Elegy

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He knew that he was being followed.

The pale moon hung heavily in the sky as the night wore on, casting everything in long grey shadows. Winter had come to the outlands; no snow yet lay on the ground, but the leaves had all fallen from the trees, and the ground was cracked from the freezing temperatures that crept across the land at night. There was no color on a night like this, no colors on the trees with the leaves fallen, and all else washed away in the light of the Deadmoon.

Mist formed from each breath before him as the great destrier beneath him plodded onward towards their destination. The horse seemed nervous, and his horse was rarely ever nervous. The city of Calessa still lay at least a league away, and they were already in danger.

It seemed that he was always in danger.

"Come, Tyral." He urged the horse onward in a low tone, and despite the cold, the great beast managed to pick up its pace.

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