Once night fell, the swarm began our journey. As one, we began moving forward. Ytte had been complaining to me about how I had forgotten to call her once we’d seen Drolick in his plate armor, and I somewhat understood her frustration. She was lugging around a massive mound of stone that supposedly had great value, and we’d been in direct contact with someone who appeared to know at least something about the metallurgical pursuits. Thus, I’d promised her that, if the opportunity arose, I’d ensure we got another’s eyes to see the stone.

Once Ytte had finished her tirade, Sybil approached me, a somewhat understanding look on her face.

“That face means you’ve been thinking. Tell me about it.”

A nod of acquiescence. “Most… ‘people’... are loathe to label us people.”

“And?”

“All ‘people’ we’ve met thus far have had one thing in common: clothing. What exactly is the purpose of clothing?”

Ah… I paused for a moment. “Well, its purpose is twofold. The first as a functional covering that protects the wearer, such as the armor that Drolick was wearing today. That protects him from attack, as metal is generally stronger and harder to pierce than flesh.” An understanding nod. “The second is to do with the idea of modesty, I suppose. Creatures who wear clothing use it to cover their genitals as a matter of modesty, since having your genitals seen when not explicitly being used for copulation is embarrassing or shameful to those with a sense of modesty.”

Sybil’s head slowly cocked to the side. “This sense of modesty seems stupidly inefficient. I understand the protective measures, but who cares if your reproductive organs are seen any more than a different part of your body? It’s just a body?”

“Regardless, it is a sense that is shared universally among so-called ‘civilized’ races. The Moonchildren, Sunkindred, Veushten, and any others will almost certainly share this sense of shame.”

Sybil thought for a moment. “By their own logic, we should be far more civilized than they, just by birth.”

“Why is that?”

“We’re born with protective coverings, our scales, which also provide us with a sense of modesty, since we have our genital folds that protect our reproductive organs. So, we are inherently and efficiently garbed after their own manner.”

I couldn’t hold back the chuckles at her wholly logical response, since I couldn’t find any real grounds to argue with her on. “I suppose you’re right, but they probably wouldn’t care.”

Sybil sighed, then began turning away, losing herself in thought. “Then I guess we need to begin clothing construction… would skins be better…?” I laughed at the quiet mumblings of my mate, lovingly tapped her tail with my own, and turned to supervise the continued passage of the swarm.

As per my command, the swarm was moving as unobtrusively as we could muster, and were also making good time. I looked around, taking stock of the moving bodies, and was happy to see that there weren’t any stragglers or distracted members of the swarm slowing down our general progress.

With the nipping winds of autumn beginning their blowing, I was sure that we would have more than enough night to make our passage unobtrusively, but I wanted to make our campsite at least a couple hours’ worth of travel past the city itself by the time the sun rose, so I went to begin pushing the swarm to greater speeds once we had passed the city itself. The landscape opened up more and more as we pushed past the cramped Sheer Pass, and, while we couldn’t see that far in the dark, there was an imperceptible feeling of opening and freedom as we began to leave the constrained valley between the two mountain ranges. The plains began to open before us, the grasses growing tall, taller than the average keelish, and the plains before us spread, apparently endless and fertile.

It was as the swarm began to feel complacent that a chorus of chuffing, snarling growls began to sound from in front of the main body of keelish. I called out, “Easy! Stay together, stay alert, stay ready!” Just after that, the growls coalesced into one cry, and four figures rushed out of the grasses at the keelish in the front.

Immediately, the figures began lashing out with hand and jaw, and keelish bodies began to fall in their advance. It was strange, though. Were they not aware that now that they no longer had surprised us, we would be able to rally and pursue?

“They seem intelligent! Try to subdue instead of slay, if possible! Vefir, Second, you’re on triage, so stay close but hang back!” After my barked orders, I sprinted towards the scene of the battle. On three of the four scenes, the attacker had already been subdued, buried under slashing claws, fangs, and halberds. In snarling tones, they communicated with each other, looking confusedly between each other. I ran to the final, still struggling individual.

It was a thickly furred beast with two legs and arms, like a keelish if they had no tail and thick fur instead of scales. It looked furiously from side to side and swiped threateningly with its paws as the keelish tried to hold it at bay with their polearms. They were mostly unsuccessful, with the crazed beast accurately seizing openings and rushing to where it could wreak the most havok and damage. Fortunately, the keelish banding together kept their fellows from being slaughtered, and were instead sustaining heavy injuries. As I approached, the defenders spread and gave me an opening to approach.

“Tell me. How stupid do you have to be to lead four individuals against a body of several hundred?”

The beast turned to me, eyes rolling in a fury. “We are your ancient predator, the Misti Hawar! You should flee before our cries and be cut down like wheat before the scythe!”

“Answer: pretty damn stupid, apparently.”

The male-voiced beast was particularly enraged by my response, but I wasn’t feeling inclined to charitable thinking either, so I began to approach while he spoke more. “You pest! You were supposed to flee and smash stupidly against the walls of Shandr, then be eliminated by the guard!”

I didn’t respond as I engaged in battle with the foreign Misti Hawar. Stupid he may be, but a great fighter too. He was quick, even quicker than me. He had a good battle sense as well, the glowing spots under [Combatant’s Bloodlust] only appearing for brief moments, and he was a whirling tornado of raging assault. Unfortunately for him, Wisterl was a faster, crazier fighter than he could hope to be, and when one of his sweeping strikes went wide, I pressed the attack and, with a decisive blow, lopped his hand off at the wrist.

“Dulvroc take you, you vermin! Accursed, blight created filth! I’ll kill you!” Angrier than before, the boy rushed back in, and, before long, with a snick of my jaws, his other hand was liberated from his body.

“I don’t care who you are. You’re an idiot. Obviously, you know Shandr, and I told Drolick that violence would be repaid in blood. I guess we’ll need to speak with him before the night is through.”