Survival

With a curved bow in his hand, he marched through the barren wasteland underneath the mask of darkness the land has given him. Soon, he shifted from being out in the open towards the cover of trees and rocks to hide him from sight. He waited, and his instincts were correct for soon, he had heard voices. Voices he recognized – one was croaky and crisp with age and weariness, whilst the other was simply aggressive and showing strength through even his voice.

It was a cruel night – dark and cold, empty of emotion yet corrupted, and it stabbed Nenusidh’s warm heart like a knife. The land was giving the ranger a message – a rather bitter message at that, that there cannot be mercy. The moon was neither bold nor strong enough to best the cruel skies, and the stars were too few and much covered. The land was covered in darkness, yet despite so, there was a fragment of light within the ranger.

'This is not a good idea.'

She looked around,  keeping her head low, as she passed the guard at gate.  The man nodded, barely taking time to do more than glance at the blue robes she was wearing, before waving her on.  A lucky encounter with a distracted sorcerer had gained her the disguise; a helm from near a sleeping  guard adorned  her head, covering her pale gold locks. Even Tank didn't seem out of place in this hostile place as several other large cats appeared to roam freely.