[i][h2][color=MediumSeaGreen]Lora Kadar[/color][/h2][/i]


Lora woke easily the next morning and helped shuffle the rest out into the stables and onto the road. She was only a little tired though her nose ached; Drosil’s inebriated appearance at their table had included far too many smells and upset her greatly. For the most part she rode quietly near Ayano and Diane—but not too close. She had spent the latter part of the night and now the beginning of the journey trying to find a good way to go about keeping her promise to Ayano, and the last thing she wanted to draw was more prompting. Or worse, Ayano sticking to her promise of bringing it up to Cyril herself. 

There was simply no good way to ask the Prince of her childhood home country if she could continue tagging along behind him and his sister on their mission to save said country. She had very little, if anything, to contribute to the mission besides her five senses and pleasant demeanor, and there was no way to request her staying without it sounding desperate or too commanding. On the other hand, however, pulling him aside to discuss her point of exit on the journey would seem like a guilt trip. She would settle for simply following until she became a burden or they passed the best route to her pack, except if she did nothing Ayano might—correctly, at that—think that she wasn’t going to ask him to stay. 

It was a stalemate if she ever had one, and she wished she could just fight it out. But the only person to fight would be herself, which was impossible, pointless, and could be fought just as well internally. She sighed heavily, resigning herself to the rest of the journey into Gurata. Perhaps if she just let it go for now, the answer would come to her. 

Something came to them, though it wasn’t the answer she had hoped for. The air around them grew steadily colder, but the chill was welcome to Lora and didn’t reach through her layers. Pax snorted as they crossed the border, comforted by the familiar lack of road and knock of rocks against his hooves. She leaned forward with a gentle pat on his neck and he moved with a new energy when she squeezed him. They continued on for a while, though, and by the time they came across something Pax had settled back down.

Cyril spotted it at the same time she did, and quickened his horse’s pace towards the collapsed man. Lora followed as close behind as she dared, and when they drew up in front of him he managed one word before passing out. 

[i]“Rum?”[/i] she asked, looking between the man and Cyril. Had she heard that right? Drunks collapsed on the road weren’t particularly common for Gurata, but it was always possible. Unless… “Did he mean [i]run?[/i]” She quickly glanced between the two again and then at the area around their travelling party. Everything seemed quiet and there was nothing in sight, but that only meant if there was something out there, it would be even worse. 

Lora slid down from Pax and dropped his reins to the ground, bending down to the man’s side and gently moving his shoulder. He was out cold, and Lora wondered how long he had been there before they approached. He smelled of smoke and blood, and Lora began shuffling around his clothes until she found the crusted wound behind his shoulder. She turned and looked back up at Cyril, thinking it was far more likely he had said Run. “He’s injured, it looks like it took a lot out of him. It’s old, though—not fresh. Whatever happened I think there was a fire, he—he smells like smoke. It’s hanging on his clothes.” She turned back to look at the man, shaking her head. “He doesn’t look like he’ll make it much longer.”