The daily life of a Sun Soul Monk began before dawn in order to welcome the first light of the day as well as to develop a life of discipline. Each day began with a half-hour meditation, which was also the most effective one of the day thanks to a fresh mind and body. Spiritual nourishment, Rasaad believed wholeheartedly, was just as important as eating a hearty meal.

He awoke that morning, however, to the peculiar sight of Xan packing in such a hurry that he was using his foot to cram his spellbook into his overflowing backpack while tugging at the flap. After many nights of sharing a room with the elf whenever they stayed at inns, Rasaad had become familiar with the elf's very-late night reveries. Xan's habit of reading books and studying his magic deep into the night usually resulted in him only arising from reverie at sunrise.

"Gather your things!" Xan barked the moment he saw Rasaad sitting up in bed. "We are leaving now!"

Before Rasaad could wipe the sleep from his eye, the elf had already left the room, slamming the door behind him. He couldn't think of a reason for the sudden sense of urgency, but he shaved as quickly as possible and grabbed his backpack, ninjato and the wakizashi Arquen had gifted to him from the floor. Unlike the others, he owned very few possessions and he always kept everything packed in order, even when he was tasked with carrying the spare armors and weapons.

Downstairs at the meeting hall, he was surprised to see all the women already awake. Especially Imoen, who normally didn't emerge until the morning was nearly over whenever she had a bed to lie in. But here she was, leaning against a table with a hand over her backpack, all ready to go.

"Nursing a hangover, moon-child?" Viconia asked as he joined the group.

"I do not drink any substances that may harm my senses," Rasaad told her. Never had, never would.

"Why, I never would have guessed." The drow rolled her eyes at him.

Her remark troubled him. Seriously, did he give her the impression that he was a drunkard? Perhaps he should to stop lingering in taverns after nine o'clock at night, if that would set a better example.

Over at the bar, Arquen and Xan were speaking to Bentley. "Very well. I shall hand this note to the Harpers if they stop over," Bentley was saying as he tucked Arquen's note into his pocket.

"I don't blame you for not sticking around. Just when you thought the iron crisis was bad, there is foul magic about," he continued, shaking his head. "Last night, my missus came upon three shadow creatures of sorts. Don't know where they came from nor where into the darkness they fled, but they managed to elude the guards and infiltrate the temple, they did.

"My poor, dear Gellana," the gnome wiped a tear from his eye, "she remains in bed this morning with poor health. If not for Garl Glittergold, she could've met with a crueler fate."

Rasaad listened with interest. This could be related to what he heard last night! He had been meditating when he thought he heard the sound of a single thunder clap. He had thought it strange that it occurred on such a clear night, and that a storm did not follow.

"I WILL KILL THOSE BASTARDS FOR WHAT THEY DID TO MY WIFE!" Bentley declared, slamming his fists on the counter so hard that a wine bottle toppled over and smashed on the floor.

Xan coughed as he stepped away from the broken glass and growing puddle of spilt wine. "We best be on our way," he said to Bentley, and gave Arquen a hard push towards the direction of the door.

"Shouldn't we stay to investigate this matter and provide some assistance?" Rasaad tried to stop the elf by placing a hand on his shoulder.

"No!" Xan said sharply, jerking Rasaad's hand away and raising a finger at him like reprimanding an offending puppy. Which meant any interference into the affairs of the Friendly Arm Inn was strictly out of the question.

In that manner, they left the inn and headed south.

"To Beregost," according to Imoen, but she didn't explain why they were going there, even when he asked. Rasaad thought she was uncharacteristically quiet that morning as he strolled at the back of the group with her. Usually she had plenty to say to him, and he mostly enjoyed her lively chatter (except when he was meditating), but today she walked with her head lowered, eyes fixed on the road.

