[color=goldenrod][i][h2][center]Gerard Segremors[/center][/h2][/i][/color]
[@Conscripts][@Krayzikk]

The unspoken prayers rung out in chorus, so many of the Order devotees of the paired divines honored here. Gerard, for his part, had always found it odd that the Silver Stones were so much closer to his predominantly Reonite home than the Golds, off on the other end of the country— but maybe it was meant to be that way. Ancient shrines standing to remind that the pair were inseparably intertwined— following the teachings of one never excluded the other.

[color=goldenrod][i]I hate to trespass hallowed ground so fired up, Lady Mayon, but I promise it isn't irreverent. Not like the pigs we're hunting. If you'll watch over us, we'll rip this bad omen out of your shrine before you know it.[/i]

"Took the words right out of my mouth, Sir Steffen,"[/color] the former mercenary chuffed as he dismounted, shaking the ride out of his thankfully sturdy legs— half a lifetime's marching had conditioned them enough that a day's ride hadn't sapped him so completely as to be useless out here, however he lagged behind in cavalry experience.[color=goldenrod]"I'll focus the north edge. Riding in from the east like this, it'd be natural to try and encircle us from the flanks. They're dumb, Boars, but they ain't braindead."[/color]

With that, the wolf shut up, watched, and listened as he began to walk.

They had to have known that they'd be tailed here the moment one of their number got killed in the massacre at the fort— from what their short debrief had gone over, it seemed the depiction of the Stones had been pretty widespread among those disguised. They had to know [i]someone[/i] was gonna pick up the scent— whether or not they'd expected Roses didn't matter.

The wind shifted, sending the branches that ringed the edges of the clearing to sway in the lowering light. The shadows cast on the far side from Cae Mayl flickered and danced like arms of shadow, growing longer by the minute as Reon's warmth sank overhead. That was where evil lurked— the dark that Reon cast aside, that Mayon gave the weary a haven from. That was where he'd find them, preparing to spring their trap.

His gaze locked onto the gloom, below the dancing canopy, searching for those shadows he was certain he'd find, flitting from trunk to trunk.

He'd need his night eyes before long anyway— focusing on the shining stones or glimmering pool or dancing foliage would dull the vision.

He believed his instincts when they told him that they were going to be welcomed by far less respectful interlopers all too soon.