Chapter 2
Wolf and the Slithering Specter
Just outside the modest outpost of Trapper's Loop, by hence of a league or so, Holo, much to the relief of her passengers, brought the sled runners to a halt. It was discovered along the way that the sled was not designed to be pulled by a wolf of her stature nor at the speeds she mustered on account of one strap breaking and, when taking a bend, it toppled over ejecting it's occupants.
Upon dismounting Agatha informed them that she and Nikiski would go and collect their bounty, return, then discuss future endeavors from there. Holo lay on her stomach and patiently awaited with the others. After ten minutes the brims of their heads were crowning the hill. Though every party member had differing expectations regarding the sum to be acquired they were all pleasantly surprised to see a bulging bag of gold and silver in Agatha's possession.
Yet the joy of renumeration was replaced with melancholy upon their countenances followed by Agatha's pained remark, "A good chunk of this were the shares of those who perished, let's spend it wisely yeah?"
Beholding the ruin upon the sled Holo replied, "A wagon would be the most logical choice, yes?"
"Aye, but what of horses?" inquired Agatha knowing the expenses of such beasts this far north called for higher dubbance.
"If we can secure the wagon I can pull it further south to where a team can be fetched for a much cheaper price."
"Raven…" came the gentle whisper of Nikiski.
Agatha interoperated his meaning then spoke for him, "I suppose this Raven may be of help in that regard."
Jethro folded his arms and pondered intentionally aloud, "Does he own horses?"
Nikiski nodded.
"Will he simply employ them and himself to our cause?" came his inquiring addendum.
At this Nikiski paused and seemed hesitant.
Emilio suddenly spoke up, much to the ire of the one who scrutinized him, "How do you know this? Do you even know where to find him?"
Ranger's hand seized his shoulder with such a scrupulous grip that it commanded the boy's silence.
Holo sided with the boy in her own way, "Agreed, how do you know of his dwelling after all these years apart?"
Nikiski made no grand adjustment in his stature yet he lacked just enough subtlety to display he was hiding something. Holo looked to Agatha who enforced the sentiment of the man she stood beside.
"But you are sure you can find him?"
"Undoubtedly." said Agatha enacting as his mouthpiece.
Holo partially rolled on her side and began licking her paw which gave inclination for them to retake their place in Trapper's Loop to obtain a wagon. Oddly enough Jethro volunteered to make it a trio and departed with them for reasons of his own.
Emilio in the meantime gazed upon Holo in her wolf form completely taken by her beastly majesty. Ranger took offense to his peering and forced the boy to sit with his eyes directed elsewhere with Kaytaff enacting as his sentinel. Holo observed it, gave a passive sigh out her nose, silently shook her head and resumed grooming.
Amongst the multiple tents and shacks that Trapper's Loop contrived of was a fenced area where a pious amount of wagons were stored and a few equines to pull them could favorably bargain with the pocket book of any investor. Jethro leaned against the fence with a foot lifted upon the lowest picket seeming dissatisfied with the options at hand.
As Agatha and Nikiski reared up behind him they beheld what caused his dissatisfaction.
"Handcarts and buggies?' stammered Agatha, 'there be none here large enough to carry us all."
"Except that one." said Jethro pointing to a large wagon complete with a bonnet.
"Mercy me,' resumed Agatha, 'that thing be so grand we'd need a team to haul it."
Turning to Nikski Jethro said, "I spoke to the owner and he said he wants to be rid of it and is willing to settle at a reasonable price. Maybe cheap enough for us to get a team along with it."
Just as he spoke they witnessed the afore mentioned owner approaching them while greeting, "Are these the ones in charge?"
"Indeed they are." said Jethro.
Attuning his attention upon them he informed, "Your friend here says you're looking for a large wagon. I've been holding this one for five years and am willing to part with it for half price."
"There always be a hook to every lure." replied Agatha with suspicion.
Understanding her distrust the owner informed with all sincerity, "I acquired it many years ago in hopes to make a profit off it. But all it has done is cost me space upon this lot, I simply wish to be rid of it."
Jethro commented, "I don't see anymore options from where we are."
Nikiski let out a gruff sigh from his nose as he nodded then gave his answer with a defeated look over to Agatha who said, "We'll take it."
To the happiness of the lot owner to be rid of the wagon and to the relief to Agatha that the price requested was generously within their budget, the wagon was pushed out and into the main service camp where supplies could be purchased and loaded.