He looked ahead to see the hooded Viconia several feet in front of Xan. Almost a great distance away was Arquen, who, if she moved any faster, she would have to break into a jog. Another strange sight, as normally he would be the one at the front. Thanks to the Sun Soul Order's training, he was accustomed to walking in big strides and moving swiftly. Marching didn't tire him as much as the others, so he usually scouted ahead in the shadows to keep an eye out for any impending danger, after which he would retreat to the back of the group to do a headcount (occasionally the girls would stray, to pick flowers for instance, or chase a squirrel for a mile or two, and he would have to go in search of them), then head back to the front, and so forth.

He decided to leave Imoen's side to walk with her sister instead. Arquen was fast becoming a good friend to him. It troubled him that something might be amiss. Of course he was fully aware that the murder of her foster father loomed over her head in the same way he would always be haunted by Gamaz's death, but there were also the everyday setbacks that he wished for her to avoid. Broken bones from battle, assassins, getting drunk, stubbing one's big toe on the foot of the bed… he always tried his best to prevent such things, and when things did go wrong, to make them right again.

Arquen didn't look up when he fell into step with her, but she did mutter a "hullo". He walked by her side in quiet contemplation for some time. The sun was starting to bathe them with its magnificent rays, the sky so bright in bursts of yellow that they couldn't make out the clouds. He admired the distant horizon where the sky met the lush landscape, and the road that stretched for miles ahead of them.

"It is a lovely day," he started by way of coaxing a conversation out of her.

"It is an extremely hot day," Arquen responded. She raised a hand to shield her eyes.

"As a Sun Soul Monk, I believe that a small fragment of the sun's divine essence resides within me, together with the light of Selune."

Arquen let out a little groan and started fanning herself with her hands. "Could you go easy on the sunshine stories? Maybe tell me something about snowstorms and icy winds instead?"

No allegory involving winter came to his mind, but he thought about his meditations last night, which didn't overly feature the sun.

"Do you ever stop to contemplate the moonlight reflected on water?" he asked her.

"Is this a riddle or something?"

"It's sort of a riddle, for the moon sheds no light on its own," Rasaad explained, happy that he managed to pique her interest as her brisk walk slowed to a more leisurely pace. "What we see as moonlight first came from the sun. From the moon it reflects again off the water before it reaches us."

"You're starting to sound more like an astronomer than a monk," Arquen said with a smile. Rasaad didn't know why, a smile was a smile was a smile after all, but when it was the upturned corners of her lips and the flash of her teeth on her angular face, he could feel his pulse quickening. And it made him want to speak to her about everything he was passionate about—whether it was Selune or Sun Soul training or the phenomenology of the spirit.

"My training at the Sun Soul monastery included much stargazing. Observing the motion of the moon, the shards, and the stars helped me understand that light connects us all," he told her.

"Obviously, not ALL of us," a sharp voice interrupted them from behind.

He looked over his shoulder and was surprised to see Viconia hovering at their backs, cheerfully eavesdropping.

"No, no, of course not," he clarified. "Those who dwell in the Underdark are deprived of both sunlight and moonlight."

"We are not the least bit deprived, moon-male. The cloak of Shar envelops us in secrets, and in secrets lies power," Viconia challenged.

"Darkness is a void, the absence of warmth, understanding, and humanity."

"'Humanity'? You rivvil are so arrogant!" The drow was scowling now.

Rasaad searched Arquen's face for her response, and the half-elf seemed to take on her usual, neutral, non-committal stance. "Viconia has a point," she remarked. "Don't you think so, Rasaad?"

Rasaad reflected on it for a moment, trying to locate a misunderstood line if there had been one and also his own understanding of drow and the teachings of Shar. It wasn't easy to empathize with people who prefer to dwell in shadows, but Rasaad had always tried his best to uncover how they came about their point of view. "If you mean her point about human arrogance, I agree we are all afflicted with this flaw to some degree.

"As for her embrace of Shar," he said firmly, "I will never submit to the void."

