WILLOW, ANALA AND Percival trudged up the steep and muddy hillside, distancing themselves further from the second Sicarius gate.
As if something had split in the upper sky, rain came down fiercely on them. Percival’s robes dragged him down and tripped him, but he remained silent as they travelled on. Only Anala complained, pulling her cloak over her head like a veil and begging her uncle for permission to Shift into a creature more adapted. Her uncle refused, mumbling each time with more provocation of the strict bans in the Outlawed East. It was difficult to believe given how barren the land was, only making it more frightening that somebody was watching them.
When her uncle wasn't looking, Anala discreetly Shifted, her eyes sparkling with magick and mischief each time. First a duck that span in the puddles obstructing their path, then a fox that rang rings around Willow's legs, and finally into a frog indiscernible amongst the mud, hopping high and splattering him playfully. He didn't smile, he was consumed by emotions of confusion rushing through his head, at the verge between terror and anger. He forced himself to keep walking, clutching his shard of flint until blood pressed against his palm, the smallest curiosity spurring him on and stopping him from looking completely disinterested in Anala's Shifting.