When the last crate was set into the bed Agatha turned to Jethro and said with a suspicious tone that took him off guard, "Mr. McKinley how bout ye settle for a pint while me and the boss settle another account?"
A brief pause had been instilled before his response, "As you wish Ms. McDubbland."
His departure was convincing enough to allow Agatha and Nikiski to recede from the throngs towards the outskirts. However Jethro carefully kept his one eye upon their forms and curtailed them subduing his presence amongst the hordes of passerby's.
At last he spied them walking into the pillars of the forest to where no eyes could account their business. Jethro followed them in at a league of reasonable conspicuousness then, once their target destination seemed to be reached, hid himself behind a large tree and spied from there.
What he beheld was a spectered figure hooded and cloaked in black approaching them. Some uneasy business seemed to be exchanged that concluded with a small sack of coins being extended towards the mysterious individual. From its draping sleeve extended the hand of the figure that was of yellowish green skin protruding sharp nails from each fingertip taking the pouch with delight.
To his subtle alarm Jethro felt as though the hems of the stranger's cloak slightly swayed towards his direction as if the slithery figure discovered him. Alas this cryptic meeting was concluding by which Jethro discretely removed himself so he may be found at the gin mill where he was to be expected.
By the time Agatha and Nikiski had called for him he was seen sitting at a table with a mug in hand. As they made way to depart Jethro was convinced they were ignorant of what he witnessed.
In time the wagon was pushed to where the wisewolf was roosting and soon a method for her to extract was developed by means of a rope tied to the tongue that she could clamp and pull behind her.
As the group was preparing to make way Holo took a rather sour disposition towards the handling of Emilio at the hand of Ranger who, once he finished having him harshly placed in the wagon, took him aside for a private audience.
"I feel you are being too overbearing." said she.
His response was swift, "I feel you are too forgiving."
"Tis' not about forgiveness,' she defended, 'this boy has a wealth of knowledge that can be used to fight Jurgen. It would be prudent to not give him reason to resent us."
Ranger seemed awestruck at her sentiment, "This boy is a child of your enemy. You suppose you can turn his mind against those who conditioned his allegiances?"
A gust of wind sprang from her nostrils, "The ones he had allegiance to are the same ones who imprisoned him and left him for dead. His mind can be more easily swayed if we encourage it."
Ranger sighed and rubbed the back of his head with his right hand then suddenly stopped and put it behind him, "Is that what you see in him?"
"What I see,' resumed Holo, 'is what I saw in D'nesh those few fatal encounters we had with him."
"And that is?"
"That even he who had been raised under cruelty and hatred was never truly evil at heart."
His only response was to walk back to the wagon in silence with Holo watching him hoping he had reflected upon their small discourse.
As soon as everyone was seated Holo picked up the rope and asked of Agatha, "What is our destination?"
"We push southeast further along the Roam river and through the forest of Saint Rostov. Once out of the woods we follow the river's left branch through a canyon that leads into the lands called Badorenz."
"Is that where Raven is?"
"Absolutely."
Jethro suddenly spoke with an alarming amount of silent scrutiny, "And how is it you know this?"
Taken back by the tone he used to beseech that information Agatha replied with appropriate uneasiness, "The lands we be off to are riddled with bandits, thieves and all other filthy hoodlums in between. It be a lawless land of scoundrels and scalawags where the only authority men answer to are mercenaries and vigilantes."
"How does this prove he's there?"
"There be one man who makes his living off bringing justice to countless criminals in those parts. A bounty hunter going by the name Durango."
"You're sure this Durango is Raven?"
"…Yes…" came the raspy voice of Nikiski who clearly did not want the methods he employed to retrieve this information revealed.
"How so?" Jethro challenged which only served to make the atmosphere more uncomfortable.
After looking around a bit Agatha suggested, "If there be something on your mind Mr. McKinley now would be an ideal time to share it."
Jethro shrugged as if to dispel his scrutinizing investigation, "I simply wish to know how you came by to know this."
She answered, "Nikiski never completely lost his whereabouts and the stories of this Durango fall fairly in line with Raven's character."
Jethro nodded solemnly by which Holo who had become irritated with this delay interjecting her desires, "If you are done fraternizing with one another I would like put an end to this dallying and leave!"
A little frightened by the beast's rage Agatha encouraged her to move on, "Very well lassy, just remember don't run this thing into the ground."
Holo moved forward causing the wagon to lurch into motion. Emilio shook along and looked at Ranger who sat in front of him with his sheathed sword pressed upright against his shoulder who gave him a threatening glare causing the boy to put his eyes elsewhere.