"Oh, but you should, moon-child." Viconia had now saddled up to his side, as if trying to stop him in his tracks. She bore her gaze into his eyes. There was a grin on her face, a sly one that made her look like she was about to pounce on him like a cat.

"You can begin by submitting to one who can instruct you in the truth that lies in darkness," she continued.

Ever since he heard that the drow was a priestess of Shar, he had been expecting such a debate. Yet it still made him very uncomfortable. He knew the power of Shar lay in secrets but it was as if she could penetrate his innermost thoughts… the darkest ones, where he was someone else. Someone a lot stronger. A lot wiser. Someone who could've kept Gamaz alive. The truth and answers that the light refused to provide him could finally be found, even if that meant searching in—and together with—the darkness.

He wished he never had those thoughts. He wished he was repelled instantly by Viconia's offer, instead of hesitant. Nobody else had ever proposed the possibility of following another path before to him, and here he had a willing teacher.

"I… I think it's time for my meditations," he stammered in the end.

"My, my, but that one flusters easily," Viconia remarked. Like she saw right through him. She was also gazing at him with that amused, teasing look he sometimes saw on Arquen and Imoen, except hers was much more eager.

Nobody else had looked at him that way before, and he wasn't even sure if he disliked it entirely.

"Viconia," Xan cleared his throat loudly. "I have a spell here that may help with your sensitivity to the sun."

Viconia perked up at the news and fell back with the elf. Grateful for being relieved of the conversation that was fast going downhill, Rasaad turned around to give Xan a thank-you nod, to which Xan replied with his why-am-I-doing-this sigh.

Rasaad turned back to the road again and cast a sidelong glance at Arquen, wondering what her views were of the dichotomy between Selune and Shar, light and darkness.

"Now, Rasaad, you were saying…?" She seemed unfazed by his exchange with Viconia, and even gave him an encouraging smile, which instantly restored his good mood. Once again, he was glad to have someone around now that Gamaz was gone, someone who reminded him of his spiritual convictions.

He decided to share his favorite illustration from the teachings of Sune, another sect under the Sun Soul Order: "As the monks of Sune put it, the sun blows a kiss to the moon, and the moon blows the kiss down to us. On this point my order agrees: The sweetest light is that which we reflect from others."

"What about your own light?"

Rasaad considered his words carefully. "I try to live by the tenets of the Sun Soul monks. I pray my light reveals the truth in darkness, offers succor to those in need, and obeys all just authority."

Yes, the light will reveal the truth in darkness, maybe not today, but one day.

"That sounds admirable," Arquen said. With a twinkle in her eye, she next queried, "What light do you see coming from me?"

"Your inner light? To be honest, I have given the matter some thought, and I… er…."

He recalled their first meeting in Nashkel. A man had been jeering at him and she had prevented a fistfight by casting a sleep spell on the entire crowd. When he started traveling with the party, she went out of her way to made him feel welcomed, giving him a fine wakizashi, potions, even a box of chocolates. She was now extending the same courtesy towards Viconia, someone who would've been shunned by everyone else.

"The kindness and mercy you have shown to others is more beautiful than moonlight," he told her sincerely.

"Thanks, Rasaad. You're not so bad yourself," she said.

Now he was confused. What did she mean by "You're not so bad yourself?" Did she mean he was not bad in the evil sense, and therefore a good person? Such a compliment embarrassed him though, since it was only a few minutes ago that he was entertaining some rather evil thoughts.

"I… uh… thank you Arquen. Hearing that from you means…"

He paused when he saw her covering her face with a hand. He could see her shoulders trembling.

"You are teasing me again, aren't you?"

"You really can't tell when I'm kidding, can you?" She finished the short fit of concealed laughter behind her hand before fanning herself again and switching back to a more polite expression.

"No, you always surprise me. I suppose that is one of the many reasons I am blessed to know someone like you."

"And I you," Arquen said, compelling him to smile all the way to Beregost.


"Nope, no Harpers came by," the podgy bartender said when he rose from behind the counter and saw Rasaad standing there.

