Fetch! Yes, Warlord!

The pale son of Halo and Mortis got a bad feeling as he watched Basilisk take his tiny slave Ignita and a cart pulled by a companion past his den toward the redwoods.

Ollie had just sewed his giant cousin up, he was not going to let those stitches tear on his watch. Might as well track them down and help out even though he already mentioned someone else should probably do it.

He ducked back into his den and grabbed a knife to help them skin the beast. Took a few tries to find a good one that wasn't a tiny surgical instrument or herbal boline.

They were out of sight by the time he was ready to join them and he saved his energy in catching up to them by taking his time. The cart tracks and the injured warlord steps next to the mostly healed slave tracks were easy to pick out over the pine needles.

As he approached the sounds he heard were not of two wolves gathering a pelt by themselves but of a large creature approaching them. On alert, he slunk to his belly and started to sneak up on the party on the far side.

The bear was none too pleased to find one of its brethren carved into and broke from the trees to charge at the Warlord and his slave.

Oleander took to the ground and like a white bolt of lightning he leaped to strike the bear on the side of its head with his cat-like claws, staggering it in surprise. He jumped back to stand alongside Bas, more fresh and ready than the injured warlord.