As the wagon wheels rocked along the terrain Jethro asked loud enough over the road noise, "How far do we plan on traveling today?"
Holo hardened her eyes and kept her gaze dedicated, "We are not stopping until we get there."
…
The wagon which Holo pulled was not the only one in motion that morning for there was one smaller that had been established near a small stream where a man upon bended knee lapped a few dregs from its current. He was none other the Philip Bourgeois, failed sergeant of the Nyohirra city guard, former subordinate of the capricious Lt. Dorian, person of interest to investigator Stephan Ziccardi and most of all a wanted man by the corporals who sought him.
His movements were tainted with soreness on account of the healing gash stitched together across his gut while his pristine mustache had become muddled with stubble.
Further up stream was the white bearded Radovan Tenbrook who took to filling a cask before brushing the horse down. The old man took a moment to spy Bourgeois arising off his knee with a slight stagger leading him to compress his stomach as he walked towards the coach.
"How's the injury?" asked Radovan.
"Treating me better than the morning is." he groaned while working his joints.
The old man saluted his head, "Once you get my age, every hour of the day is morning."
Radovan extended to Philip a piece of jerky which he took, tore in two and shared the larger portion with.
"How far are we outside of Valenfurt?" he asked.
"Should be there before noon, weather permitting." replied the cockney.
Philip bobbed his head while taking in his surroundings like a deer watching for monsters in the shadows. Radovan took an interest to his paranoid observing of the world and asked, "How far behind do you suppose they are?"
"Sir?" asked Bourgeois with the same alarm a soldier has when suddenly called to arms.
"The people who are looking for you, how far behind do you think they are?"
With a dubious attempt to sway that suspicion he replied without looking in his direction, "What makes you think I am being pursued?"
Radovan was quick to name his reasons, "You're secretive, you refuse to rest, you always wish to be on the move, you become anxious when we stop and you're constantly looking over your shoulder.' he then gave an entrapping smile, 'your behavior is strikingly similar to the habits of the animals I have hunted down."
Philip sighed, "It more suffices me to say that I am most likely being sought after in the present moment."
Old man Trodder continued to brush the horse down, "So am I helping a good man make a daring escape, or am I assisting a fugitive extend his days outside the reach of justice?"
Philip bit his lower lip, "That's difficult to say, it depends on your individual perspective of justice."
Radovan then set his arms on the horse's back looking much more authoritative, "The little girl back in my settlement, my granddaughter, I am all the family she has left, and I do not have enough days to see her into adulthood. I need to know right now what risks may come to either me or her."
Bourgeois pondered a moment then spoke carefully chosen words, "If I am discovered by those who have been the object of my anxiety they will move to apprehend me and take me back to from which I hail. I will not see the gallows nor would I be confined for years on end but if the purpose of my journey goes unfulfilled worse things will come of it. For you see, a terrible conspiracy has been uncovered and if I can do my part in thwarting it, then the chances of your granddaughter seeing adulthood will be that much the better."
Radovan remained as still as a statue.
"Well let's get you to Valenfurt."
The horse was hitched and the wagon was in motion not too long after that.
Early that afternoon the wheels of Radovan's old wagon came rolling along the muddy roads of Valenfurt. Once the bridle halted the horse's stride Bourgeois dismounted then panned his eyes around the filthy town. Radovan took advantage of his idleness by seizing the moment to ask, "What are going to do now?"
Without ever breaking his hardened gaze from the abyss of his own thoughts he replied, "See what I can discover."
He then proceeded to walk off with the old man calling out once more, "What are you looking for?"
Turning his head slightly back Philip said, "I'll know when I find it."
The instinct which brought the failed sergeant to what he sought was one that was molded over his long career as a sentinel. It did not begin with the dawning of his uniform, it began, as with us all, with his nature. He had a want to see the righteous values of a polite society defended, he had a desire to see both law and order upheld, he had a disdain for corruption, he had a calculative mind and a knack for mysteries, and above all he had conviction. These attributes is what pulled him towards his profession and by doing so he became well acquainted with the habitats and dwellings of the elusive snakes and cunning foxes of the criminal underbelly, which is what conducted him to enter the tavern named The Gold Nugget.
As he passed through the doors all seemed to go quiet with a sleuth of eyes upon him. He needed no more than the way he composed himself to declare where on the law he stood. He had the air of a soldier which could be smelled by the lawless, unfortunately that same law pursued him and now he was a soldier without a frontier.