Rasaad opened his mouth to speak but before he could say anything, the bartender added, "And I didn't hear any word about an Alorgoth, neither."

Rasaad nodded and thanked the man before leaving The Jovial Juggler.

It was their third morning in the town of Beregost. Every day, they had been stopping by the few taverns and inns to inquire if there were any sightings or word of Jaheira and Khalid. On Rasaad's rounds, he also took the opportunity to ask any new faces he came across about the elusive Alorgoth. No word on anything, so far.

He stepped out of The Jovial Juggler to make his way back to Feldepost's Inn when a little voice quipped, "You're funny looking!"

Rasaad peered down to see three small children staring up at him with goldfish eyes. The eldest boy looked no more than six years of age and had his front teeth missing. On either of his sides were a boy and a girl about half his age, both with thumbs still in their mouths.

He squatted down so that he was the same height as them and, smiling gently, he asked, "And why do you say that?"

The older boy told him, "You are balder than my baby brother and your face is covered in ink."

The girl popped her thumb out of her mouth and pointed at the tavern's signpost behind Rasaad. "You look funnier than the picture."

Rasaad turned around to see the signpost that bore the gaudy painting of a jester with a comical face painted in chalk-white, complete with a freakish motley hat. Oh dear… they were comparing him to that? And he looked funnier? He couldn't help but chuckle at their childish honesty.

"Are you one of them from the circus, who does backflips and stuff?" they asked him next.

"I am not from the circus, but I can do a backflip for you if you like."

The little faces lit up at the suggestion and three heads bopped up and down excitedly.

Rasaad stood up. "Watch this!" he told them, and leaped onto the banister that lined the front of the tavern. He flipped backwards effortlessly and landed on the ground right beside them. The children clapped and squealed in delight, their opinion of him quickly switching from "you're funny looking" to "you're so amazing!"

He stayed on and played with the children for some time, performing more backflips at their request, followed by frontflips. They told him in excited voices that they had seen him heading over to the Jovial Juggler in the mornings, and thought he was a performer or freak show of sorts, according to their understanding of the signpost's picture. They then asked him to show them how to do a handstand, which all of them tried to do in a row with their short legs up against the banister. Soon their friends came running over as Rasaad obliged them with a lesson on somersaults.

"So this is the extent of your investigative skills!"

A dry voice said upon Rasaad's demonstration of a spinning hook kick. The children had asked him to differentiate what a monk could do that a clown couldn't.

He turned to see Xan standing next to a girl with a cherubic face and pigtails. The enchanter had a disapproving look on his face as he folded his arms and tapped his foot impatiently.

"What are you doing over here?" Rasaad asked, patting a boy on the head to dissuade the inquisitive one from pulling off his bracelets.

"I was taking a walk, and couldn't help but notice that half the town's pre-school population was gathered in front of a tavern as if the age limit has suddenly been reduced to three."

Rasaad realized then that there were indeed over a dozen small children surrounding him now, all glancing back and forth between Xan and him as they spoke.

"The show is over for today," Rasaad told the kids, causing a chorus of boos at Xan's direction. Someone threw a stone at the elf and it bounced off his circlet. In an attempt to subdue the disappointed faces and glares, Xan brandished his moonblade and started running his fingers across the shimmering blade.

Rasaad hoped the elf wasn't doing this to threaten small children.

"Do you really need to spend so much time drawing attention to yourself?" the elf grumbled as Rasaad pried the last toddler away from hugging his leg with doting affection. "Didn't you preach an entire sermon on top of a crate the last time we were here?"

"I did not mean to idle about, I assure you," Rasaad said as they headed back to the Feldepost Inn. "It's just… the children reminded me of my own childhood in Calimport. Being an orphan in the streets, I used to watch with great envy the children who had parents to play with."

