The cold fingers of fear gripped Chance, driving him into action. It was not the fear of his death that spurred him on, but of another, of Lahanal’s. The owl form slipped away and he warped back into his normal body, his left arm dangling uselessly at his side.

“Stop!” he bellowed as soon as could.

A stone came whirling out of the air in response and cracked into his head. Dizziness swept over him, nausea rising.

Damage Received: Low

Health Remaining: Unknown:

Status: Dazed.

His vision swam before him and his head pounded, throbbing with sharp stabs of agony. Blood seeped from a split on his brow, flowing down over his face. He was only vaguely aware of what was going on around him, half blinded by blood and dizziness, finding it hard to even concentrate. A snarl sounded loud from Shags and then came a crunching sound and a shriek of agony, the sounds of it adding fresh lances of pain to his head. Running followed, and curses that slowly faded away into the distance.

Chance raised a hand to his head, feeling the blood warm upon it, trying to steady himself. He leaned heavily against his staff just to stay standing.

He became aware that Shags had returned to his side and Chance blinked, watching as the wolf swam in and out of focus, turning into two wolves before merging back into one.

Sit, the wolf told him.

Chance all but collapsed to the ground, his knees folding as he tried to lower himself down.

You took a bad knock, but nothing appears to be broken.

“What of Lahanal?” Chance managed to ask, even though the act of talking sent more waves of pain rolling through him.

He is gone. I didn’t kill him, as you desired but he won’t be using his hand again, at least not any time soon.

Chance nodded, gritting his teeth as he did. He really needed to think straight but the pain was getting in the way of that. He tried to concentrate on healing himself but his focus kept on slipping and he couldn’t quite grasp it, to bring it in and send the healing magic flowing through him. It took more than a few attempts before he could summon up the healing mists to settle upon him. Relief flooded through him, mending wounds and easing the pain. His thoughts cleared up as most of the headache lifted from him. It took a couple more doses of the magic to bring him back to something approaching normal.

Using his staff, he slowly stood back up again. “He wanted to kill me.”

Yes.

“Me, personally, just because of who I was.” Chance shuddered. He had never experienced hate like that before, directed solely at him. Anger, sure, as he had always had the knack of annoying people, but never to the level that desired his death. “All I was doing was trying to help.”

Some people are beyond help.

“If I believed that, then there would be no help for me either.”

You are not him, Shags responded. There is still hope for you, he added with a wolfish grin.

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“Thanks,” Chance replied dryly. “Your vote of confidence is overwhelming.”

The wolf snorted.

They started back to the camp through the night. “This won’t stop him,” Chance remarked. “If anything, it will just embitter him even more”

Yes. There is a sickness in him. You can’t cure that, not with your magic or your words. At some point, it will come down to you or him.

“I don’t accept that,” Chance said. He couldn't accept it, that the man was that far gone. But it would be a while before they saw him again, enough time at least to try and figure out some means to solve the problem that wasn’t a permanent one.

When they arrived back, they found the other two awake and waiting.

“You keep on rushing off and having all the fun, even after you promised not to,” Snarl said with a grin.

“I wouldn’t exactly call it fun,” Chance told him, slowly sinking back down to the ground. “Lahanal was out there, and it looked like he was hunting me.”

“Him again?’ Yrip said. “We need to be watchful. Set traps.”

“He isn't coming back, at least not now,” Chance said. “Shags saw him off and gave him a reminder that will keep him out of action for a bit.”

Snarl nodded fiercely. “Good. It would be even better if he was unable never to come back.”

Chance lay down beside the faintly glowing coals, wincing as he did. Parts of him were still sore. The healing might have removed the wounds and damage that had been inflicted, but the aches and bruises left behind would linger on for a bit. “Let us hope that he thinks so as well.”

The others returned to their sleep, though Chance took a while to settle back in properly, partly from the discomfort he was experiencing, but also from the thoughts that ran through his head. He never used to sleep badly. An expensive bed helped with that, of course, but so did never having much to worry about, or being concerned for anyone or anything, his actions or words. He was, or had been, Chance Cranlin, and cared about nothing and no one.

On such thoughts, he tossed about for a bit, trying to find a spot that didn't hurt so much, before finally sleep took him.

When he awoke and rose in the morning, he was feeling stiff and sore, grumbling and complaining as he tried to stretch out. What he wouldn’t give for a soft feather bed, just for a night or two.

“Getting old,” Snarl remarked from across the fire, grinning as he coaxed it back to life.

Chance snorted. “I sure hope not. If this is what it feels like, then I think I will stay young.”

“I’ve got some bad news for you there.”

“Shush, you.”

Snarl simply grinned as he started on making them breakfast. When they had eaten and drunk from the stream, they headed off again, following the path that wound its way across the plains. There was a touch of a chill in the morning air, a hint of the coming winter. It only hardened Chance’s resolve to get things organised before it arrived. He had no bad how winters actually got there, if they were mild or even if it was cold enough to snow, but whatever it turned out to be, it still required preparation.

“What kind of winters do we get around here?” he asked his companions.

“Cold, wet,” Snarl replied. “Then more wet, followed by more cold. Makes it a terrible chore to try and keep anything clean.”

“Snow?”

“A little bit, now and then. A lot more up in the hills and mountains.”

Chance nodded. “Good to know.”

They travelled on through the morning and into the afternoon, the plains slowly drifting along by them, barely changing, only gradually becoming aware of a smudge on the horizon, a darkening that began to resemble smoke, though not from a raging fire.

“I’ll check it out,” Chance announced, swiftly assuming the form of the great wedge-tailed eagle again and soaring into the air so that he could get a better look.

Higher and higher he rose, until ahead of him he could see where the stream joined a broad river, and at the junction of the two, there was a town, one surrounded by fields and orchards. A wooden wall had been built around the town, while drifts of smoke rose from it, from chimneys and fireplaces in houses. There was movement around the town, people and animals both, but for the most they kept close to the town walls. Some of the more outlying farms and fields appeared neglected to Chance’s keen vision.

Having seen what he needed to, he drifted back down to re-join the others, shifting back into dwarf form as he landed. “The town is not too far ahead,” he reported. “People still live there too.”

“That is a bonus,” Snarl grinned. “Now we just have to hope that they are friendly.”

“We will find out soon enough,” Chance told him, picking up his pace now that their destination was near to hand.