Mar never walked this far before in his life. How was it possible for every muscle in his body to ache so much? Even his tail was hurting. Mar's stride became shorter and shorter. It would not take long for someone to notice.
"Maybe we should stop for the night, Forestwind," Chloria suggested.
Those words were all that was needed for Mar to collapse to the ground. He spread his limbs apart to cool off everything. Mar heard a low thump beside him and realized that Gorian too, was just waiting for someone to tell them to rest. There the two lay, on the Matta Trail. Somewhere between Meovanni and Slen.
"No," Forestwind spoke up behind the two, "We should keep going for another two hours."
Mar swore quietly at him.
"For what purpose?" Chloria asked, "Mar and Gorian are exhausted."
"Then we'll leave them."
"I'm staying," she said, "Mar, Gorian, we stay for the night."
Gorian mumbled a thank you as Mar braved a casual wave. The two slowly began to pick themselves up off the ground. They were cautious of Forestwind, for it would have been easy for him to push the two back to the ground. But the green brother just stood and glared at them.
"Gorian, you're making the fire," Forestwind ordered, "Mar set up the tents. It might rain tonight."
Mar looked back at Chloria. She gave him a reassuring smile as she went into the brush. He decided it was best if he followed her brother's orders for now. He sighed as he took out a large piece of hide from Forestwind's bag. It appeared to be a piece of tent.
"I need wood for a fire, right?" Gorian asked.
"Yeah," Mar replied, "Look for dead wood. Green doesn't burn very well."
"That's too bad. I'd love to burn his highness."
He laughed at his friend. Leave it to Gorian to lighten the mood a little. Mar bent to open Chloria's bag and was immediately rewarded with a sharp pain in his back. He regretted turning down Kaelin's offer to train him. He should be better prepared for a long hike.
Mar pulled out another sheet of hide, of what animal he did not know. Perhaps, he thought, it was the skin of a vamp. Mar felt an uncomfortable feeling inside him, but shrugged it away. The vamp would have deserved it. They would make better tents than furres. A loud rustling noise from his left alerted him. It was Gorian carrying a large load of wood.
"You feel as dead as I do?" Mar asked.
"I'm beyond dead," Gorian answered, "I'm having dinner with Ayem tonight."
"I thought Ayem was a loner god."
"He is, but we're both plotting against Forestwind."
Mar laughed as he stood up. He looked around for long pieces of wood to build a tent over. Perhaps the god of dusk would point the way for me, he thought. If Ayem was real. Mar never understood that concept. There was not even a temple in Yrdnal, but everyone he knew in Meovanni regularly went to one and worshipped the god. Everyone that is, except Kaelin.
Mar took a moment to pause. He should not have been such a jerk to Kaelin before he left. He recalled those mornings when Gorian and the others went to the temple. Kaelin and himself had the entire town to themselves. The two certainly bonded over the years.
"Why won't this work?" Gorian asked.
Mar looked down at his friend's collection of wood, "I'm not sure. I've never built a fire before."
"Well this is a drag," Gorian complained. He looked over Mar's shoulder and smiled, "Perhaps Chloria could help us out?"
Mar turned and saw his new friend behind him grinning. She was extremely quiet, he noted, so was her brother. Mar glanced around them for Forestwind but could not find him. He hoped her brother abandoned them.
"You two don't know how to build a fire?" Chloria asked.
"I don't even know how to set up a tent," Mar added.
Chloria laughed. She bent down over Gorian's pile of wood and inhaled the air around it. Mar looked on, puzzled at what she was doing. Chloria blew into the wood and before he knew it, smoke was rising off one of the twigs. He saw Gorian's jaw drop at the performance and Mar realized that he too was gaping.
"I never saw anyone do that before," Gorian said.
Chloria smiled back at the two as she stood up. Behind her was the flicker of the first flame. Mar shook his head. It was astonishing. And Gorian was right, Mar never saw anything like that before.
"Keep adding slightly larger pieces of wood on it to keep
it going," she said to Gorian, "Now Mar, to the tents!"
* * *
"I thought no single furre could possess two elements," Damoxte countered.
She looked at the ragged thin furre of the dead beside her and waited for the answer. Dark Harvest took his time, as always, she noted. He just looked at Chloria, as if studying her. The air grew stale once again, which meant his answer was forthcoming. If Damoxte were alive, she would have burned her nose from the stench.
"She is the furre of seasons," Dark Harvest rasped, "She made the wood dry with the drought of summer which helped spark the blaze. She can make fire, but she cannot control it. She is not furre of fire."
"I used to think that the furre of fire would be the worst to deal with," Damoxte muttered.
"No," furre of dead continued, "Each furre that hosts an element could be dangerous with their power. Just like you were at one point ... as your friend is now."
"And to think," she recalled, "He hated to host something as dull as soil. Little did we know how powerful he really was."
Damoxte felt air leave Dark Harvest's lungs. It was as if he were deflating slowly. She looked up at her master with curiosity. Maybe, she actually felt concern for him. She discarded that reasoning. She still hated him.
"What's wrong?" she asked him.
"I felt an echo."
She blinked, "What does that mean exactly?"
"Your friend is near. Furre of land is travelling."
Damoxte reached for her sword, but realized a second later that it was gone. She lost it when she died a century ago. All she had in possession was a purple hooded robe. It was not exactly her uniform of choice, but it was easier to interact with living furres with clothes on.
"Where is he?" she asked.
Dark Harvest paused. Damoxte waited, for she knew how long he took to answer her. It was usually irritating, but she realized that he may just need the time to figure out the location of the officer of Xte. Stale air seeped out of him and she expected his response.
"He is along a trail north of here."
Damoxte relaxed a little. Harvest was speaking of the Gillia trail, a day's journey from where they were. If her 'friend' were coming this way, Mar and Gorian would be gone by the time he got here. If he were heading this way.
"Which way is he going?" she asked.
Another pause. She looked down at her bare pink feet draped over by her robe. She could not believe that she died without trimming her claws. She remembered that she had planned to do them that day. Damoxte shook her head in disgust. 'Always be prepared', Gorian the Warrior said. She hated it when he was right.
"He is heading for Meovanni."
That struck a chord within the furre of time. Damoxte looked up at her master with concern in her eyes. The furre of land was after her best student. The furre of water. Kaelin.
"Kaelin is the only one I know who could defeat him," Damoxte said trying to assure herself.
"Unless he has a plan to defeat her."
"If he does," Damoxte looked down at her feet, "Then it's over."