Red Skies - Graff leaves home

Graff started walking, keeping a light-hearted countenance.  What better way to camouflage the intense sorrow and strong desire for revenge than with a smile and retinue of jokes?  He turned from what was left of his village and started down a path.  The mountain meadow had been a haven.  Sun and storm alike had been second nature to living here.  Now he headed down into the forest below.  It was a good hike but a familiar one.

Entering the coolness of the trees, he thought momentarily it felt good after being in the sun.  But there was no breeze here, just humid mists.  Starting to sweat and wishing for a stream or creek, he thought the itch was just him being a wimp.  Suddenly he realized that Thorn was moving around on him.  "Hey, stop it.  You are making my skin crawl.  Literally." 

Thorn replied somewhat sharper than he intended, "I'm restless, deal with it."

Frustrated, Graff picked up the pace.  He started looking purposefully for water.  Bathing would be a good excuse to shed the shirt and kicking Thorn off him.  Hearing, finally, tricking in the distance he broke into a jog.  The sound grew until they came to a river.

Not waiting for Graff to take off his shirt, Thorn leaped out through the front collar and landed paws first into the water.  Rising up, he grinned up at Graff with water dripping off his scales.  "Water's great, come on it."  

Grumbling, Graff soon joined him and washed away the irritation in the strong current.  "I guess we have really started our journey huh."

Thorn nodded, "Yes, and enough delay, let's get going again."  Without waiting for Graff to get out of the river, Thorn leaped back onto Graff.  The sudden weight hitting him and then disappearing was still a little unnerving but Graff shrugged it off.

Looking down at his chest, he watched Thorn arrange himself comfortably.  "At least I have an impressive tattoo if anyone asks."

Thorn groaned, "Just make sure I'm always in the same position or people will get suspicious."

Graff laughed, dressed, grabbed his pack and left the river's side.  They had a long way off the mountain still.  And longer still out of the range.  The only hint he had was hearing one the raiders gloating over the dead that they had plenty to blow in Valia, a mid-sized city that must surely be their next destination.  They must not like the idea of relaxing too close to where their victims lay slain.