Chapter one:
Drabe had faced many difficult battles, but nothing could prepare him for this. Intress had been the first to assign this job to him, or rather, to ask it of him. Technically this was not a mission at all, but Drabe didn't doubt it would have its share of dangers. At first Drabe had simply said 'No', knowing even Intress didn't have enough authority to make him accept her challenge. She had been on the verge of crying, but it could not be helped, it was simply more than the experienced warrior could handle.
Even Najerin, with all his wisdom and years on the battlefield, had told Intress it was more than he could take. If the High Muge of the Overworld could not control the natural disaster, what made Intress think he could do any better? If everything Drabe had heard was true, then it was a wonder Intress had not lost her mind, and if even Najerin couldn't deal with this, than apparently everything Drabe had heard was true.
Three days went by, allowing the thought to slowly ease its way out of Drabe's mind before Maxxor called for him. On the way to the throne room, it crossed Drabe's mind that perhaps Maxxor was going to assign him to that suicide mission. Drabe shook the idea out of his head and laugh it himself for thinking it. Why would Maxxor assign him to that?
But apparently fate had a sick sense of humor.
"Drabe," Maxxor said nervously as he looked at him from his throne "Intress has to go on a very important mission."
"And you wish for me to escort her?" Drabe asked as hopefully as he could. He hoped with every fiber in his body that Maxxor was sending him on a dangerous, life threatening mission. His legs were getting weak, his heart was racing, and his fur was getting sticky from the sweat as he struggled to push the other possibility out of his mind. "You want me to protect her?"
Maxxor shook his head and gave the older warrior a look of apology "Intress has chosen you to look after Aivenna while she's gone."
The rest of what Maxxor said went in one ear and out the other. What sort of horror could a mere child create? First she had been kicked out of day care, then, mere weeks afterward, guards had heard Najerin tell Intress that he could not handle that child. A little kid, the creature equivalent of four years old, had defeated Najerin in some way. But yet Intress had chosen Drabe to babysit for the next ten to fourteen days. What had he done to deserve this punishment?