He strode proudly into Avenholme, his chest sparkling with medals and a magnificent ornate sword at his hip. Rune rode on his shoulder, her collar decorated with its own awards. All of the City stopped to watch them. He was tall and proud, his wings were more beautiful than any in the Hightalon clan, he was strong and muscular enough to rival any Skyguard. Roy could see Velius in the gathering crowd, beckoning him over, but Roy just smiled and waved. He had a duty to perform first. Aven came from all over the city to watch their procession, following him at a short distance, staring in reverence.

He was a hero -- greater than Matharell, the Hero-God of Adventurers. His feats were known far and wide, and his reputation preceded him. At the end of the road, he found himself standing before his father. Elias towered over him, but looked down with pride in his eyes. Jacob cowered and cringed beside him, ugly and stupid.

“Congratulations, son. You are the most beloved Hero of all of Taralensia. I was wrong to ever doubt you. The Library is no place for a hero as great as you. Your place is at the head of a House. No! Even greater! You will be the new King of Avenholme! The ruler of all Aven in Taralensia!”

“Well that is why you named me Roy. You know it means ‘King’ in the Human tongue.” The entire city exploded into appreciative laughter.

The spectacular crown seemed to appear out of nowhere, coming to rest gently on his head. It sparkled so brightly that the entire City went down on one knee before him. They all were silent in reverence, in the presence of a new Hero-God. His name would go down in the annals of history. All would worship him. Even Jacob.

Especially Jacob.

“Fitting,” he said charmingly. He glanced to Rune. She too had a crown that sat between her ears. “For my first act as King of Avenholme, I banish you, Jacob, from the City and the skies! You will never fly again and you will never sully my sight with your presence!”

The Eagle grovelled and begged, small and quivering and weak and stupid. So stupid. And ugly.

Roy pointed at Jacob, and with a dramatic sweep of his hand, the Eagle was cast over the side of the path, falling down to the ocean beneath. But something didn’t seem quite right. The ground wobbled beneath him and the world seemed to shift, spilling him over the edge after Jacob. The two tumbled, Roy crashed into his cousin and their bodies tangled as they fell. The wind rushed past his ears and Roy realized that Jacob had no wings. There was a surge of horror as he tried to push off of the crippled Aven, trying to put some distance between them, but Jacob clutched at him instead.

Hard hands gripped him, pulled at him as he tried to spread his wings. To fly. To escape. But there was no escape. Jacob clutched his blue wings and pulled them free. Suddenly Jacob was flying -- soaring -- on wings like a dragon, and Roy was still falling, careening towards the sea.

No not sea. Stone. Below him where there should be water, there was blue glass that moved and swayed, beautiful and impenetrable. He stared at it, transfixed as he struggled to fly, but with no wings he simply fell faster. The glass rolled and swelled beneath him, and then stabbed into the air, a sea of violently glistening spikes. He opened his mouth to scream but no sound came. He struggled to bring his arms to protect himself but found himself helpless as gravity dragged him down into the inevitable. As the spears closed in, he shut his eyes tight and --

Roy hit the ground with a thud, staring up at a dark ceiling of branches and leaves. The wind rustled them gently, but otherwise the forest offered no answers to clear his confusion. He groaned softly in pain, but made no move to rise. Everything hurt. Every muscle ached, his head throbbed. There was an odd clopping sound, and he turned his head in time to greet a soft grey muzzle. The horse’s lips played at his cheek, then the broad head dipped, the hard snout pushing on his shoulder, rolling him to his side.

With a groan of protest, he obliged, carefully getting to his feet with help of the strange animal. Rune stood between its shoulders, watching him worriedly. Roy looked around for a moment, trying to remember what had happened. They were in the woods. Of course, now he remembered. He was no hero. He was barely a failed villain, and now he was stuck in a strange area with no idea where to go.

The memory of the chase, of the Raven who had grappled with his pack. Roy winced, reaching up to rub his forehead. He was stuck in a strange area with no supplies. Something heavy bumped him in the arm, rocking him out of his self-pity. He turned to look at the horse again. Keen brown eyes studied him, dark grey ears swivelled forward. “I guess I’ve got you two then, aye?” He asked. Rune meowed from atop the animal, waving a paw at him.

“Well, let’s see how screwed we are. No pack. No supplies. And you aren’t wearing saddlebags,” he said to the horse, carefully moving around it. The animal watched him as he circled. A bedroll was tied behind the saddle, as well as a few lengths of rope in different sizes. There was a blanket under the saddle itself, as well as the leather gear along the animal’s head.

“Very. We are very screwed.” He said with a sigh. “Well… It’s too late to turn back now,” he said, looking over his shoulder. Though there was a trail, it certainly didn’t qualify as a road. It seemed to have been broken by the daily path of wild animals. What was that called? A game trail? He didn’t know.