He casually walked to the bar and relaxed his arms upon it allowing some patrons to envelop some ease and resume their gaiety. Upon checking his right and left shoulders he found the barkeep approaching him.
"What'll it be?"
Scratching at the stubble under his chin Bourgeois submitted his order with a conspicuous tone, "You wouldn't happen to have Kumersun wine would you?"
The tapper lifted his eyebrows at the request then dug through the liqueur cabinet to bestow a dusty bottle containing the spirit which he sought. After pouring some into a shot glass and sliding it his way the barkeep said with an ease of tension, "Not often I get a man with a good taste in liqueur."
Lifting the shot to his lips Philip said with a playful hostility, "You should get out of town more, we're everywhere." then downed it without remorse.
The tapper smirked some and replenished the paltry dregs, "Don't think I've seen you around here before, where do you hail?"
"I'm from wherever business was good."
Upon his second endeavor to drain his cup the barkeep asked as he topped it off, "So what business is good enough to blow you through my doors?"
Lifting his eyebrows some to display innocence he replied, "We'll see how good it really is, I'm looking for someone, if you've seen them."
The tapper leaned in closer to avoid earshot, "That depends, I've seen a lot of people."
Bourgeois too leaned in knowing he had him in a snag, "A man with a sword, hooded and masked accompanying a young woman with red eyes and light brown hair."
At that very moment the former sergeant felt his backside checked breaking his interrogation. Looking back he found no one who could have been the perpetrator then resumed.
The barkeep nodded and said, "Yes, I do recall someone like that in here almost a week earlier."
"What was their business?"
The barkeep leaned back taking the defensive, "Who's asking?"
Bourgeois deciphered the reason for his forestalling to be that of the impression this masked man must have made which caused him to ask in response, "Sounds like he's caused some trouble when he was here."
"You could say that,' replied the tapper, 'more in Cross Iron than down here. What's it to you?" then coldly poured another round.
Bourgeois swirled his beverage around then said in a tone equal in indifference, "I'm someone who likes to put an end to trouble." then drank his last round, set the glass down and pushed it away.
"So how about it?" said he.
Taking the shot glass so it could be cleaned with a cloth the barkeep said very discretely, "At first they seemed to be a female merchant escorted by a mercenary for protection, but word of mouth said they seemed to be up to something."
Becoming more pressed for a solid lead Bourgeois asked, "Where you the last one to see them?"
"No, our local butcher had some dealings with them and threw a fuss over the way he was treated."
"Where's the butcher?"
"Two blocks over to the west of here."
Bourgeois slapped his money on the table and departed with the barkeep putting the bottle away with eager haste to show as if this exchange never happened.
Once Philip was outside the tavern he made way for the butcher's shop. Once there he called upon the man of interest and inquired of him about the masked man and the fair woman of ocre hair who sourly recalled his dealings with them. After some more discourse Bourgeois discovered from his young apprentice that the strangers who he sought made plans to make a delivery for a warehouse headed by a man named Jacapo. His journey took him there.
As he approached the warehouse to inquire of this Jacapo his hands fell into his pockets to where a mysterious note was discovered. As to how it got there he assumed it was deposited by whomever jostled him at the bar but as to the whereabouts of the one planted it were unknown.
Yet more curiosity was devoted to the letter's nature which was satisfied by him opening and reading it.
"Many vipers live under the rocks you overturn.
There is a lodge on the outskirts northwest, the trail closest to where you entered will lead you there, and there I will be waiting."
Philip understood the warning, discretely hid the letter away and returned to the wagon with the realization that his identity was accounted for weighing upon his senses. He came upon Radovan who tended to the horse to keep himself occupied then became silently alarmed by the change in his partner's demeanor which became even more so when Bourgeois asked of him, "Have you a knife somewhere?"
The old man held himself as if he wished to turn away without saying a word, however as a true man loyal to his word he bestowed upon him his hunting knife. Philip took and concealed it with enough secrecy to avoid outside suspicion then instructed, "If I do not return in thirty minutes go home to your granddaughter and speak nothing of this to anyone." His boots then turned and made dints in the mud up the trail.
In ten minutes time Bourgeois found himself standing before a small cabin in the woods. Though never having seen it before the sense of death could be felt emanating from within. Carefully he approached the threshold of the door, opened it slowly with a creak and entered the dreary abode.
