The lines of the inscription slowly began glowing as he poured more and more energy into them. And after another ten minutes, Lirim finished; the bubbles of wind on his fingertips got sucked into the inscription array.
"And with that we can finally chill," Lirim said as he hopped down and walked over to the other end of the carriage. He then sat down, and snapped his fingers.
The inscription sprang to life, and a gentle breeze began flowing through the wagon. Everyone let out a sigh of relief as they felt the cool winds gently flow over them. Including Amir, who had just begun to stir again.
"Thanks," everyone said in unison, much to Lirim's delight.
The people of the tribe began to flood the stables as the group relaxed, taking up residence in the vast assortment of wagons. Mikhail even saw Sharyl shoot up to inspect the oncoming cacophony, his head peeking over the back of the wagon as he stood on Lirim's shoulder.
