home inspection

Her meeting with Tyrian had - for lack of a better word - gone poorly. Aryn had tried everything short of begging to convince the man to leave the poor goats be and still he was unconvinced. She'd gone home disappointed and unable to find sleep, picturing only the poor goat's head upon a stake and how terrifying that environment must be for the critters beneath Tyrian's iron paw. While she was not the bravest nor the strongest of the Lirim wolves, Aryn knew she couldn't just forget about the encounter. Somebody had to do something, and without many prey-sympathizers in her small circle of acquaintances the job was left to her alone.

It did not take her long to find Tyrian's home, she'd passed by it multiple times on the way to the Soulless Forest. It was a good thing too, because Aryn did not have enough faith in her tracking skills to find the stale scent and follow it had his home been further away. Coming up upon the Knolls was one of the most stressful experiences of her life and the yearling's paws trembled as they carried her further.

Her bravery waned with every step she took, eventually running dry just before she could cross the border. Aryn swallowed hard, peering cautiously across the knolls to see if anyone was on their way to maim or murder her for daring to be so close. She'd been preparing to turn and leave when the scent of the livestock reached her, their forms barely visible in the distance as they grazed.

"Psssst." Aryn whispered into the grass. Failing to catch their attention, she clicked her tongue to them and then ducked when she realized how loud the sound was in comparison. Were there babies out there? Could she lure one to her and take it to safety? The stress of the mission was killing her, though she continued to click and cluck and whisper to try and call to her a poor helpless goat.