Feyrith stood in front of Edwyr's house, trying to get the quasir he'd been lent to get to know and used to him before Lanna and Arbane came to meet with him. There hadn't been a need for a quasir until now, so Feyrith hadn't had one, and he was still not sure what to do with the way these humans readily gave him one without thinking twice. And he was also still not sure how he felt about being given Edwyr's house either.

Feyrith lightly patted the quasir's head, just like Arbane had told him to do, to which the beast let out a pleased chirp. But Feyrith wasn't looking at his new mount right now. Instead, he was peering at Edwyr's house, feeling a kind of sorrow. He supposed he should feel angry, resentful of Edwyr after what had happened, but instead he was simply sad. He'd not dared touch anything in the house he hadn't strictly needed to touch, leaving everything in its original place. He wasn't even sure why, but it felt wrong.

His entire stay here felt wrong. He'd wanted to go after the elves who had taken his magic, but between the constant beast attacks and generally having very little idea as to where to even start, Feyrith hadn't managed to progress with his plans at all. And he was constantly torn between being glad that at least he was being useful to the locals, helping protect them, and feeling like a failure for losing his magic.

Feyrith swallowed, trying to push away the misery clawing at him. It was much more difficult to keep his emotions in check while around humans, who did very little to hide theirs, and it never failed to make him feel worse.

The quasir cooed, pushing its head against Feyrith's chest and rubbing against him. Feyrith blinked, hesitantly stroking the dark purple feathers on its neck, which just encouraged the animal to push closer to him. Feyrith still wasn't sure how to handle the humans' quasir. They were not all this friendly, but the majority of them didn't seem to treat their humans as masters, but rather as herd members, which was in direct contrast to the elven quasir. From a practical standpoint, this was problematic, as these quasir were quite undisciplined at times, but none of the humans seemed to care.

"Getting along?" came an amused voice from his left, making Feyrith look that way. Arbane and Lanna were walking toward him, their quasir at their sides, equipped with leather armor, bows, and knives. Clearly, they were ready. And so was he, even if he still thought this was dangerous and potentially very much not worth it.

"So it seems," Feyrith replied, looking back at his quasir, which was now bobbing its head at him. It was far too energetic for comfort.

"Have you named him yet?" Lanna asked as she came up to him, scratching the quasir's side.

Feyrith frowned, shaking his head. Of course he hadn't. He had actually entirely forgotten that it was customary for humans to do so.

"We'll think of something." Lanna's smile was genuine but somewhat sad. She and Arbane seemed to get like this from time to time, but at least this time, Feyrith was fairly certain he knew the reason why that was—they missed their friend. They were standing in front of Edwyr's house, after all. When he'd brought up Edwyr in the past, both of the humans seemed unwilling to talk about him, but even to Feyrith it was clear they missed him.

"If it were me, I'd go with Cuddles," Arbane joked as the quasir ran in a circle around Lanna and pressed himself against her. Lanna laughed, giving the beast a hug around its neck before heading back to her own quasir who had started stomping, its ears flat against its head and jealousy in its eyes.

As Lanna began to mutter to her quasir to calm it, Feyrith shook his head. He truly didn't understand why humans didn't train their mounts better to avoid situations like this.

Though looking at his new quasir, its eyes wide and excited as it jumped up for no reason other than happiness, it was difficult not to give in and pet it. He'd always been taught that it only served to spoil the quasir, making them less effective in their task of transporting elves, and yet it brought such strange joy to him to see the beast so enthusiastic for no particular reason.

Sighing, Feyrith climbed onto his quasir's back, patting its neck, which produced another happy chirp. It was times like this when he had to question why he was still hanging onto the elven traditions so much. It felt like a betrayal to his heritage to throw it all behind him and try the human way of doing things, and yet his own people had no problem banishing him and ignoring his warnings.

Was this how Edwyr had felt all these years? Because it was terrible. Even if Feyrith managed to get his magic back, he didn't think he could go back to Aendor, which meant that he would have to find some balance, or he feared he would go mad.

As they started to make their way out of town, Feyrith scanned the houses, looking for damage that had been done last night. But the worst he could find were some holes in roofs, which were already being repaired, and people with bandages, which was nothing short of a miracle. The so-far unnamed beasts that had attacked them yesterday had been large enough to very easily kill someone, and though the humans would have won due to their numbers and craftiness, someone could have died.

If they could somehow put a stop to this, they had to do it quickly. Before there was nothing left to protect.

Feyrith wasn't entirely certain where exactly they were going, but he was more comfortable following rather than leading, and so he stayed quiet and behind his two companions as they made their way toward the jungle. They were an hour away from it, but it was still clearly visible on the horizon, an inescapable wall of trees and dangerous animals.

His quasir was still a bit too excited, but unlike before, it was simply going a little faster than he'd like, so he let it be, glad that despite first impressions, the quasir was actually very obedient.

"So, where exactly are we going?" asked Lanna, clearly aiming the question at Arbane, but Feyrith was close enough to hear her well.

