Devon

In the shadows, a figure dressed in black silently observed Danon's departure. The Visitor's appearance in the doorway of Lauriel's lodge had been a surprise and halted his approach. He watched the intruder leave and felt an unexplained sense of danger. As a hunter he knew when he was being threatened, and he knew how to deal with it. He started to follow his prey, but heard other footsteps approaching from behind. Muffled voices getting closer.

He did not trust this intruder. Why had he come? Where was he really from? And what was he doing in Lauriel's lodge? Surely this visitor would not dare to be his rival. Lauriel was his, or soon would be. Everyone knew that.

His instincts told him to do away with the white-skinned visitor with a single thrust of his dagger, but the stranger provided two kilo credits. And that payment was needed by his clan. It would feed a family for two weeks, longer if meat could be provided by the hunters. Yet, he still sensed a greater danger, a desire to change the old ways. A warrior preserved the old ways. A warrior protected the Clan. A warrior did what must be done, and this outsider was not to be trusted. Devon lowered the dagger into its sheath and faded away into the concealing darkness. He would choose another time.