Roy spread his wings, intending to fly above the tops of the trees and get a better idea of the land around them, but his left wing sent a pang of pain down his back and across his shoulder. Maybe it was better to take it a bit easy. So, now what? He moved back around to the head of the horse, reaching up to stroke the dark mane. It was a pretty animal, a deep grey that was almost blue, darker at the legs and head, with a black mane and tail. Along the halter a name was embroidered. Roy smiled slightly. “Sapphire, eh?”

The horse nickered softly, bobbing it’s big head. The long tail whipped across its flanks, dark eyes watching him. He patted the horse’s neck and nodded. “Well, Sapphire, you are officially the most experienced in this little expedition. You have my sympathy.” He didn’t bother getting back into the saddle, instead simply moving forward along the game trail. “Let’s find somewhere to stop for the night.”

Walking in a forest was strange to him. The ground wasn’t level, roots stuck up everywhere and stones slid under foot at inopportune times. Every stick he stepped on snapped with the sound of cannon fire. More than once Sapphire turned her ears back to display her displeasure at his awkward fumbling.

“Yeah, well, you try walking on polished marble with your weird feet and then you can judge me,” he retorted. She blew at him, continuing to follow the path. It didn’t take long for them to come upon a clearing. As if to signal its acceptability as a campsite, Sapphire lazily plodded off the track and turned in a slow circle around it. Roy paused, looking around, then nodded in approval.

He moved to take the bedroll off of the horse, then paused to study the saddle. “...Is this supposed to come off?” Sapphire’s head swung around to look at him. He stared at her long face then gave a sigh of frustration.

“You’re no help.” Tossing the bedroll towards an area that looked clear enough to sleep, he started fumbling with the buckles and straps before pulling the saddle off. The blanket slid off with the leather piece and he just looked at it in confusion.

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“Do you need that? Imodai, I wish you could talk. Whatever, it’s warm tonight, just give me a signal if you need that to not die or something.” Sapphire simply looked at him, ears pricked forward in curiosity. He stacked the blanket and saddle together near the bedroll, then looked back at her one last time. The horse looked back calmly.

“You’re worse than an Owlclan,” he grumbled, coming back over to check her again. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for. Horses didn’t have a secret compartment that held supplies, nor did she have an owner’s guide tattooed to her flank. Roy came around to her head, gently taking the leather straps in his hands. He stared at her, willing her to speak.

“I have no idea how to take care of you,” he breathed, resting his forehead heavily against the broad muzzle. Sapphire snorted loudly against his chest. “What do you eat?? How do I feed you? How do I feed myself? This was a terrible idea!” He sighed again, stroking her broad cheek as the horse mouthed at the front of his tunic. If she didn’t seem upset, maybe it wasn’t hopeless just yet. Maybe things would look better in the daylight.

He stepped back, patting her head again before turning back to the bedroll. More straps. Kneeling in the patchy grass, he loosened the straps and unrolled the bundle. To his surprise, a leather bag landed with a thump near his feet. Roy tilted his head, stretching out the bedroll in the grass, before gathering the bag up. Sitting on the soft padded mat, he unhooked the latch of the warbag and upended it, dumping the contents onto the cloth. Some small knick knacks, a folded portrait of a group of people that looked like an adventuring party, some weird loops of thin wire, a second small bag and a whole lot of what seemed like some sort of soft, dried plant matter.

Dumping out the smaller bag as well, he found a bunch of rocks, a weird looking loop of metal, some black cloth and some jute rope covered in wax. He wrinkled his nose up, picking through the various pieces, trying to puzzle together what it was he was looking at. As he played with each piece in turn, Rune came and curled up in his lap. Eventually he huffed, dropping the metal as he reached for one of the waxed rope pieces. As it landed, it struck a stone and there was a bright flash of light. Roy froze, convinced that he had somehow broken an arcane seal or something equally dangerous. He braced for an explosion. Rune simply looked up at him from between his knees.

When no explosion came, he reached down cautiously and picked up the metal and the rock. One of the two had caused a flash. The obvious answer was to look for some sort of simple enchantment. He started with the rock. He turned it over and over in his hands, but saw no engravings, no sigils, no sign of magic. Nothing but a few scratches and chip marks. Closing his hands over it and spreading his wings, he shut his eyes and opened his mind to feel for the pulse of arcane, no matter how faint. After a few minutes, he decided that perhaps it wasn’t the rock and moved instead to repeat the process with the piece of steel. Again nothing.

Roy growled in growing frustration. Holding one in either hand, he studied the metal and the stone closely. Maybe they needed to be joined? There likely wasn’t a trigger word as he hadn’t spoken when the initial light was thrown off. So what was it? He pushed the two together. Nothing. He didn’t see any obvious places where they could be joined. This was getting nowhere. It must be obvious! He was just tired. And the oiled leather pad smelled warm and alluring and slightly like Human. It reminded him of just how tired he was. As Rune purred and kneaded his inner thigh, he watched Sapphire instead.