"Well, the beasts are coming from the jungle, right? So I thought we'd check around there first."

A sound plan, if somewhat dangerous. Feyrith still remembered his rather terrible plan of trying to traverse a part of the jungle at night, almost dying for his trouble. And he'd had magic to defend himself, then.

Still, they had daylight, and he was sure they wouldn't go inside much at all, so this should be fine.

They came to a halt a while later when they were still far away from the jungle, though, stopped by Lanna when she raised her hand.

Arbane studied her with a frown. "What is it?"

"Have you seen the herd of squawkers that lives around here?"

As if understanding the words, Feyrith quasir stilled, for the first time looking somewhat dejected. Feyrith looked around, knowing that he had seen a herd of quasir in these parts several times, but now there was no sign of them.

"No. You think maybe they left, and that's why the beasts are attacking us?" Arbane asked, which made Lanna shake her head.

"I don't know. But the squawkers are what the beasts usually hunt."

They set off once more after that, but Feyrith couldn't stop thinking about this. A lack of food would certainly make the jungle predators more willing to attack human settlements, but something like this couldn't be the cause if it had been happening for months. That herd had been here not too long ago and Sunwood had gotten attacked anyway.

And it still most likely wouldn't have been natural. The only explanation he could think of for a waning food source for the beasts would be either a natural disaster, some kind of disease decimating the population, or humans overhunting. And none of these, at least to his knowledge, were an issue. He was sure there were humans killing animals for fun out there, despite it being dangerous, but he was sure there weren't enough to cause this.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

As they approached the jungle, the early morning sun making the trees' shadows all the bigger and threatening, Feyrith tensed up, his hand finding the bow hanging from his shoulder. It was a poor replacement for his staff, but he knew he could defend himself and others with it, which did lend him some determination.

But as they approached, everything seemed to be calm. The jungle had a tendency to be misleading, as it looked serene and safe from the outside, but stepping inside could very quickly result in a fight for one's life. Even more disturbingly, nothing he'd read during his life on Aendor truly explained what exactly the jungle contained. Not even elves were brave enough to step inside farther than the outskirts because even that part of the jungle was too dangerous, as he'd quickly learned.

As they made their way around the tree line, heading south, though, a very faint roar reached Feyrith's ears, making his head turn toward the jungle. He couldn't see anything aside from a mass of trees, vines, and ferns, but as another, somewhat louder roar came, he knew for certain that the sounds were coming from inside the jungle.

"What is it, Fey?"

Feyrith wanted to reply, realizing that his superior hearing meant that the humans probably hadn't heard anything, but before he could, another screech filled the air, sounding much closer to them, along with the sound of something crashing into trees. And it was heading right for them.

"Run!" yelled Arbane, immediately turning his quasir around. Lanna and Feyrith did the same, making their mounts dash away just in time to avoid a tree falling right on top of them. But the tree wasn't what Feyrith was paying attention to as he turned around once they were at a safe distance. No, it was the scaly, winged beast lying on top of it, breathing hard.

"A scalewing?" he heard Lanna question quietly somewhere behind him. Indeed it was a scalewing, or as elves called them, a furoi, but it was covered in bloody cuts and bruises. From the way it was trying to unsuccessfully pick itself up off the ground, it was clear that it hadn't simply broken the tree, but that it had been thrown into it. The furoi had no predators, and they were solitary animals. What could have hurt it like this?

The answer came quickly and with a roar loud enough to make Feyrith grimace. Another furoi appeared, this one with a blue sheen to its green scales, bigger and much less injured. As it landed in front of the first furoi, the injured beast scrambled to get away, flapping its wings and making a hasty escape. Even though the furoi were especially bloodthirsty and ruthless, Feyrith couldn't help but feel a hint of pity for the animal. With injuries like this, he doubted it would make it far, especially out in the open.

But that wasn't what he was focusing on the most. What they'd just witnessed was not something he'd ever think he'd see. "Furoi fighting furoi."

It was unprecedented, as far as he knew. Most of these beasts hunted by themselves and kept to themselves, and there hadn't been too many of them in one area at any point, so the odds of two fighting for territory were already rare. But the furoi could fly. They had no qualms about relocating and moving from one corner of the continent to the other in search of prey. There was no need for them to fight.

"Fu-what?"

"Furoi. Scalewings, as you call them," Feyrith replied, turning his quasir around so he could face the two humans. "They do not fight each other. Usually, they have no reason to."

"I've never seen two in one place before," Lanna commented, brushing her fingers over the neck of her quasir. The animal did look very disturbed by what they'd just seen, as was Feyrith's and Arbane's, their eyes wide, ears raised, and bodies shaking. "Something has to be wrong."

They continued following the line of the jungle, making sure to keep their distance this time just to be safe, but it wasn't long before they were slowing down again as mangled remains of what had likely been a quasir appeared in the distance. A corpse of a quasir itself wouldn't be too strange of a find if not out in the open like this. Most of the local predators preferred to stay within the jungle, and it was where they brought their prey as well because the trees provided cover. So for the quasir to end up here, the beast who had hunted it must have either been disturbed or could not hide in the jungle, for whatever reason.