The light that shown through the window and clearance between the slats gave a sickly gradation to the abandoned hut. He, with purposeful timidness, stepped over the overturned furniture and other household objects in disarray with his nose plugged from the stench of former decay. The greatest article that piqued his interest was a message inscribed in blood upon the wall that read, 'Can the warrior still conceal the fight? Can the wolf withhold the bark yet yield the bite?'
His thoughts were so engrained upon it that he failed to comprehend the voice that spoke behind him from the doorframe, "Careful where you step."
He wheeled around knife drawn and at the ready. Standing before him across the threshold of the antechamber was the same hooded figure in black we have seen earlier in this narrative.
The figure took account of the knife pointed towards him with both a disdain and a superiority complex towards the one who wielded it.
"You have an odd hospitality towards the creature who kept you from harms way, sergeant." said he.
"How do you know me?" asked Bourgeois.
The sickly hands poked out their sleeves and removed the hood revealing the shorn head and snake eyes of the eerie serpent god Terusilan. Philip lowered his blade before his hardened scowl.
Terusilan bowed his head with a devilish smirk, "It's been too long…Bogey."
"Not long enough." replied Philip with a disdain to exceed that which was shown to him by his visitor.
"Oh come now sergeant, we want the same thing."
"And that is?"
"Why to see the prevalence of justice of course!" said the serpent with that deceitful air which came before each word he spoke.
"Strange, last time we collaborated, justice did not seem on your agenda."
"Your interests and my interests intertwined during that whole ordeal, can you simply not be content with that?"
Bourgeois became rigid upon the notion that such conditions were repeating themselves anew, "What interest have we to share this time?"
Terusilan flicked forth his tongue, the rapid trademark of a serpent tracking it's prey, "You know as well as I, the business we engaged in those many years ago has recently been discovered to be unresolved."
"…Jurgen…"
The serpent occasioned an attraction to his solemnity which inclined him to smile, "Oh yes, the hunter of gods and enemy to human decency was not eradicated as you would have hoped." he then took note of Philip's dejected nature and could not resist but relish in human suffering, "Tis a shame really, all the work you exerted in bringing him to justice, the alliances forged and broken and now here you are, a renegade from the very system you swore to uphold."
Philip ended his degrading charade there, "You need not repeat my personal history snake."
"So crass…' sighed Terusilan with an offense that fell under pretense, 'Well I know who it is you seek and am willing to impart my knowledge of their escapades with you willingly."
"Without price?" interjected Bourgeois with his unfailing demeanor.
"Come now,' reasoned the serpent god, 'I have learned the precious gift of charity over the years from you humans."
"When it suits you I'm sure." Philip ridiculed.
Finding the joy of this little word game sapping from his mind Terusilan alas wished to move things along, "Do you wish to know what has happened among the ones you seek, or do you wish to discover their bearings on your own while wasting precious time?"
Philip crossed his arms over his broad chest, "Very well, I shall hear you."
In a single go Terusilan shared the brief history of Holo and Ranger uninterrupted.
"Shortly after your near death experience the inn keepers and Laternieux's band of do-gooders were besieged by a small army. Oh they fought bravely they did, but the ordeal ended with the death of two rangers the kidnapping of Lawrence and another named Matthias with the poor little wolf moping her way along with the masked brute at her side to forge a daring rescue mission.
They passed through here and roused the suspicion of the eyes and ears Jurgen had stationed around then made their way to Cross Iron to where a member of De Buhr's inner circle was well established, a handsome fiend by the name Evgeny Ovetchkin head of the Nabakov trading guild. He tried to have them killed but they ended up triumphing in the end, taking near half the town with them in the process, you know the wrath of gods is nothing short of overt.
From Evgeny they learned that Jurgen had Lawrence and Matthias detained in his mansion in the depths of Yoites leading our heroic duo ever onward!
They were not without opposition of course, as it turns out they found themselves in the middle of a peculiar conflict. You see the surviving inuit tribes and what wolves remained on that frozen scrap of land had been locked in a centuries old conflict that ignited into a savage war when the duo made their appearance. It may have been something over Holo being a descendant of a traitor and or the masked man having killed the inuit ancestors in the past, the exact details did not interest me so I overlooked them.
But you'll be happy to know they survived and made new friends along the way. Tis' a shame though, that Jurgen had forsook his mansion taking Lawrence and Matthias with them leaving the tired duo to venture on in vain."
Had Bourgeois not been made previously aware of Terusilan's ability to make even the betrayal Caesar a trivial matter constructed of absurd details he would have assumed the story a farce, however he possessed a sense that this history was not relayed in its true Justice.
