✺ and no lamb, no savior's shelter ✺ private ✺

The trail of white that led through a split in the mountains was now stained with splotches of red, those of which trailed out of six bodies; two were alive, while four had perished. Mangled bodies of four Rune Knights, all men and all in their bright and multi-colored uniforms, lay within their own pools of blood provided by slash marks as well as purple flowers and crystals of ice. It was another day in which the Magic Council had sent a squad in order to eliminate the Elder Dragon Tamer; this time, it was not pleasant. Slowly coughing and picking up her spear of the sunset that lay sunk into the head of the boy close to her, she shook as she applied the strength in order to rip it outward. While it was difficult, as the blood slowly staining her white coat from the inside crept outward and down onto her boots, she eventually was successful. Normally she would not have struggled, but at the moment she was impaled; she had a singular arrow pierced directly through her stomach, the sharp end sticking out of her back and the feathered sticking out of the front. Mlezi wa Theluji, on the other hand, was collapsed against the stone of the mountain that shot steeply upward and had blood stained around her mouth and hands. While she was not extremely harmed, she was nearly out of magical power to even function; she was so weak that she was unable to switch into her true form and bring them to their tribe, nearly fifty miles up the mountain, in the form of flight.  

"Minzy..." the girl with pink eyes said softly as she slowly walked toward her guardian dragon, "are you... okay?" Crimson eyes met with bangs that covered the purple that glistened dimly from the girl that was her ultimate companion, her purple garments ripped and her body in the position to where she could rest her head and arms upon her knees against the mountain. "Minz-" Leilani began to insist when suddenly the head of the dragoness bobbed slightly, "i'm- i'm... my body hurts...". A cold gust of wind blew harshly through the trail and caused the girl in all white to stagger, but luckily she caught herself before ultimately falling onto her side into the snow. Making her way to the side of the mountain right next to Minzy, the girl pressed herself up against it with her side and tried to lower herself to brush her hands through her friend's hair. How would they be able to make it back home? They were both in great pain, one impaled in their chest and the other nearly ready to pass out; it would be impossible to get there without assistance. "Do you have any potions...? ... or- fla... flares?" Leilani insisted with a sharp pain pulsing in her stomach, her hands meeting the part of the arrow which fell inside in order to ease the blood drainage. Minzy reached into her purple bag that lay next to her and pulled out what appeared to be a broken and empty bottle along with a flare which was snapped in half; she did not, and tears began to swell up on the sides of her eyes which were covered in the shadows.

"..." Silence filled the land-form that one would call a small ravine, and Leilani began to slowly rip off feather after feather from the object that passed through her chest in hopes she would be able to have Mlezi wa Theluji pull it out from the back once this was done. However, by the display of her companion, it did not look like that would be able to happen. "We need to find a way up that mountain..." the tribe chief said in between coughs, "to home." Letting out a deep and vibrant cough that lead to blood splattering once again, onto the rocks that she rested upon, her hair began to gust with the winds that flew around their bodies. With their only source of light in the shadows being both of their dim-lit magical eyes and the spear that was rested in-between them, the girls both showed their levels of emotions quite well; one crying softly, while the other was dead silent in thought and aching pain. Leilani felt more pain by seeing the dragoness in this state more than anything, she could have cared less about the arrow that stuck through her stomach. Why did this pain her so much? Mlezi wa Theluji was one who was always joyous; seeing her cry was something that made her experience the pain that she went through despite it not happening to her directly. Empathy. A singular tear rolled down her right eye, slowly falling and causing a transparent work of art to match her left cheek. Her left cheek, being a similar trail of art in the color of crimson.

There were few, if any, sunny days on Mt. Hakobe. Skies that greeted them were always grey with an overcast of clouds, only letting shreds of light through its fluffy barrier. The air was always cool and nipped at hot cheeks and naked flesh. It was a gloomy climate many had grown so accustomed to that even the small changes are exceptionally noticeable, whether it be the pungent zing of an oncoming storm or, in this case, the coppery smell of blood. Though, not surprisingly, this was nothing new for the criminals atop the feature, who wore it like a cheap cologne.

Among these criminals was a raven-haired man dressed in black fabrics. He wore a thick, hoodless jacket, black gloves, leather boots, and a black face mask to shield his mouth from whatever harmful things might make contact with it. Among the collective fluffy specks of white on the ground, this man stood out like a sore thumb.

Ahote briskly trudged through the snow, following the ongoing path of what looked to be blood and the trail of something that was dragged. It was nothing to get excited over, as violence was a common sight in the bitter wasteland that was Mt. Hakobe. But, for whatever reason, numerous squads of Rune Knights had been arriving but never leaving as of late. Ahote figured it was nothing to worry over, as those brave and brawny enough to scale the mountain would surely perish in order to reach the fortress of Basilisk Fang. None had been prepared enough for the natural hazards the feature had shielded the rebel guild with, and eventually, many had stopped trying. Nevertheless, it was a situation worth investigating. So, reluctantly, the inquisitive young man trudged forth, his boots wet with snow and complexion sharp with bitterness.

The raven-haired man continued to follow the path until the splotches of crimson became wetter and larger, like cherry syrup on shaved ice. It had been obvious that the victims were somewhere nearby in what now appeared to be a small ravine, a familiar feature to the wandering Ahote.

One hand had been stuffed into his jacket pocket while the other restlessly played with a switchblade in the other, twisting and twirling the blade in-between digits like some sort of toy. He didn't intend to use such a mediocre tool for combat purposes, as it was more to ease his strange tick and need to touch things.

Just ahead had been exactly what he was looking for, the supposed victims or perpetrators of what Ahote assumed to be a murder. Both were equally plausible to him. One woman, who had a complexion so pale she nearly camouflaged with the snow, had an arrow pierce through her belly, while the other seemed to be dying silently. He was almost convinced that only tragedy awaited those who visited this mountain.

Quietly, Ahote shuffled through the snow and stopped only a few paces away from the slouched, wounded figures, "Oh, what a mess. . ." Ahote scoffed, brows snapping together in a strong disappointment and lips releasing a frosty sigh, shaking his head softly.