Feyrith narrowed his eyes as he climbed off his mount and made his way to the dead quasir, knowing that these animals generally reacted very negatively to dead members of their species, and he didn't want to risk his mount running away in fear.

Judging by the deep gashes and the way the body of the quasir had been practically torn apart, Feyrith was fairly certain it had fallen victim to one of those scalewings. It would take a very large animal to do this.

Not noticing anything that could help them figure out what was going on, Feyrith went back to his quasir, mounting it, only answering the humans' curious glances by shaking his head.

They continued exploring the area for hours, not finding much that would help them aside from another mangled corpse of a quasir. And the herd which usually grazed these plains was still nowhere to be seen. Feyrith refused to consider that they'd all been killed so quickly, so the only explanation he had was that they'd all run away somewhere they deemed safer.

They didn't stop again until they heard shrieking in the distance and went the way it had come from even as everything went silent again, only to come across another cadaver. But despite its feathers, this one wasn't of a quasir's.

Lying on its side with one of its large wings bent at an unnatural angle, clearly broken, was an oriam. The beast was relatively preserved, with most of its body unharmed aside from its neck, which had a large, gaping wound in it that was still leaking blood. This was a fresh kill, and would no doubt soon captivate the attention of whichever beast was hungry and within the area. They would have to inspect the body quickly before that happened.

"What could have killed a bloodfeather like this?" wondered Arbane as he jumped off his quasir and walked to the body. Feyrith and Lanna joined him, peering down at the remains of the oriam. It was large, but not large for an oriam. And the fact that whatever had killed it hadn't consumed it, Feyrith was starting to put together what might have happened.

"This must have been a fight over territory."

"How do you figure?" Lanna asked, pointing at the oriam's wound. "Anything could have done that. And I thought bloodfeathers got along with other bloodfeathers."

Feyrith nodded, somewhat impressed at the humans' knowledge whenever they presented it. "Yes, but that is true mostly with flocks, or mated pairs."

Arbane gave him a strange look at that. "So, those two bloodfeathers that tried to kill us a month ago were, what, bird-married?"

Feyrith never could not be fascinated with how different the human way of talking was, but he only gave himself half a second to appreciate the strangeness of it before answering. "Yes, possibly."

"Huh."

"But why are they attacking each other?" Lanna asked, gesturing to the dead oriam. "Is something making them more aggressive?"

Feyrith opened his mouth to share his theories, but then he paused, thinking about what she'd just said. He'd not given this angle much thought, but he supposed it could also be true. If something was making the beasts more aggressive, it would certainly lead to them attacking each other on an unprecedented scale. But without any evidence, all they had were theories, and as such there was no reason to try to develop them too much yet.

"Possibly. Or perhaps they have lost a food source and migrated to this part of the continent." Feyrith looked over at the jungle, frowning at the shadows between the thick tree trunks. "We should leave."

He didn't need to explain why—the two humans nodded immediately, knowing what a fresh body this close to the jungle could mean. As Feyrith was about to climb into his quasir's saddle, though, he froze. There was...something wrong. He couldn't identify it, and yet something seemed off.

And then suddenly he felt it. A barely noticeable tremor shook the ground. It was so insignificant that he wasn't even sure how or why he noticed it because somehow he didn't think it was his superior reflexes and senses. But while his human companions mostly seemed confused as to why he wasn't climbing into his saddle, the quasir reacted, jerking back and flicking their ears.

Lanna and Arbane immediately went to calm their mounts down, patting them, and Feyrith would have done the same, if not for the roars coming from the jungle, and several large shapes flying up from it. Knowing that whatever had made that noise and what had just flown out of the jungle would be a problem, Feyrith quickly jumped up onto his quasir's back, turning it around with a quick jerk on its reins.

Neither Lanna nor Arbane questioned him as he brought his quasir to a gallop, getting away as quickly as possible with the two humans following right behind him. Feyrith didn't stop until he knew they were in a safe distance and could feel his mount slowing down, exhausted from the sprinting.

"What was that?" Arbane exclaimed as he stopped his quasir right next to Feyrith's. But the elf had no answer for him. He truly had no idea what had just happened.

"You felt something, didn't you? Whatever alarmed our squawkers," Lanna said.

Feyrith nodded. "A tremor in the earth. A distant earthquake, perhaps."

Arbane frowned, looking skeptical. "There are no earthquakes this far north. Never have been."

Feyrith felt his stomach turn. Then perhaps the earthquake had not been natural but rather caused by magic. It would certainly explain why he'd be more sensitive to it than the humans if that were the case. But if that were true, then.... Could the rogue elves be responsible? It felt like he was trying to connect things that were not linked, but he couldn't help but wonder.

"Whatever it was, it disturbed the beasts in the jungle, as well as our own." Feyrith sighed and swallowed. "And it could very well be the source of our problem."