Rasaad was very fond of children, especially the urchins wandering the streets on their own, whether they were orphaned or had parents who simply chose to be absent. Whenever a child peered at him with interest—and many of them did as Sun Soul Monks were generally an uncommon sight—he would stop to give them a few minutes of his time. With the beggar kids, he couldn't always give them a gold piece, but he knew from his past that there was something equally if not more precious that he could give: time and undivided attention. That a kindly stranger cared enough to play a game with them, make them laugh, and dote on them… he knew they would remember the incident fondly for weeks to come.

"It may sound odd, but with little ones, you can easily give a sense of love and self-worth, or the opposite, rejection and shame. Such acts are immeasurable in gold, yet they have a more lasting impression than the satisfaction of a single meal."

"What was life in the streets like?" Xan asked.

"We begged, served and stole to carve out an existence. It was like we breathed chaos. It helped to have an elder brother I could follow, to protect me. If I were all alone, it would have been a completely different experience."

"Hmm. In Evereska I recall always being surrounded by people, and I liked being alone. Perhaps because I was surrounded by louts."

"I was talking about the time I was six though."

"So was I."

Rasaad decided not to say anything else. He also felt a small pang of foolishness for rambling about his past to Xan, again. Even though Rasaad couldn't imagine being of a more noble pedigree—a Greycloak, a moonblade wielder, an enchanter, a supercentenarian—the elf suffered from melancholy and he didn't want to bring up any demons from his past.

"I am planning to depart for High Hedge this noon. I should be back tomorrow if no bandits or beasts waylay my course," Xan said.

Glad the elf changed the subject, Rasaad asked, "What is in High Hedge, Xan? Perhaps I could accompany you."

"Why not? The more the merrier in death. As for our destination, should we survive the journey, there is a powerful mage with an extensive collection of scrolls and magical items."

Back at the Feldepost Inn, they found Arquen and Imoen lounging around the unlit hearth, in the middle of a chess game.

"Any news?" Arquen looked up eagerly. Rasaad shook his head and she sighed. But when Xan told her about High Hedge, her expression lit up again.

"Great! It'll be a nice change of scenery!" she said happily.

"Actually, I would highly suggest that only Rasaad and I go. You ought to remain here with Imoen and Viconia, to stay out of trouble."

"But, why?" Arquen's face fell again and she pouted.

Xan sighed. "Weren't you paying attention to the last thing I said? Never mind… We will be dealing with a mage who has the reputation of being highly strung—"

Imoen interrupted him by coughing out the words "pot" and "kettle".

"—and the presence of a drow might offend him. Viconia obviously cannot stay here by herself as she doesn't know what Jaheira and Khalid look like, and you cannot expect her to answer the door without drawing unwanted attention."

Imoen pointed at Rasaad. "What about Rasaad? He can stay in the same room with Viconia for one night!"

"GODS! NO!" both Arquen and Xan screamed… as if the very idea of him and Viconia in a room together was unthinkable… Rasaad didn't know why though. Obviously he could defend himself against the drow with a snap to her neck. If she wanted to speak to him about her worship of Shar again, he would simply lay down the two hundred points of Sun Soul apologetics this time. What else could she possibly do to him inside a bedroom?

"It still doesn't make sense why all five of us can't just go together," Imoen said sharply. "You're trying to get away from us, aren't you, Xan? And trying to rope poor innocent Rasaad in with you!" She wagged an accusing finger at the elf.

Xan covered his face with his hands and started massaging the sides of his head. He counted one to ten in Elvish under his breath. "Can the both of you please just stay here? Or at least one of you?" he implored.

Fortunately for the enchanter, the second option seemed to appease the girls, and they made a game out of it. Arquen took out a silver coin and balanced it gingerly on the back of her thumb. "I'll flip you for it, okay?," she told Imoen. "Heads, I win! Tails, you get to go on the wild excursion to High Hedge!" She flicked the coin high into the air.

It landed with a 'plink' on the floor, with heads facing upwards.

"Aw…" Imoen looked crestfallen.

