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Blood pooled in his boots as he walked, the smell drawing each Raspan's attention.

"My prince, you are hurt."

Thatcher shook his head slightly, only briefly eying Mannat. "I will be fine," he bit out.

"Were you injured from the wards?"

Thatcher said and did nothing, his jaw grinding furiously as he tested the wards over and over again without thought or care or strategy. Mannat ambled up beside him and began to dig into the snow to build an above-ground nest. The other Raspans began to do the same.

Thatcher inhaled the icy cold before lifting his eyes to the deep grey sky.

"The storm's here," he whispered to himself as the first flakes of snow began to fall. The Lunar began to set up makeshift tents to shield themselves from the snow and the few Raspans followed suit.
After healing the worst of the spells' damage, Thatcher turned his attention back to the wards, his eyes always drifting back to the mouth of the cave.

"She will be back," Mannat vowed as he finished his nest made up of ice and snow to form an igloo-like structure, albeit much larger than average. He wrestled his way into the nest and curled up his body for warmth, his lids closing over his ruby red eyes.

Thatcher adjusted the furs at his shoulders and threw up a shield over his frame to protect himself from the elements. He could only hope that his brother was right.

+ + + +

"Someone is approaching, my prince."

Thatcher opened his eyes and looked up into the face of the Raspan scout, not seeing him. The scout waited patiently until the gold had faded from Thatcher's eyes before repeating the news. Thatcher stood up stiffly from his perch on a fallen tree to follow the young Raspan back to the cave, his eyes wandering over the forest as he walked. Something had changed in the past hour. For some reason, the smell of ginger still cloyed within his nose.

Mannat shrugged out of his cave to follow, his large head lifting slightly to smell the air, testing the new scent as he walked.

A large crowd had gathered around the edge of the wards, the bodies giving wide berth as both Mannat and Thatcher stepped through. Kynan and his men were standing beside their large, growling mounts looking more than a little disappointed.

Curious to the reason behind their behavior, Thatcher lengthened his stride until he was at the front of the pack. Instantly his heart sunk into his stomach at the sight in front of him.

It was but a lone Drul. His human fa__ade was delicate but radiated strength and power of someone who had been on the earth for a long while. He was the Drul responsible for the powerful wards that guarded this place.

Thatcher watched the Drul's eyes tighten at the sight of Mannat, but widen as Thatcher and the small Raspan scout came forward.

The Drul then approached slowly and carefully, his eyes glowing amber flecked with brown and dark red wine, like the colors of tree leaves in autumn. Thatcher felt the Drul's magic test his boundaries and with a slight smile, Thatcher responded in kind.

The Drul gasped as his human features were forced to give way to his Drul ones, revealing him for what he was. Drul's in general were made of earthen elements, like the Lunar. They reflected their source of power from these elements, making them wholly difficult to look at.

This Drul, however, was born of a human and a Drul. His human skin was the color of freshly tilled earth, his eyes the same as shedding leaves in fall. His hair was made of spider silk and ivy, the silk so bright it reflected the snow at their feet. His features were human, for the most part, though the plants that crawled over his skin and bloomed with springtime radiance gave away what he truly was.

The Drul in return stripped Thatcher of his human features, his eyes widening at what he saw.

"Abomination," he breathed, taking a step back.

"Thank you," Thatcher said dryly, easily dismissing the Drul's magic to return to his human form.

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