A lone figure trotted along a winding trail, a hefty travel pack upon her back, and a loose fitting cloak to ward off the cool forest air. Glimmering rays of the evening sun sifted through the leaves of the canopy, impressing upon the dirt an ever-shifting pattern of lights and shadows swaying to and fro. The motion was almost hypnotic, capturing her gaze as she plotted forward, her eyes losing focus as she fell into a steady rhythm, one foot after the other, intent upon reaching her destination. The woman, a striped Hyena by the name of Vivian, was traveling to the next town over, and with dusk approaching, she hoped she would be there soon. There were few landmarks in the forest, which made it difficult to judge the distance she had come so far. If she didn't make it to the edge of the woods before nightfall, she'd have to camp overnight. That could be a dangerous prospect in a world filled with demons.

Perhaps that thought should have aroused a greater sense of caution in her, for she was oblivious to the danger that lurked ahead. Shadows dashed about, and whispers drifted through the air ahead as malicious minds began to scheme. She was blind to the danger, her gaze still locked to the pretty patterns of light that danced across her feet.

And so the young hyena woman was taken by surprise when a hunched figure leapt from the bushes with a vicious snarl, barring her way. She stopped, her mind racing to catch up as she took in the form before her. The figure had the messy black fur of a wolf, and wore equally drab scraps for clothes. A feral, no doubt. Uncivilized folks living in the woods, and while they could sometimes be friendly, they were generally regarded to be under the influence of the demons. This one took a step forward, giving a vicious roar and raising his clawed hands, leaving no doubt as to his own disposition.

Momentarily stunned by his initial arrival, Vivian was spurred into action by his intimidating display, and she reached beneath her cloak for her dagger. Hand gripped tightly around it's hilt, it slid from her sheath with the satisfying shink, a signal to her foe that she was armed and dangerous. Before she could bring the weapon to bear, she felt a great force strike her from behind. A second feral had sneaked around behind her while the first drew her attention, and he now had her locked in a vice grip that pinned her arms to her side. The force of the impact caused her grip to loosen, and the dagger slipped from her hand to fall harmlessly to the ground. She struggled to break free of her opponents grasp, but this feral felt to be much larger and stronger than the first. She was trapped. Suddenly, a third and fourth leapt from the bushes, grabbing her arms and holding her down even tighter. She kicked, and tried to bite, but outnumbered as she was, she knew it was now hopeless.

“Help!" she screamed, changing tactic. There was little chance anyone would hear her cries this far out, but it was all she could do. Now overtaken by fear at what might happen to her, she broke into a panic, her voice cracking as she put all her strength into her plea to the gods. “Somebody help!" But even that small token of resistance was taken from her as a cloth rag was tied around her mouth, shortly followed by a bag over her head.

…

Her captors had been silent as they carried her to their camp. She knew very little, blinded as she was, and she had been able to glean little from the occasional growl and grunt that were all her feral foes seemed willing to grace her with. They didn't travel far though, setting her down only an hour later before tying her up against a tree. It was an uncomfortable position, her arms secured up over her head, leaving her vulnerable and exposed. But comfort was the least of her concerns.

She felt someone double checking her restraints, making sure the rope around her wrists and ankles held fast. The hyena silently sobbed as she felt her captor's presence before her, close enough to for his mangy fur to brush up against her. Then the sack over her head was swiftly removed in a single stroke. Looking about through the tears in her eyes, she could see she was in a clearing of sorts. In the center blazed a small campfire, bringing a small measure of warmth to pierce the cold night air that had now settled in around her. In a ring around the edge of the clearing were several small huts or shacks, semi-permanent dwellings that had clearly seen better days. And scattered throughout the ramshackle camp, all staring directly at her, were no less than a dozen ferals. She was in trouble for sure.

One feral, the black wolf from earlier, stood in the center and stepped forward. As he did, the others nearest Vivian stepped back, seeming to defer to their apparent leader. “You," he growled out, hatred spilling forth in the tone of his voice. “You trespass," he stated matter-of-factly. It wasn't a question.

“This is our land, and you intrude. You shall…" he was cut off by noise from the brush behind him, a distant yelp followed by sounds of a scuffle. Vivian's pointed ears swiveled forward in an effort to hear what had distracted him, but the forest had quickly fallen silent again. It seemed to have him concerned though, for rather than continuing his statement, he pointed to a few of the ferals to his side, then to the trees beyond, silently ordering them to investigate.

