Juna had been riding alongside Lothren, riding upon her steed named Kevala. Upon Kevala, Juna rode up on her steed, and felt the wind comb through her, her hair flying gently through the wind. She had done so an innumerable number of times. As usual, she tended to focus more on riding than what Lothren had been saying, yet she could tell that there was something serious in his voice. She could tell in it’s tone.

“It sounds quite like thunder,” Juna said. “Yet it’s sound is far too low, isn’t it?”

Lothren pulled the reins of his suddenly, his horse crying out and stopping in its track. He put up its hand as a signal to the rest of the Ytharien. Juna pulled on Kevala’s reins, and he cried out before his hooves smashed against the ground and stopped further movement. She could definitely her the murmuring “thunder” uttered from beneath the ground. It sounded no different thunder, and most would not have given it any special thought if they did not realize that the sound surely came from below.

Lothren was startled. He seemed to be worried about something for sure, although Juna had no way of knowing of what. She knew better than to doubt him. He told her to ride, so she did. Kevala rode alongside Lothren’s steed, both of them riding as fast and as hard as their horses could take them. Juna could still here the sound of thunder, but nothing spectacularly noteworthy happened to them on their trek back. All that was there was the anticipation. 

They eventually returned to their caravan, and it was clear to Juna that nothing had happened. At least, nothing had happened yet. Bolgar, the dwarven poet, was there along with the others, and nothing had happened to them. Juna uttered a small sigh of relief just a moment before she felt a sudden quake from the ground that nearly threw her out of her saddle.

“One of you can track, right?” Annara said, turning to her and Aust.

Juna turned her head towards Aust.