"See I told you."

Squinting against the midday sun, Jonathan Abernathy could indeed see a lone figure milling about in the ruins of the old Sutton cottage. He really didn't have time for this shit. The property was too far to the south of town to be of much concern let alone the fact that the Darkmoss forest had encroached far enough to make the place dangerous. A lone squatter, whether an escaped Tel'ani slave or not wasn't high on his priorities, but that's where Fredricks had been wrong. The squatter down the path wasn't Tel'ani. Sure they had a tail, though a bit shorter, and they had the horns. Really it was the horns that were dead give away. Tel'ani had straight horns. This person had larger ram-like ones that framed their head. With a weary sigh, sheriff Abernathy made his way down the path to confront the damnable Tiefling.

Stubble making its way toward actual bread gave the person away as male. His skin was gray in complexion and his long dark hair was pulled back into a knot near his thick neck. He picked up a large rock, lean muscles twitching under tight skin, he moved it several yards to the side and threw it. It landed with a heavy thud. Abernathy took the action for what it was, a warning that the man he was approaching wasn't weak.

The sheriff stopped a few yards away as the Tiefling wiped his dirty hands on an equally dirty and sleeveless dark green tunic. The damn demonkin's yellow eyes scanned the woodline before searching Fredricks, then Abernathy.

"You got a good reason for being out here?" Abernathy watched as the Tiefling rubbed his hands together and considered him. The demonkin's lips pressed into a thin line, which made the scar on his lower lip more prominent. Splitting his vistage like some sort of monster that wandered in from the Darkmoss itself.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"Ya. What's it to you?"

"I'm the sheriff here in town. It's my job to deal with you people."

"I see. Well you're all real welcoming. Unless you got a good reason for being here beyond dealing with, my people… Get off my property."

That statement hit Abernathy in the part of the brain that wondered if he was actually awake. To be fair, he had been running on only a few hours of sleep. There was a man, a Tiefling, squatting in the old Sutton cottage. It was Fredricks that claimed he was squatting, could be his error.

"Your property? Got any way of proving that?"

The Tiefling considered the question for a moment before rolling backward and moving to a wagon. Not a lot of squatters had a big ass wagon and it spoke to just how tired Abernathy was that he hadn't noticed it. He had noticed the way the Tiefling moved though. The hairs on his arms were standing on end. The demon didn't simply turn and walk, he rolled. Moving in such a way as to be perpetually aware of his surroundings and ready to spring into action at the slightest provocation. Abernathy didn't have the time, or mental bandwidth to deal with this shit. The man returned with a leather envelope. Abernathy took it, painfully aware of how close the devilblood was. A tension drive trap ready to spring.

"Alek Harbinger?"

The Tiefling grunted.

"Odd name." Abernathy scanned over the deed, which appeared for all the world to be a legitimate legal document. He handed it back. "Well then. I've got more important things to worry about. Good day Mr… Harbinger."

The Tiefling didn't say a thing as he left with Fredricks close behind. Abernathy didn't know what the damn devilbloods wanted with an overgrown farm off the beaten path and he really hoped it didn't matter. He stopped in at the bank on his way back to the office.

"Hey!" He shouted over the people's heads. "Anyone sell the old Sutton place to a demonkin named Harbinger?"

One of the men in the back poked his head up from his desk like a gopher from its hole. "Yeah."

"And he paid for it?"

"Yes sir."

Abernathy shrugged to himself. "Thanks, carry on."