After several more days of travel, the group found themselves cresting a small hill, the plains stretching endlessly before them. In the distance, a cluster of people moved slowly across the landscape.
They were clearly a tribe on the move—about thirty or so individuals, laden with baskets, bundles of fabric, and small children clutching at their parents' hands. Their movements were sluggish, weary, as though they had been traveling for days without proper rest.
Rice, ever the enthusiast, took one look at the group and grinned widely. "Alright, showtime!" he declared, jogging ahead of the others.
Before anyone could stop him, he leapt out from behind the hill, spreading his arms dramatically. "WE COME IN PEACE!" he bellowed, his voice carrying across the plains.
The reaction was immediate. The group froze, their wide eyes locking onto Rice in alarm. Mothers pulled their children close, and the few warriors among them surged to the front, gripping their spears tightly.
"Oh, come on…" Ryden muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. He raised his hands in a gesture of peace and stepped forward. "I've got this."
One of the warriors, a tall man with a commanding presence, took a step closer to Ryden. His dark hair was streaked with gray, and his lined face carried the weight of years spent protecting his people. His sharp green eyes were cautious but curious as he studied Ryden, his spear held in a steady but non-threatening position.
He was built sturdily, his broad shoulders suggesting a life of labor and combat. Despite the exhaustion etched into his features, there was a warmth about him—a fatherly air that softened his otherwise formidable appearance.
As the warrior approached, Lucy's green eyes lit up with recognition. She broke away from Ryden's side and sprinted toward the man, her voice breaking with emotion.
"Father!" she cried, her silver hair streaming behind her.
The man's expression shifted instantly, his spear clattering to the ground as he dropped to one knee, arms outstretched. "Lucy!" he exclaimed, his voice thick with relief.
The two collided in a tight embrace, Lucy sobbing into his chest as he held her close, murmuring words of comfort.
After a moment, the man—Fennrick—looked up at the three outsiders. His green eyes, now brimming with gratitude, locked onto them.
"You brought her back to me," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "Thank you. I thought she was gone…"
Darius gave a small nod, his expression respectful. "She's tough. Survived out here on her own and found us."
"Still," Fennrick said, rising to his feet and keeping Lucy close. "I owe you a debt I can never repay."
Fennrick turned back to the rest of his tribe, his voice steady but soft as he gestured for them to settle. "Rest here for a moment," he said, his tone carrying a gentleness that belied the exhaustion etched into his features. The weary travelers began to lower their burdens, children clutching at their parents while others collapsed onto the grass, their faces pale and drawn.
The tall warrior turned back toward the trio and Lucy, beckoning them to follow. He led them a little way from the main group to a patch of shade under a solitary tree, where they could sit away from the watchful eyes of his people.
As they settled onto the soft grass, Lucy clung to her father's arm, unwilling to let go, while Fennrick crouched beside them. His green eyes, heavy with gratitude and fatigue, studied each of them for a long moment.
"Thank you," he said finally, his voice low, almost reverent. "For saving my daughter. I thought I'd lost her forever." His hand rested lightly on Lucy's silver hair, brushing it aside as he looked down at her.
Before the trio could respond, his tone shifted, more somber now. "But I must warn you. You shouldn't have stayed. You've done more than I could have hoped, but the Blood Talons…" His voice faltered briefly before he continued. "They're surely tracking us. We don't have much time left. For your safety, travelers, I beg you—leave while you still can."
Ryden, sitting cross-legged with his arms resting on his knees, tilted his head. "Where are you going?" he asked quietly, his blue-gray eyes meeting Fennrick's with an intensity that made the older man pause.
Fennrick exhaled heavily, his shoulders sagging as he answered. "There's another tribe—stronger than us. We're seeking refuge with them. They're not allies exactly, but they have no quarrel with us. If they'll take us in…" He trailed off, glancing toward the huddled group of his people. "It's our only hope."
Darius furrowed his brow, leaning forward. "Why seek refuge? What happened?"
Fennrick hesitated, his gaze shifting toward the horizon as though searching for a threat that might already be there. "It was the Blood Talons," he said grimly. "We're what's left of the Greyleaf tribe," he said, his tone heavy. "We were on equal footing with the Blood Talons for years—neither side strong enough to completely crush the other. There was always bad blood, but we held our ground."They've always been stronger physically, but we had the numbers. It was enough to hold them off… until recently." His voice dropped, tinged with bitterness.
"What changed?" Ryden pressed, his tone calm but persistent.
"They have a new chief," Fennrick said, his eyes narrowing. "Ruthless. Clever. And somehow, she's made them stronger—far stronger than we've ever seen. Their warriors… they fight like they're possessed. Some of them are surrounded by a blood-red aura. Others… they call down fire, or move like shadows in the wind."
The trio exchanged glances, the description unmistakable to them: spirits.
"Well," Rice said, leaning back against the tree. "Can we tag along with you guys?"
Fennrick blinked, taken aback by the casual suggestion. "You want to come with us? Why?"
Rice shrugged his shoulders "there's no where else for us to go honestly, we're" he said glancing at Ryden and Darius who both sat in silence "a bit lost to be honest"
Fennrick thought for a moment then he gestured to the small group behind him. "This is all that's left. We are about a few days away but…" He hesitated, glancing over his shoulder at the wary faces of his people. "They're still frightened. We'll let you come with us, but keep your distance. Trust is… hard to come by now."