"Looks like the boys and I will be going on an adventure! Now go fetch my things!" Arquen announced, retrieving the coin.

"Hey! Since when did I become your servant?" Imoen asked with an incredulous look on her face.

"Oh, didn't you read the terms and conditions of the contest? The loser has to submit to humbly serving the winner in the preparations for the trip!"

"Bully!" Imoen gave her sister a punch on the arm but skipped off to their room all the same. Xan excused himself to pack, leaving Rasaad and Arquen in the common room.

"Don't you need to pack?" Arquen asked him, as she carried on a solitary game of flicking the silver coin into the air and catching it at the back of her hand.

Rasaad shrugged. "It will only take me a minute. All I have to do is get my backpack and weapons."

"I honestly don't know how you manage it. We have to empty our packs if we want to find anything," she remarked as she balanced the coin on her thumbnail.

Rasaad watched the coin flipping in the air. There was something peculiar about its design. He waited for Arquen to flick it again, then snatched the coin in mid-air.

"Hey!" Arquen cried. She jumped from her seat in an attempt to snatch the coin back, but he merely grabbed her wrist and twisted her around. She had never been able to break free of any of his armlocks whenever they sparred together, and he was a foot taller than she was so it was easy to avoid her flailing punches and kicks.

He inspected the coin with his free hand, and just as he suspected, the reason it looked strange was because it was double-sided with heads on both sides.

"I cannot believe you just deceived your own sister!" Rasaad stared at the offending coin and back at her.

He released his hold on her and she pounced on his fist, prying his fingers loose one by one to free the coin.

"Oh, come on now. I do it all the time. I'm more surprised that Imoen still hasn't figure it out," she said when the coin was back in her possession.

"Arquen, it isn't right…"

"Fine, you goody two shoes. If you really feel so bad about it, I'll just let Imoen go instead. I'll even apologize for cheating. Happy?"

"But I do want you to go!" Rasaad blurted out, before he realized how dishonorable it made him sound. He should not be preferring her over Imoen, or Viconia for that matter. As he fought on the front lines of battle, he was honor-bound to protect all three of them, equally.

"Then there's nothing wrong with tweaking things in our favor, is there?" She gave him a mischievous wink that made him feel both elated and guilty at the same time.

Imoen came skipping back right then with Arquen's backpack, which she dropped at Rasaad's feet. Arquen's expression fell back into formation as if she had just been talking about the weather.

"Have fun, you two!" Imoen told them cheerfully, giving her sister a hug. "Don't become one and come back with three!"

Now what did Imoen mean by that? Were they planning on meeting someone new in High Hedge?


The three of them spent the rest of the day hiking westwards from Beregost through a well-trodden forest trail.

Rasaad couldn't help but notice how their journey was a lot less… stressful (Xan would say "restrained pandemonium") without the presence of Imoen and Viconia. As he admired the serene forest landscape around them, he imagined it to be a beautiful scenic painting. Imoen would've been a garish splatter of hot pink handprints, and Viconia the burnt black edges still threatening to engulf the entire canvas in flames.

That was a most unkind thought. Selune forgive me.

He looked over his shoulder at Arquen. How she seemed a lot more… mellow (Xan would say "of sound mind") on her own. She was walking next to Xan, chatting about spells and proposing scrolls they should purchase from High Hedge. The elf, too, appeared more animated than usual and waved his hands about as if to illustrate casting a spell.

Rasaad would like to join in the conversation, alas he knew very little about magic. Imoen asked him before about how he became an "instant torchbearer" and created his "doughnut of fire". His explanation that Sun Soul Monks could "emanate rays of light to those drenched in darkness" made no sense to her. Then Arquen had asked if he was "perpetually on heat" and when he answered "I suppose so", they didn't stop laughing at him for a tenday. He never figured out why, but after that distressing experience, he shied away from all talk of magic.

So he fell into the role of scouting ahead, and that was when he ran into the gnolls' ambush.

