Special Delivery

The task his father had laid for him was fairly simple-- take the dagger to Ethne. It seemed like a simple task, even if it was one that appeared to require a babysitter. The yearling was a bit indignant over that one, but he supposed he didn't actually know the way to the pack that called the Falls and the Creek home. The Warlord said to take his pick for guide, and he'd gone with Mortis as the solid option. Sure, he'd probably want to talk or something on the way, but casual conversation with his older brother was a small price to pay. Something told him that Mort would probably turn a blind eye if he wanted to slip off to visit a certain beach with a certain girl on it, on the way home.

First things first. Right, he needed to go visit Bellamy. The dagger had been packaged carefully, and Dread was just as careful in his handling of it. His posture reads clear: alert, friendly, professional. It's the yearling's first actual assignment, and he wasn't going to screw it up. Once the border to the Falls was clear enough, Mort allowed Dread to approach on his own. At the boundary he tipped his regal head back, calling out for Bellamy. Not an urgent call, but businesslike, fringing on friendly. He could handle this.

"Dread Fatalis"