After breaking camp, Zarath and Tharon made sure to gather and burn the four bodies of the blighted elves. The smell was so foul that neither boy could stand it, Zarath almost puking because of it. After a quick recomposure the boys continued heading south towards the Wolfkin settlement of Vaerthruin home of the Vrak’Thura. As the second day of their journey dragged on other than the attack in the early morning the day had no real events to speak. About mid-day the boys stopped for a few hours to rest and practice a little with their weapons before pushing on again.

          “So how is your spear now that it has those wyvern teeth embedded in the tip?” Zarath asked Tharon as he cleaned his bronze sword.

          “To be honest it has thrown off my balance a bit the fangs added more weight to the top end which means I have to angel my wrist up wards to hit my target. I could use the shield as a brace. But then that means I can’t really move around as much.” Tharon thrusted his spear a few times to showcase his point. The four-pointed black fangs of the wyvern sticking out of the triangle shaped tip of the wyvern bone spear. The colors of white and black contrast with each other nicely. Tharon’s father had done an excellent job of mending the fangs to the bone as if they were always shaped this way. The mark of a skilled Wolfkin Garmakar (craftsmen).

          “Well, you will just have to keep practicing I’m sure once you get use to the weight it won’t make a difference.” Zarath stood up and twirled his sword around a few times before placing it back into the scabbard on his belt.

          “What about the new bow I haven’t seen you use it that much since we left the main camp.” Tharon stretched his arms up, placing the spear behind his neck and draping his arms over the shaft of the spear.

          “Honestly the draw weight is completely wrong the wyvern bone but its not as flexible as wood, yes it will have a much higher shot power, but I am not use to having to pull so hard on the string.” Zarath and Tharon started to walk along the path again, each making notes about their new equipment from the way the human-style armor made it harder to move, or that it was hot compared to where they could originally just walk around in loincloths and the tribe wouldn’t care. They weren’t sure how to live in a human city or how humans even talked to each other.

          For them this was completely new and strange. Even Zarath, who had been educated by the tribes Tharakar(shaman) he only spoke the most basic of the common tongue and Tharon spoke even less than that. But they both knew they didn’t have a choice if they wished to escape the death this curse the blight had on them.

          “Man, I can’t wait to just jump in those scared waters I heard from Tharakar Koto that anyone that baths in the waters of Vrak’Thura comes out stronger and faster than before.” Zarath tried to change the subject as he and his friend Tharon continued their journey.

          “Yeah, my mom said something similar you know she actual bathed in the waters when she was our age Zarath said she came out feeling younger than when she stepped into the lake.” Tharon was quick to jump on the topic, giving his friend a wide smirk.

          “Really I thought only those who were training to become Tharakar or Valkar (spirit weavers) made the pilgrimage to the Vrak’Thura.” Zarath couldn’t help but hide his curiosity as he had never heard of anyone traveling to Vrak’Thura from their tribe other than Tharakar Koto.

          “My mother is Valkar, well she was the Valkar of the Cresent Moon tribe, but she gave up her position when she became my fathers mate and moved with our tribe rather than her own.” Tharon was surprised Zarath didn’t know this. All the adults of the Iron Claw tribe knew, and he and Zarath had been friends basically since birth. But then again Zarath never asked about people’s past, all he knew was that they were a tribe, so it never mattered to him.

          “Well that actually explains a bit now that I think about it, you always healed faster than the other boys our age and your families Kraan-thur was always warmer than everyone else’s.” Zarath’s tail wagged as he and Tharon talked, though he often ignored his role as a Grak'Shrak (death stalker) Zarath always had a curious mind between him and Tharon if you asked who came up with the plan Tharon would always point to Zarath as a response to the question.

          “Hey, Tharon, you still remember how to make your mothers famous rabbit stew right.” Zarath’s ears twitched as some of the tall grass near by rustled even Hura quickly noticed the movement she hunched herself down watching her masters hand for the signal to hunt.

          “I mean yeah, even I am a Krellar now I am still the son of the tribe’s head baker. Though we would have to try and find some wild carrots and some sage.” Tharon noticed the movement as well and scratched his chin as he began the search for his ingredients. While his friend and Hura began their hunt.

