[b]Seusebi Camp[/b]

The mud and the grass rose and fell. The space was clear. Abandoned tents stood, fabric flapping in the wind. For all purposes amid the noise, there were no signs. Niyo stood at the edge of the scene, careful to not go further. As a hunter he knew being too careless would disturb any of the signs he needed to track. And as a warrior he knew he had to do it right.

Still, all the same looking into the Bugan section of the camp he could not help but feel the acidic burn of guilt crawling within him. He had been naive enough to leave his brother with them. Were they too poorly defended themselves to hold a fight and thus routed? Or could this be a plot? The questions sparked a wide number of implications, giving rise to the prince to question himself. It scarred him. It wormed in his chest. This was it. This was the feeling of guilt in its deadliest of forms.

He lowered himself to his haunches. Bending over the powdered clay. There hadn't been fighting here. Not as much as elsewhere. How many raiders had attacked their camp? It seemed enough to soak the ground and turn over the grass. Here the ground was dry and baked. The grass was thick, hardly flattened. Stalks were bent, but not flattened to the ground. It hadn't been stampeded.

Rwan and cried out to him to not leave. Had the young satyr known something wrong was going to happen? Had he felt it somehow? There was a deep seated terror in Niyo that he had not paid attention. He hadn't seen or heard the signs. There was a deep burning concern and fear he had not listened to Rwan. Perhaps if he had taken him to his mother's tent to join the battle he would be OK. Or he would have been guarded by several of his mother's retinue, and his brothers in arms.

Moving carefully through the camp he brushed his fingers through the dust. Feeling the depressions and indentations. Trying to tell their stories. Feeling and looking at which way the hoof was turned. Their size. How deep they went in. Every so often he came across a drop of blood. Rwan's probably.

On the side of his hooves and the tips of his fingers and crept over the scene like a spider. Following the trail as it weaved through the camps' clearing. It came into a tent briefly. The droplets of blood closing in on proximity. The interior was largely untouched. But things had been moved.

The matting that covered the floor was a mess of blood. Had this been where they took his brother to be treated for his injuries? Mami's medicine shaman?

In the corner was a pile of messy cushions, pushed aside against the wall, and large dry red stain on the woven thatched carpet. Nearby a pile of rags, soaked with blood. It had bled into the fabric deep, staining them vibrant shades of maroon red and deep crimson. Several flies were just beginning to busy themselves on the discarded fabric.

He knelt in the middle of the tent. Looking over the belongings that remained. Trying to imagine what had gone missing. Trivial artifacts and personal effects littered the ground and a small end-table alongside where his brother had rested. Niyo picked himself up, and moved over to it.

Small stone and wood idols covered the tables. The horse-like depictions of the spirits of health, surgery, and herbal medicine. He didn't know all their names, but I imagined if Rwan could see them he would name them all. Twenty in all made a clustered kingdom on the bed-stand, alongside needles and a dish holding a thin film of water at the bottom.

From outside he heard the sound of hooves on barren clay. He looked up at the tent entrance, and sighed. “Bui Niyo?” a voice called out. The prince stood up, walking to the tent's flap.

Shoving it aside he walked out into the faint morning sun. Glistening in the orange and yellow light stood a handful of able and ready men. Still dressed for battle, they looked to have not even cleaned their armor. Blood still caked the mail and their spears still dirtied and coated in the blood of the slain. Niyo knew them all. At their head was Idii, ready as he could be.

“Brothers.” he said smiling.

“Niyo.” Idii said, bowing, “Have you found anything yet?” he asked

“I just started. I found where they tended Rwan soon after I got him here. But it doesn't look like they were ready to move him off before tending to his wounds.” he said, gesturing to the ground at his feet. “A trail of blood – I presume his – goes in. But none comes out.”

“Fair enough.” Idii said, stepping aside, “I've your men. We'll follow you for as far as you need to go. And further if need be.” he declared, smiling.

Niyo nodded. He would have smiled, but it would've felt lost. “We'll need to find their trail.”