Wynn awoke early after a night of tossing and turning. He was a bit disturbed that someone had invaded his tent. The idea that perhaps someone had seen him destroy the trap the sprite was in and desired to exact some form of revenge upon him had visited him right about when he was going to fall asleep.

He didn't have time to dwell on that though. He was tired and had to get moving or he might not ever get moving for the day. Pushing back the tent's rough canvas that served as a door, Wynn greeted the crisp morning air. There was a slight breeze and the breath of fresh air invigorated his sleepy mind. The scent of potatoes and bacon wafted to his nose and he took off towards the cook fire.

Approaching the center of camp he could see that the main crew of woodcutters had not left for the day yet. He was up a lot earlier than he usually was. The cookfire had a large cast iron skillet hanging to the side of it. Bacon sizzled. Potatoes fried. Wynn was glad that he had not missed this. This was simple fair but nothing tasted better than potatoes and bacon fried over fire. Something about the smokiness of the bacon made the potatoes way better.

Wynn grabbed a bowl and looked around for an empty seat. He almost dropped it in surprise when he saw Arne waving him over to a seat. He quickly approached the table with his food and instantly forgot it as he made eye contact with Arne.

Speaking first and propelled by a good amount of internal worry Wynn asked, "Where were you? Why did you leave me?". These words flew out of his mouth a bit faster than he had intended and the effect seemed to make Arne lean back a bit as if poked.

"I am sorry Wynn. I should not have left you at a time like that," Arne quietly replied. He leaned in a bit closer and asked, "Have you told anyone else about your connection with Gulf?"

"No why would I? Most here probably would not believe me even if I did tell them. A good number of them likely would not care either," Wynn hastily replied. This was something that had bugged him a bit with Arne's hasty retreat. He didn't have anybody else to go over the experience and confirm that it wasn't a dehydration induced daydream.

"Good. Let's leave. Now," said Arne. Arne abruptly stood and motioned for Wynn to do the same.

"What now!?" Wynn said while eyeing his steaming bowl of bacon. He hadn't even got a bite in yet.

"Yes. I will explain on the road. We have downriver duty, let's go," said Arne. He looked around himself as he said this as if seeing if anyone else had picked up on this conversation.

Reluctantly Wynn arose from his seat at the table. This was the second day in a row that bacon had eluded him. That had to be a bad omen. This was unusual behavior even for Arne and it seemed to be a bit early for them to head out on their assigned duty.

---

As they headed down the road, the sun was approaching its full brightness. It was still the cooler part of morning but the chill would burn off soon. Summer was soon going to be on its way out for the year. The road to Oramond along the river was a gentle journey. The river never really picked up its pace at any point downstream to Oramond. Just outside town, there was a lumber mill that would capture the logs for further processing.

They traveled at a decent pace. This task was similar to clearing log jams where they went into the river. This just included a bit of legwork and a journey all the way to town. Wynn felt a bit of excitement when he thought about the prospect of touching the Source again. Arne walked alongside Wynn but hadn't spoken much. This was not too uncharacteristic for Arne but Wynn still wondered if something was weighing on his mind. He was a bit worried that Arne might have seen the other vision when he made the connection to Gulf.

Wynn had never heard of anyone experiencing something like he did. Of course, there were stories of heroes that had supernatural abilities like being able to portent the future. This did not feel heroic. It did not feel good. The Source was something that everyone had a connection to. Wynn had been around its workings his whole life. He had seen water being shaped to fit different tasks. Just because someone could touch the Source or manipulate it, this did not guarantee entry into an Order. There was a volunteer aspect to it. The ritual around how someone enters an Order is almost a secret.

The silence was starting to kill his patience so Wynn turned to Arne and asked, "Where did you go when I made that strong connection to Gulf?"

Arne sighed and looked as if he did not want to answer. "Wynn--you need to understand I am bound by rules as part of my Order," said Arne. Arne looked down a bit and then grinned as he spoke, "It might not be apparent to you, but there are politics within each of the Orders. Usually, there is not too much contention but when an individual is discovered that could bring more power to one Order, other Orders tend to want to get involved."

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This puzzled Wynn for a moment and then he asked, "What do you mean?"

"When we get to Oramond you will learn more. I am going to introduce you to the Order of Gulf that resides there," said Arne.

Feeling frustrated about having his question turned away, Wynn focused on walking. The silence grew between them. Arne had always been fairly open to questions, though there were times when he did not seem approachable.