          With a quick and swift drop of Zarath’s hand, Hura lunged into the tall grass howling and barking as she did. The grass rustled as Hura drove their prey towards her master.  As Hura chased Zarath readied himself taking his now wyvern bone bow from his back he lowered himself down onto one knew and nocked and arrow. He knew he would have to make the first shot count; rabbits were fast and if he missed, he risked losing dinner or possibly hurting his bond, Hura. Zarath closed his eyes, his ears twitching atop his head as he listened to the sounds. He took a deep breath through his nose letting the scent of the rabbits and Hura fill his mind. Quietly, patiently, just as the grass parted and out exploded his prey Zarath’s eyes snapped open he drew back and loosed the arrow striking true. Hura quickly burst from the grass a few seconds behind the rabbit rushing to her master’s side.

          “Good girl, Hura good girl.” Zarath patted Hura’s sides as she brushed against his leg. Retrieving the arrow and the now dead rabbit Zarath thought to himself. “Well, we could always use one or two more.” He looked at Hura and dropped his hand again giving the signal to hunt. The two of them spent the next few hours hunting through the tall grass while Tharon found a spot to set up camp and search for his ingredients, each off to do their task to prepare for the evening meal.

          As the sun dipped down over the horizon and the sky turned a bright vibrant orange. Both Zarath and Tharon had set up their tents and had a decent meal. They managed a small fire with some dry grass. Both laughed into the night as they feasted on the first hot meal in two days. Hura tearing into a rabbit beside the fire.

          “Dam I’m glad at least one of us can cook, and I’m so glad you know your mothers’ recipes Tharon.” Zarath let out a sigh as he lay back on the grass. Stretching out his fur bristled a bit.

          “Hey, you can cook, well you can grill at least.” Tharon laughed as he sat back rubbing his belly like normal. He knew Zarath wasn’t much of a cook but at least his friend wouldn’t starve if left to his own devices.

          “So, are we going to talk about what happened this morning Zarath?” Tharon looked over at his friend, knowing all day that Zarath wanted to avoid the truth that the two of them were being hunted.

          “Yeah, we might as well, I know you have had the same dreams as me and those I guess elves is what they use to be.” Zarath slowly sat up and scratched his chest as he thought about the creatures from this morning.

          “It’s pretty obvious that we are being hunted by whatever those things are, and I think it has to do with what happened with the wyvern.” He slowly stood up and moved over to his tent.

          “The sooner we get cured the better and the sooner we can put all this behind us.” Zarath stepped into his tent leaving the conversation at that, but he knew this wasn’t going to be that simple, nothing like this ever is and something inside him was already tearing away at his soul.

          As he slept the dreams returned as his eyes opened in the world of his dreams back in the dark empty void only this time, he was up to his waist in the black tarlike liquid that had been slowly consuming in every dream. The voice appeared again. Only this time in a faceless shadowy version of Zarath its blazing demonic red eyes staring at the sinking former of his.

          “You lied to your friend; how sad it is that he won’t know the reason he dies will be because of you.” The shadow moved like a floating snake as it now appeared in front of Zarath.

          “You who are the first mortal to survive consuming so much of my darkness, even I admit I am impressed that you haven’t turned yet.” The creature moved again vanishing in and out of the black void surrounding Zarath.

          “But even you felt it when hunting those small little rabbits, that hunger inside you. Why it reminds me of the ones I turned all those centuries ago.” Again, the shadow appeared in front of Zarath.

          “Is there a point to your endless and torturous voice in my head.” Zarath remained calm keeping his eyes closed and his breathing steady as he slowly sank deeper into the tarlike liquid around his waist.

          “Temper, temper even though your voice is calm even I could feel the heat behind those words little mortal.” The shadow laughed as it took its snake like form again spinning around and around Zarath.

          “The first mortal in over seven hundred years to be able to communicate and he doesn’t like me shame because we will be spending so much time together.” The shadow grabbed Zarath’s face, forcing the boy to look at it.

          “You pathetic mortals think the blight is just some dark curse of ancient times just like the fools who have hunted and slain my children for centuries but you.” The shadow moved its faceless form closer its eyes mere inches away from Zarath’s

          “You will become my greatest creation yet far better than the fools that lead my blighted armies now, you will be unlike any other so seek your cure I will be waiting for when you come to me.” With that final word the shadowy form disappeared and Zarath’s eyes snapped open the early morning sun bleeding through the flap door of his Kraan-thur. Just what is the blight and what is this creature that speaks to him in his dreams, all he knew was that he and Tharon could not reach Vrak’Thura and find this human in the town of Frontier fast enough.