As the trail widened towards the southwest and the stone towers of the High Hedge Estate came into distant view, a pack of six gnolls sprang from behind the trees to intercept his path. Rasaad was surprised that he didn't hear them earlier as gnolls were not known for moving silently, until the leader of the pack pointed its halberd at him and growled, "Smells like dinner."

He also wasn't able to detect the scent of gnolls as well as the beasts could smell humans. Only up this close as the pack surrounded him could he smell their dog breath and grimy fur.

They charged at him and he skittered through the pack, leaping onto the poles of their halberds to deliver swift kicks to their snouts and ricocheting himself around so that the gnolls, though quick creatures themselves, hesitated to strike out because they seemed to keep coming face to face with their own in the circle instead of the slippery monk they thought they had cornered.

In a moment, a dizzying burst of vivid colors swept over the pack as Xan joined the battle, blinding most of them. Arquen launched couple of magic missiles to take down the first gnoll.

Three gnolls gnashed their teeth and took off after the interfering spellcasters, leaving Rasaad to wrestle with the blinded leader, now swinging wildly with his halberd as his henchman tried desperately to grab the monk.

A few seconds later, Rasaad left one beast with a jaw snapped to its chest and the other with half its head bashed in. Some yards away, Xan sheathed his moonblade and stepped over two still-jerking corpses.

Then Arquen's scream filled the air. Rasaad and Xan looked around quickly to realize that a gnoll was still missing from the pack and so was Arquen. Dread overwhelmed him as he rushed towards the direction of her screams ahead of Xan.

He found her dragged some distance away into the wild foliage, pinned down by the bulky beast with its pawed foot on her shin. The gnoll jerked her arm backwards awkwardly and was about to lean in for a bite. Its other filthy hand was gripping, of all places, the back of her thigh much too far up to keep Rasaad from flying into a hysterical rage.

"Let her go, dog!" he screamed.

The gnoll snapped it head up, and darted its gaze from Rasaad to the fast-approaching Xan. Realizing the rest of its pack was most likely dead, it dropped the half-elf's arm and fled with a howl.

Rasaad rushed over to Arquen and pulled the half-elf to her feet. She was visibly shaking in his arms. He brushed her long hair aside, swept a leave off her cheek, and saw her face streaked with terror.

That beast almost hurt her. He let the beast almost hurt her.

The gnoll had ran off to the south. He let go of Arquen and charged in its direction. Xan shouted after him—"Let it go, Rasaad!"—but no, he was going to hunt that beast down and shatter its skull!

Trees zipped past him and he kept an arm up in front of his face to push all the branches out of his way as he sprinted through the wilderness. Gnolls were fast creatures, but so was he. Eventually the trees parted into a clearing, and he stopped to get a better sense of where the gnoll may have fled to.

He needn't had bothered, as the runaway gnoll re-emerged on its own accord, having regrouped with another two of his pack. All three gnolls growled menacing at him, dripping saliva as they surrounded their dinner. Rasaad raised his fists in return to coax the gnolls into making the first strike, ready to beat the foul beasts down to a pulp.

A pale, smooth arrow slammed itself into the runaway gnoll's temple, and the beast fell limped to the ground on its side.

Two more arrows followed within seconds of each other with deadly accuracy, hitting the second gnoll in its chest, and the third in its neck.

Surprised with another ambush, Rasaad prepared himself to deflect an arrow shot if it came. It was difficult to see beyond the dense trees and bushes, until a bush rustled and a leg, camouflaged with its earth-colored trousers, stepped out. The deadly longbow emerged next, with an arrow in place and aimed at Rasaad. Rasaad put his hands up in a gesture of non-hostility, but ready to disarm the bow or snatch the arrow in a split second if he needed to.

The camouflaged figure stepped further into the clearing, and Rasaad recognized it to be an elf, though this elf and Xan were as different as night and day. He bore tribal tattoos on his forehead and chin, and had wild, uncombed hair. His clothes resembled the colors of the forest, from his frayed cloak to his boots. He appeared almost feral.

