He stood alone in the middle of a field. The dry stalks of grass rubbed against his chin, some were tall enough to force him to shield his eyes against their sharpness. The only path before him led away into the murky dimness of blocked sunlight. He sighed and stepped forward once again. He must finish this journey that he had started in foolish haste. Slinging his satchel over his shoulder, he hitched up his belt, felt for his sheathed dagger and started determinedly, into that forbidden land.

Rumor had it that the great white eagle saw every being that passed through the field. If she so fancied, she let them pass. If not, then the hapless victims were the fodder of her young. One must not forget, also, the trer’kits. Those ferocious creatures devoured anyone they came across. Not one flikkit that Rogh had met had ever seen one and lived to tell about it.

His long ears flicked as he imagined sounds behind the impenetrable walls surrounding his path. He was a very sensible fellow, however, and shrugged off his irrational fears. He was Rogh after all! The fearless adventurer of the Flikkits, yet an outsider, never feeling at home.

Most flikkits his age had settled and raised several young flikkits of their own already. Rogh felt no need to do any of that. He was content with roaming the land, improvising new ideas, and sharpening his natural skills. With the present political state of his land, he was more than happy to stay away on prolonged excursions.

He did miss certain few things, however. One of which, being a slender white-haired flikkit Shaw, or young female. He sighed. He must remember that she was gone now. Snatched away by the river she loved to bathe in. He remembered how he had leapt frantically into the foaming water, desperately trying to reach her, but the current was too strong… too strong.

And his memories were too strong.

Rogh wrenched his thoughts away from the dreamy dead Shaw and focused on the task at hand. There was a strange, unfamiliar smell ahead. He cautiously crept forward, peering through the grass leaves, careful not to show himself. He saw that he was near the edge of a road. It stretched for eons in each way he looked.

But that was not where the strange scent was coming from. It was coming from two creatures walking down it. Rogh had seen such creatures only once before, when he was a very small Flikkit. But he was curious. He watched as they stepped off of the road and into the woods. His curiosity kindled, and he followed stealthily. He had to be careful in the coming dark though; his hair shone with the moonlight and was easily visible.

He pulled a dark cap over his head, being sure to leave his ears unencumbered. They streamed down his back, blending in with his long silver hair. He reached the far side of the road, and started in the direction that the two creatures had taken. After several minutes of careful tracking, he found their campsite. There was a dim fire simmering in a freshly-dug hole. Rogh recognized that trick. These two were in hiding.

The objects of his speculation were seated on opposite sides of the minuscule fire. The larger one appeared to be resentful, but curious, about his situation. The smaller, with the head of red hair seemed to be blithely ignoring him. She had two rather formidable axes slung across her back, held with a leather strap. He remembered their names.

They were Humans.