[Center][h1][color=999999]Demund[/color][/h1][/center]

There was a reason Demund avoided hunting; he hated dealing with nature! First they all had to wade through knee deep water. Completely soaking his boots giving the slightest breeze the enough bite to chill his whole being. Then almost immediately after was an usually steep hill at the tree line that everyone decided to climb. Now Demund was not only cold, but starting to tire as well.

Any sane person would have turned around or at least suggested another spot. But there was something... pushing him. Something telling him to carry on ward as if there was somewhere he had to be. Somewhere he was needed. But why?

At first he thought he was going mad, that his imagination was simply trying to give meaning to such a miserable trip. But as he spotted obvious animal tracks that Gale seemed to ignore completely, he knew. It wasn't just him. Gale must be feeling it as well. And who was to say the others weren't as well? 

And yet, he didn't speak up. There was still a lingering doubt in his mind telling him it was nothing. That if he were to try and discuss it with the others he would find that he was alone in his feelings. So silently he carried forward waiting to see what would come off this little adventure.