its way down to the rain-soaked mud. He blinked again and regained his composure, choosing to simply spit out the remains instead of trying to salvage it for later. “They’ll have their day in the sun…” He thought to himself, gazing up at the giant crystal in the center of town. All he needed to do was find where their hideout was… a clue, a hint– any slip up on their end would reveal their tracks. But these monsters were trained by the Twin Adders of Gridania– many of whom trained directly under K’thalen himself. The ones in charge knew what they were doing… so he couldn’t count on them making any mistakes. Still… he knew they had to be here in Thanalan. That was enough to keep hope that he would root them out of their hiding place sooner than later. “My friends can’t rest until all y’all are burning in the bleakest, darkest, foulest pit of the hells. So I won’t rest either.”

K’thalen crouched in the wild grass, keeping his profile as low as he could manage. The boy's golden eyes flickered when his prey came sauntering out of the thicket, with a leg of venison in one hand, and a hatchet in the other. He was too far away for a successful ambush-- he needed to get closer! K'rehr lifted his dinner up to his mouth to take another monstrous bite, but he stopped just as he opened his mouth and flashed his fangs. He sniffed at the air inquisitively, his eyes narrowing and ears twisting about to pick up any sounds. Did he pick up his scent? Did he know he was there? Impossible! He came downwind, the boy was certain!

"Hrm…" grunted the man, his eyes sweeping his surroundings. A smart Nunh always stayed on high alert away from the safety of his tribe… there's no telling the depths a desperate young Tia would stoop to take his life and harem, and K'rehr was the smartest man K’thalen knew. His skeptical glare was chock-full of suspicion, but after a few lingering moments of silence he returned to his feasting. He sat down on a nearby tree stump and tore into his meal. There was no telling when the direction of the wind would suddenly change, giving away his presence with his scent-- it was now or never!

K’thalen crawled on all fours, his tiny hands carefully pressing into the dirt beneath his palms, his feet only stepping where his hands had been. Pointed ears poked through his mess of inky black hair and his burning yellow eyes sparkled in the dark. He kept to the shadows until the shadows ran dry, circling around the long way to stay clear of K'rehr's peripheral vision. Once he was close enough to smell that roasted meat, he adjusted his footing– which resulted in him wiggling his rear in the air, before he made the lunge!

"Aaahhh!" His father howled when he whipped around and caught the boy, falling from the stump to land on his back with a hard thud. K’thalen chomped at his forearm and drove his small pointy teeth into his leather sleeve, causing K'rehr to roar with feigned agony and genuine laughter. "Hahaha, very good! Very good! That's my boy!" He scooped him up into his arms and tossed him into the air like a pie dough; he even gave him a nice spin to get him twirling on his way down. “Soon enough you’ll be hunting real prey! Hahahaha!”