The Plain Truth
We flew to the plains almost immediately after accepting our quest. It took most of the day. We did not speak as that was impossible. Just hours of flying with Fiola and Starg on either side of me, waves of anger flowing from Fiola meeting waves of serenity flowing off of Starg. How strange to experience both.
We arrived at the edge of the plains just before twilight.
Fiola was looking around, emotions flashing over her beautiful face as terrible memories came back. Her face was lit in the light and shadows of a day coming to a close.
"Well, Starg, where should we look?" I asked.
Starg was staring to the north. "There are a series of tunnels that the orcs had found. They might be in there if they are hiding. They are scattered over the northeastern part of these plains. Another possible location is in the forest in the north. They always seemed to like those trees. And then there are the mountains north of there. They often explored up in those regions."
Fiola then said, "Well, let us split up then. We can cover more ground that way."
"But Fiola," I replied, "we should stay together, work together. One of us alone may not be able to handle what we find."
"Mord, I can handle anything. Are you saying that you can't? Or are you saying that Starg is weak?"
"No, we just should, you know, be together."
"I don't want to. That's just dumb. You have done your job; you have gotten me here. Starg has done his--he pointed out places to check. I can do the rest. I don't need you."
And Fiola stormed off, just like that. She turned into a vapor, but it was the angriest vapor I had ever seen. Feral and furious, yet graceful and glorious. Ah, Fiola.
Shaking my head, "Well, Starg, I guess we could check out the tunnels. Starg?" I turned around and saw that he had also taken off in another direction.
So I guess I should go and look at something. Me thought that we was here to look around together, to become a proper party. I stood there pondering and decided to talk about it. So I did.
Oh, my neck tingles. I think evil surrounds me.
Looking around, I see nothing. Still, I should draw my sword and put this away. Wait, I smell something. No, no, not orc. Smells like, oh what is that? I haven't smelled it since--oh, goblins!
Mords of Wisdom: When hunting, you may become the hunted.