"Well met. Thank you for your aid in killing these foul beasts," Rasaad said anyway. The elf didn't respond, not even with a smile. He fixed an intense gaze on him, before the voice of Arquen calling out for Rasaad steered his attention away.

The half-elf came running over, with Xan trying to keep up. Rasaad forgot about the wild elf's presence for a moment as he turned to Arquen. Was she still in shock from the gnoll's encounter? Her legs weren't wounded if she could still run. Her cheeks and neck were still stained with dirt though—he desperately wanted to wipe it away, as much as he wanted to wipe away her memory of the incident so that she could never recall almost being mauled by a gnoll… but… how?

If there had been an opportunity for him to do something, it slipped away when she stopped a few feet from him to regard the wild elf with interest. "I couldn't get the spell out in time to stop the gnoll," she said slowly, keeping her eyes trained on the new elf, who finally lowered his bow. Xan reached the group then, a little short of breath.

"I was thanking this elf for lending us his bow," Rasaad told his companions. Xan looked at his kinsman and uttered something in Elvish. The elf responded in a gruff voice. They exchanged a few words, neither looking thrilled or put off by the other.

The wild elf turned to Rasaad and Arquen again. "What foolishness takes city dwellers this far from civilization?" he asked in Common.

Rasaad considered pointing at Xan, but associating "Xan" with "foolishness" seemed rather offensive so he held his tongue as well as finger.

"We're adventurers, on the lookout for evil to smite," Arquen told him. The half-elf had always assumed the role of the leader of their group, which Rasaad always admired (Xan sometimes complained she wasn't wise enough to lead, but believed it was better than putting him in charge and getting everyone killed). She sounded a little odd though, a little jittery. A guise to mask her earlier feelings of terror. He wished again that he could do more than just stand by her side.

The wild elf appeared to like what Arquen said though. "A strange coincidence! I have a quest similar to your own," he said, finally giving them a half-smile. "I have been hunting the bandits in the region for the past few months."

Arquen's eyes lit up at the knowledge of having a common enemy.

"Perhaps if we worked together we would fare better. What say you to that?"

Arquen turned to Rasaad with a smile and a nod. He smiled and nodded back. They could certainly use a skilled archer.

Xan spoke next, in Common for the benefit of all. "We'll help you against the bandits, but only if you tell us why you've spent months hunting them."

The elf's dark eyes flashed intensely again. "Their leader, an ogre named Tazok, took the life of someone very dear to me," he said with a growl.

Tazok… At the sound of that name, a shadow cast over Arquen's face. They hadn't even exchanged names with the elf yet, but already it felt as if they shared a bond and deep understanding, of what it meant to lose someone precious in their lives, and what it meant to hunt down the people responsible for that lost.

The elves reverted back to their tongue, no doubt going on about their knowledge of the bandits, Rasaad felt something soft finding its way into his hand. He looked down to see Arquen's hand touching his, tightening her grip around his fingers as she listened and nodded grimly with the elves. Whether she was fully aware that she was holding his hand or doing it unconsciously, he wasn't sure. If Imoen were here, she would probably be the one comforting her sister instead. If not Imoen, if Xan had been the one standing next to her, would she have held his hand too?

Apart from not being familiar with the elven tongue, Rasaad wasn't familiar with such… physical contact.

Whatever it may be, she had reached out to him, for comfort and assurance it seemed, and he wanted her to know that he was going to be there to provide it, in the manner she desired. He squeezed her hand back, and then, somewhat guided by impulse, stroke her soft skin gently with his thumb.

Their meeting with the ogre-blooded Tazok would come soon, that much he knew. With the new elf's bow, they could be ready to press forward to the bandit camp as soon as they were done in High Hedge and returned to Beregost to pick Imoen up.

And Viconia. He almost forgot they had Viconia with them now.