They both continued to walk in silence as the day warmed and approached the afternoon. Oramond was a two-hour walk downstream from the logging camp. This was primarily one of the reasons that Wynn had selected this job. There always seemed to work and if he didn't like it, he could always return home. Though he was already just past his twentieth birth year, he still lived with his parents. This was not uncommon. Many young adults took time to practice or make a trade. If you didn't have an aptitude for wielding the Source, there were plenty of other trades.

Though he did not like to bring it up and he very rarely admitted it, his parents were of the Order of Ordene. His parents were Peacekeepers. They definitely were Peacekeepers... He did not have a bad relationship with them in particular, but he had butted heads with their expectations multiple times. His parents seem to think that they have a premonition that he will resonate most with the Promise of Ordene.

Peacekeepers held a central role in society. Oramond was not a large city, more like a town or a village in a lot of ways. Peacekeepers were central enough to attract attention to him as the son of Peacekeepers. This unwanted title had occasionally gotten him into trouble, and out of trouble. It was not always easy making friends when they believed that his parents could read their minds or influence their behavior. Wynn did not believe that his parents could read his minds--though he will admit that they could read people almost well enough to convince him otherwise.

There was a sharp twang! Thud! Wynn looked down. A cheap shot, but the feathers of an arrow stuck out of him. Something flowed through his veins, burning, and numbing at the same time. He felt the arrow, not believing that it was there. Warmth. Wet warmth filled his shirt. He hit the ground hard with his knees. Arne was yelling at him but he could not hear him. He was waving his hands frantically.

Three men approached out of the thick brush that accompanied the path along the river. Their clothes looked like they were made from smoked leather, accustomed to patrolling the roads. Thieves were not unheard of in Fenn, but thieves this close to Oramond were almost legend. The ragged men pushed forward towards Arne and Wynn.

Then Arne did something that he had only heard whispers of. He began to weave the Source directly at the men. Sparkling dragons of water came flying from the river. Their scales and claws glistened like blades. Wynn did not doubt that they would be able to rip through armor and flesh. Arne was not just good, he was a master.

"This is your last chance to leave," Arne shouted.

Then men did not respond. One of them quickly began to nock another arrow to the bowstring. Without a word he pulled the string, stretching the bow to its limit, and released it. A dragon flew in an instant and the arrow hit it, cracking and falling to the ground. Arne seemed to focus a bit harder and the other dragon shot out. The dragon bit down on the shoulder of the archer. The archer immediately screamed out in pain. Crimson bled down the front of his jerkin. The dragon did not release. It had attached itself and did not seem to have any other interests.

Arne looked to the other men. They seemed more confident than simple highwaymen. They had to be something other than thieves. The casual thief would not casually shoot an arrow into a passerby to simply relieve them of their coin purse. One of them began to raise his hands to the sky. Light gathered to the man's fingertips, and then burst into a flame. Arne needed to finish this fast. He was going to have to personally answer for the deaths of these men. It was no small crime to wield the Source against another human. This man seemed to have a fairly strong connection to Scor. While he wouldn't likely be an Order member, it was not impossible.

Arne sent another dragon at the man wielding fire. This dragon went for the man's legs and wrapped around them. Mid-fall, the man released the fire toward Arne. It soared across the air with rancid smoke billowing out of it. It was roughly the shape of a ball. It grazed the side of Arne leaving a sticky trace of fire on his arm. Yelling and fueled by the pain he relinquished control to the dragons. Their beastlike forms and essences snapped the necks of the two men without remorse.

Arne finding himself spun around from his encounter with the fireball, desperately oriented himself towards Wynn. The last thief had Wynn by the collar of his shirt and was wielding a dagger towards him. This thief had no intent to rob, he was focused on assassination.

Wynn found himself staring into the eyes of a man wielding a dagger. He had not imagined himself to ever be at the end of one. His shirt was now wet with his blood. His thoughts felt distant. Suddenly he felt it. A dark brooding feeling enveloped his mind. His skin suddenly felt as if a shadow had passed over him as if the sun was blocked out. The blood on his shirt coalesced into a dagger-like object. It reached out from him and darted straight to the dagger-wielding thief. Wynn closed his eyes and passed out.

The man began to scream. He dropped Wynn immediately. The shadow-like substance began to spread over the source lines that were on the man's arms. They began to glow and began to burn with a brilliant light.

Arne watched as the man was consumed. There was no other word for it. Whatever had come off of Wynn was wrapping around the Source that was contained in this man, and consuming it. Arne watched, breathlessly as the thief dropped and dissolved into ash.