The horse seemed content to make her own preparations, moving slowly around the camp area, nibbling at the plants here and there. After watching her for a few minutes, he realized she wasn’t just playing with the grass and leaves, she was eating them. Huh. Well, maybe if he watched what she ate, he could find a way to feed himself. As he studied, he started rapping the metal and stone together thoughtfully. The horse suddenly paused as she came upon a bush, ears coming forward, she started picking through the foliage greedily. Roy tried to see what she was doing in the dark but just then the metal piece slipped against the rock, throwing out another bright flash. He gasped and dropped the two, scrambling backwards and dethroning the cat. Sapphire didn’t seem to notice.

Carefully he moved onto all fours and crawled closer to the discarded tools. When he was certain they wouldn’t suddenly flare on their own, he picked them up again. This time, he braced himself and very deliberately brought the metal down against the rock. Nothing. He tried again, this time scraping the metal along the side. Still nothing. Roy lost his patience, and with an angry, wordless yell, he whacked the steel against the rock. It slipped, throwing up a spark. He blinked and tried again. Another spark. Slowly everything started clicking into place.

Fire.

Fire!! He could make fire! It wasn’t hopeless after all! He pulled the tools closer to him and started investigating them each in turn. The loose plant matter must be something to feed the fledgling flame with. The little box that held the black cloth was heavily charred, so on a whim he tore off a piece and held it on the edge of the flint as he struck it. Within a few strikes, the cloth was glowing in a few points. As he blew on it, the glow became brighter. He gave a childish squeal of delight and leapt to his feet, rushing to gather wood.

Judging by how small the spark was, he figured that it would need small material first before the flame was strong enough to catch something bigger. Much like lighting his father’s fireplace in his study. The woods were plentiful with fallen branches, and it didn’t take him long to form a suitable pile. Thicker chunks on the bottom, getting progressively smaller with twigs and dried leaves and grass at the top. Again he struck the flint with the char cloth, again he managed to catch a spark. He pushed the tiny ember into a handful of dried grass and started to blow gently. His heart leapt as the smoke started to roll from his hands like an amateur mage. The first licks of flame started to show and holding his breath in anticipation, he set the bundle on top of his little mound of wood.

Within minutes the small campsite was flickering in a warm orange glow and Roy let out a whoop of glee, forgetting his exhaustion and pain and leaping around the little clearing cheering and yelling like a nomadic Rehk at one of their primitive dances. Sapphire finally turned her head to regard him, lazily chewing on whatever it was that she had found. Grinning like a wild boy, he came over to see what she was eating. The bush she nibbled had thick, vicious thorns, but with her flexible lips and long tongue, she didn’t seem to have a problem getting around them to the berries beyond. Roy grinned. His fingers were easily as flexible as her mouth, and if they were good enough for her, they were good enough for him. Carefully he started to gather the fruit, lifting up the bottom of his shirt to make a sort of basket.

He pulled as many as he could, the thorns pricking his skin here and there, his fingers starting to become sticky with the slowly weeping blood and juice from broken berries. Sapphire spotted the easier meal and began trying to wedge her big nose beneath his arm to get into the stash. He grumbled and pushed her away, moving from the bush to see what else he could find. The raspberry bushes made a thorny border for most of the small clearing, but there was another interesting bush nearby with long bunches of dark fruit. For some reason, Sapphire was completely uninterested in these plants. Roy shrugged. Her loss.

The little meal collected, he settled beside the fire, his chest swelling with pride. He could do this! “Look at us, Rune,” he said, nibbling on sweet berries. “Set out on our own, starting our own story. We’re going to be heroes before you know it.” The cat just leaned up against his thigh quietly, one ear angled towards his voice.

“I started a fire all by myself. I got a saddle off of a horse. I have a horse, Rune! A real adventuring-horse! I found food!” He waved a berry under her nose. The juice stained his fingertips purple. Rune politely ignored him.

“Delicious, wholesome food,” he popped the berry into his mouth and immediately grimaced. “Ok, so the dark ones aren’t as delicious as the other ones… No matter.” He quickly picked out the rest of the dark berries and gobbled them up, quickly chasing them with the sweeter raspberries. Once the little meal was done, he wiped his purple-stained hands off, threw a few more pieces of wood on the fire, and retreated to the bedroll.

The outer layer was treated with something that made it feel weatherproof, and after a bit of poking, he found that it was slit at the top like a bag. The interior was soft sheepskin. The very idea of snuggling down into it after the long day he had had sent a shiver of pleasure up his spine. He put the firebag back together, then stuffed everything back into larger pack. Everything except the portrait. He kept that out for a little bit longer.

Unlacing his boots and the sides of his vest, he set them both aside and crawled into the sleeping bag, drawing the smaller bag under his head like a pillow. Judging by the wear along its back, he was not the first to use it for such a purpose. In the firelight, he unfolded the portrait again, studying the adventurers. They looked so strong there, so confident. So wise. As Rune crawled into the sheepskin with him, he smiled. He would become just like them. Strong. Powerful. Heroes.

The adventure he had always wished for had finally begun.