It was long past sunset when Jeric arrived home. It was a small pine cabin on the edge of town, little more than a warm wood box. He went in for a minute, just to warm up, and reflect on his life. Inside, he set down his thick coat, quiver, and bow, and settled down in front of the fire. Funny, he'd barely been gone long enough for the new log to catch fire. His master said life was a series of hairpin turns, and while Jeric had initially believed him, he now more deeply felt the truth of the statement.

He slowly surveyed the room. The rough, unpainted walls danced with fine shadows, as though the grain was sliding along the boards. His plain bed sat neatly folded without a single wrinkle or stain. A small dresser sat beside it, the only thing he had from before his life began, or maybe began again was more accurate. He had never felt much affection for the carved piece of old ceader, some, but not much. It was his master's doing, this sparsity of things. Jeric had learned to live from himself as much as possible, without using the world as a crutch. "The most an object can be," His master had said. "Is a false repository for an arbitrary thought."

So true, Jeric thought, so true. With that, he rose, took his essentials back up, and left. As he opened the door, a cold gush of air flowed in, and snuffed out the fire. An instant later, a hand seized his sholder, and a voice issued from a hooded figure. "Change of plan." Jeric's heart twitched like it had been kicked by a horse shod with lead shoes. That voice... "Master?" He gasped, the cold air stinging his throat. A brief smile flashed on the shadowed face. "Your quick deduction is appreciated, if not your penchant for the obvious." His master glanced back. "Awww crap, we have to run now. Come on!" He took off, Jeric at his side. 

As they pounded towards a nearby grove of trees, Jeric made out several figures behind them. Upon closer inspection, they appeared to be wearing red robes. The only people who wore red robes were... "Are those curseweavers!?" He screamed, voice bordering on girlish. "Uh, yeah..." His master replied feebly. "I aparrently uh, was not as candestine as I'd thought..." "What?" Jeric shouted back. "It means sneaky!" "I know that!" Jeric shouted angrily. "I meant how could you botch this so badly!" An arrow made of lighting shot past to emphasize the point. "Not botched yet!" His master shouted back indignantly. "Merely changed!"

They kept running for a few minutes, dodging the occasionally badly aimed shot. Then, as they neared the grove, there was something akin to a snow eruption around the weavers. While his master stopped immediately, Jeric got behind a sturdy oak before stopping his flight. A glance around the side revealed four robed corpses, and two charred ones. His master's tongue could be heard clicking. "Poor souls. Earn every penny of their pay, only to die in the process." With a sigh, he walked over and began rifling through the bodies. While Jeric found this a little distasteful, he had long ago accecpted his master as a roaring pragmatist. "Who were they?" Jeric asked, joining his master at the cadavers. He refrained from the looting however. "Sergal mercenaries. Effective and obedient, though simple as lobotomized snails." "What kind of snail?" Jeric asked, a hint of annoyance at yet another demonstration of his master's overwhelming knowledge. "Never mind." His master answered, pocketing the few items of worth he'd found. "Their minds posess the sharpness of rotted wood, to put it simply." 

"I see." Jeric responded as his master stood. "Master, uh..." "Yes?" "Could I see your face?" Jeric asked with a hint of shyness. His master laughed. "Sure, I'll even give you my name. You can call me Ahr'na." With that, he flipped back the hood, revealing a canid face like Jeric's own, only tan furred, with leaner and sharper features, and strange white-in-purple eyes. However, the presence of round, black pupils kept the effect from getting unnervingly bizzare. "Oh," Ahr'na interjected. "While we're at this..." He mumbled something, and Jeric suddenly became aware of Ahr'na's tail. It was a massive affair, thick and armored in brown plates like a centipede. It even had it's own four legs to keep it off the ground. "There." Ahr'na stated. "All my oddities revealed. Now, we have a long journey ahead of us, so let us begin!" Jeric scratched his head. "Long journey to where?" "Oh, well" Ahr'na expliained. "The magic might go to one of several candidates, so we're going to go to a midway point, regroup, and wait. And before you ask, yes, I will know whaen it happens, and who it happens to. Now come! The game is afoot!" Ahr'na laughed. "I love saying that. But seriously, we have to get a move on."

And that they did.