Braigion paid little heed to the tall elf riding ahead of him; the Avar merely sulked in frustration and sadness as the crazy horse he was forced to ride followed behind. It was a little better than being on foot, where every step would be extremely painful as a result from his foot nearly being chopped off by a bear trap. It started in the middle of the night, and Braigion was off hunting by the cover of darkness. The higher ones’ camp was a fair ways to the west, so he would not be seen and hopefully undisturbed by what seemed to be hunters…
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