Arnack and his pony flew across the plains toward the origin of the voice, and the origin of all Enduwin. The afternoon sun casted long shadows across the plains, which turned their shadows into long distorted shapes. Sir Birdsley had decided to follow him and seemed to be struggling to keep up as it weaved about the sky. Arnack wondered if it was dying now that night was falling.

A few more minutes of galloping and they crested a hill to a sight that if he was standing would have floored him in awe. The pony as usual showed little reaction and Sir Birdsley showing renewed vigour began squawking again as it zipped off forwards. A collection of rocks, in itself it wasn’t very impressive but what it symbolised, the gods themselves had stood here and crafted Enduwin. If you believed the stories, given recent events Arnack was hard pressed not to. Observing the scene he noticed a tall old man standing amongst the stones holding a staff that matched his great height. 

Arnack continued at a slower speed fighting the feeling to turn tail and run, the gods wouldn’t care if he lived or died on this quest, whatever it was about. At least if he ran he might have a chance, he wasn’t meant for this his life was to be spent fighting the beasts that roamed preying on the weak. He could do that without embarking on a mad quest, and if Lasair really cared why was he not here now. Sir Birdsley flitted back circling him, urging him on. A memory forced its way up in Arnack’s mind, of his brother the time Calak was bullied and pushed off the docks into the sea. The day Arnack was chosen from amongst the other Candidates. And finally the day he ran into Calak after his Proving. 
He was here because he was a Slayer, sworn to protect the people of Enduwin from all threats. He did this so others did not have to. 

He continued on towards the old man as a winged woman trotted up on the back of a horse the pair looking utterly exhausted. As she collapsed to the ground he heard her calling for herbs. An Alunai, if his memory served from the long days spent in class being tutored on all things beast and magic of Enduwin. The few sightings of them reported by Slayers of old were sketchy at best, creatures of magic unable to do harm, all agreed on that. 

He raced up to her dismounting his pony with all his dwarven grace and began searching for the herbs she so desperately needed, taking his time patting down her waist as he took in her utter beauty. Long dark hair, pale complexion and violet eyes glowing faintly in the sun’s light. He realized he was taking a long time and quickly moved his hands to the pouch untying it from her waist and handing it to her. He hoped in her pained state she would not have noticed his lingering hands. 

He moved away from her giving her some space to work whatever healing magic she would, best not to get in the way of magic. He observed her wound which looked as if it were at least a couple days old and had not even begun the healing process. “You know you really should have rested with that for a day or so before traveling,” He told her self-righteously, even as he noticed the itching beneath his breastplate where the jaguar had torn though his leather. He had not looked at it since the fight, a night ago. He went about removing his breastplate and sweated through undershirt. He moved over to his pony and rummaged through his saddlebags finding fresh bandages, both for himself and the winged-beauty tossing a roll of cloth to her and cleansed his own injury.

Between the woman’s arrival and tending to himself the old man was forgotten and he looked up to the man and said grandly, “Oh by the way, I’m Arnack,” he said holding out his hand once again, except this time without alcohol to offer. Sir Birdsley had decided to land on one of the pillars of origin, where it burst into a brighter flame disintegrating into ashes. “Oh and that’s Sir Birdsley the Fourth,” he said the light of revelation in his eyes as he remembered how the Pheonix had gotten the latter part of its name as a smaller bird ignited from the ashes squawking proudly.