Eagles flew overhead.
Lots-
And lots of eagles.
They hunted smaller birds-
'Survival of the fittest…' Flint chuckled to himself.
Through the grass- through the dew- on a slightly upward curve- up this small mountain.
"What?" Said the woman next to him- Erweine-
A black robe with a cloak, a staff in her hand; ready.
"Just remembered a phrase from my father…"
Dead leaves, rotted wood beneath their feet; and that wonderful pungent smell….
"Speaking of who-" The man next to him- Arack Verman grumbled. "What's the name of your father again?"
A suit- a white suit and nothing else. Surprisingly it had no mark, no stain, even in this place.
"Edil Maysheather-" Flint said. He wore his purple armor and had his black sword along with his trusted second sword.
The three- trudged through the great forest of Ur, just next to the city.
Their destination- the other side of the forest and the top of the mountain.
