[ Near Bloodfang territories]
Rory was on his way back, something clutched under his cloak, his face a little dusty, hair absolutely unkempt.
He didn't actually think he would survive but he did. Praise the Moon.
The wind howled behind Rory. He rode faster and faster.
His horse thundered across the rough terrain, hooves hammering into the ground with reckless urgency. Dust clouds kicked up in their wake, spiraling into the air before settling into silence again.
Rory's mind was singularly focused.However his horse looked worn out. He urged the beast faster, even though he knew it had been running for days at a stretch… nonstop.
"Come on, just a bit more… we are almost there," he muttered, his voice lost in the wind.
The flags of the Bloodfang territories finally came into view, dancing wildly against the afternoon sky.