"So that is were they have been,' said he, 'but to where are they going?"
The forked tongue flicked with heinous delight from the serpent's lip, "Now that has a price."
"You know I have not even a lute copper to my name."
Terusilan stroked his chin and looked up as if deep in thought, "What a dilemma. Ah, I do remember that there are other things worth their weight in gold."
A pang of fear struck Philip through the chest that traveled down his spine and escaped out his toes. Had he been employed to collect for Terusilan all the gold in the world it would not feel him with the same degree of dread as to what he suspected to be tasked with, a favor.
In a tone respective of that fear Philip asked, "What do you want?"
Terusilan began to walk forward, each step, a step of doom.
"The duo are headed west to Badorenz with a rag tag team of mercenaries."
"And…?" pled Bourgeois who backed away until obstructed by the wall as the snake god continued to cross the threshold of the room.
"They are attempting to reunite two men who knew Jurgen very well and can help make him end."
"Why would this reunion concern me as you imply it would?" asked Philip ready to smite as he drew closer.
"Because they are the two surviving warbirds."
Philip fell into a stupor.
"Oh yes now you are beginning to see. You remember yes? When you and Laternieux had a sure plan and sent those men into a den of unfathomable sorrow and torture? When it was all said and done you walked away from it and got your promotion in Nyohirra; or am I mistaken?"
Philip clenched his jaw so tightly he nearly broke his own teeth, "Choices were made, actions were taken that day. Now what do you want from me?"
Terusilan let out a hiss from the foulest depths of his animosity towards mankind, "Your inability to have that man properly ripped from this world has caused a ripple among certain walks of life I find most appealing. My terms and conditions are simple, finish the job you let stagnate over the years and make the world a slightly less bleaker place for those dismal enough to crawl upon it."
The grizzled mustache above the sergeant's lip flexed into a slight smirk, "Yes I am now beginning to see. You make a living as an information broker while going about your business in the comfort of knowing you will live to see the next day. However the presence of Jurgen threatens that."
Terusilan squinted, falling silent and unamused.
"Jurgen is an old time enemy of Laternieux, your best paying customer. Not only this, his campaign has been and always be the extermination of the animal spirits such as yourself. You know eventually he'll uncover the rock you've been hiding under and smite you without mercy. You want him dead not for the sake of the earth but for yours."
A fear inducing hiss broke the air followed by the piercing sight of the serpent's fangs extending out from his lips dripping with venom. Bourgeois remained composed but was betrayed by a bead of perspiration forming at his temple that slowly descended down his face.
"You forget the extent of my knowledge sergeant!' hissed Terusilan seething with displeasure, for the only honesty he despised was the one that unveiled his more self undesirable traits, 'There are many who have forgotten about you but I have not, I have not forgotten about the ones dearest to you, the ones you left behind to ensure their safety!"
An entirely new emotion swept over the face of Philip Bourgeois, one that was in complete contrast to the confidence displayed earlier.
This quickened shift in demeanor gleefully put Terusilan into the emotional upper hand he always coveted, "Yes I know about her, the one creature fair enough to be worthy of your affection, the one individual you loved enough to distance yourself from to see her out of harms way. Well mark my words, if you fail in bringing De Buhr down to his grave she will be the first one I visit in my wrath!"
Philip trembled at the sleuth of threats and exposures he found assaulting his being with unrelenting uncertainty, "If you dare so much as cast a gaze in her direction then I'll-"
Terusilan raised a finger to collect the dab of sweat from off his cheek and onto his elongated nail, "You'll do what exactly?"
The disgraced sergeant could only stare into the face of the monster who cornered him and exhibited submission to him with his silence.
Flicking the bead of diaphoresis from off his finger the snake man said with a foul tempered simper of the mouth, "That is right."
He was about to make another advance forward if not for a discomforting sensation poking in his chest. The snake looked down and beheld the knife he had been ignorantly aloof pressed into his body ready to deliver a fatal blow. Terusilan turned and proceeded to extract himself from the hut, while doing so he redrew his hood, stopped and said when at the door, "Head west to Badurenz, I will guide you as need be. Make haste for your corporals are not too far behind you. The clock is ticking Bogey and I am not a patient man."
His figure alas withdrew from view leaving the petrified sergeant alone and with much to contemplate. Once he decided it was safe enough to remove himself from the scene he made his way back down the trail and found himself intercepted by Radovan who, when the thirty minutes was nearing its elapse, was coming for him instead of abandoning him as instructed.