The appointed entourage grabbed a handful of weapons, among them some makeshift clubs, bows, and even a Tennin-forged sword, before disappearing into the treeline. The feral leader, satisfied that the matter would be settled, turned his attention back to her. “You shall pay for…" the black wolf attempted to continue his intimidating monologue. But he was again interrupted by the sounds of a second scuffle, this time much closer. Everyone turned to stare into the darkness, some stepping closer to their own weapons, as the sounds of a fight became undeniable.

There were thumps and thuds, and even the clash of metal on metal, before the camp was brilliantly illuminated by a massive wall of flame reaching into the sky, setting ablaze the trees just beyond the camp. Taken aback by the explosion, the entire camp flinched, a few even letting out cries of astonishment. But their leader quickly recovered his composure, gesturing for them to grab their weapons as he reached for his own. He ordered them into a defensive line, their prisoner already forgotten as they prepared to face whatever threat now came their way.

With the forest afire, it was difficult to make out was happening. But Vivian thought she could see a lone silhouette against the inferno, the shadow slowly resolving into a person as he casually strolled forward into the camp. He was no feral, that was certain. His fur, somehow unsinged from the roiling flames from which he emerged, was a deep, beautiful purple, and unlike her feral captors, he was fully clad in an elegant battle dress, complete with a set of metal gauntlets emblazoned with glowing, magical runes. Those very gauntlets were now clenched into fists by his sides as he strode into the camp. This man meant business.

The feral leader raised a sword, angling the sharp blade towards the approaching interloper. “Stop!" he cried, but the mysterious stranger's stride was unbroken. “I said stop!" he tried again. When the fiery figure continued unabated, he signaled his pack to advance. With a battle cry, they charged forward, weapons raised, ready to strike.

Before they could reach him, the stranger raised both gauntleted arms, palms open to face his foes. The glowing runes of his armor grew even brighter, as swirling flames materialized within his open hands. A magical fireball shot out from each, blasting the two nearest ferals and knocking them to the ground, smoke rising from a scar in their chest. Whether they were dead or simply unconscious, Vivian didn't know. But they were out of the fight for good.

The line of advancing ferals faltered for a moment, until they surged forward again at the sight of their fallen comrades, now fueled by rage and hate. The first to reach the intruder swung savagely with a heavy club, only to be swiftly side-stepped by the purple-furred fire mage. Using his enemies momentum against him, he grabbed the club-wielder by the collar as he stumbled past, swinging him around, just to launch him back into the camp. The poor sod was thrown against one of his companions, both of them tumbling to the floor in a heap.

Two more charged at the warrior, fangs bared and knives drawn. One leapt forward with a stab, missing by only an inch as the he dodged at the last second. The other circled around to the side, hoping to catch the interloper off guard as he sparred with his partner. But as he dodged the first feral, he anticipated the second, meeting him with a gauntleted fist to the face. So powerful was the blow, the feral went down in a single strike, slumping to the ground with an audible thud. The warrior quickly pivoted to meet a follow-up strike from the knife, deftly blocking the thrust with a parry. The knife wielding feral gave a panicked cry as his opponent's grip clamped down on his wrist, locking him in place. He tried to pull away, and the fire mage followed through to deftly sweep behind him, bringing his arm back and up behind his back. There was a loud, bone-crunching snap as the feral dropped his knife, a anguished scream escaping his throat. Then he was promptly shoved against a tree, where he fell to the ground, out of the fight.

The black wolf watched as his subordinates were downed one by one. Sensing he had no choice but to intervene, he stepped forward, a deep battle cry roaring from his throat. He charged, sword raised overhead, intending to bring it down in a finishing strike. The mysterious warrior met the charge head on, blocking the blow directly with his armored gauntlets. The two stood face to face for a moment, exchanging growls and glares as they vied against each other in a contest of strength. Finally, the warrior overpowered the wolf, throwing his sword aside. Before the feral could react, another coil of flame was already charging, and the pack leader was blasted back with a deafening roar. His body, now charred black with soot, landed limp and lifeless in the center of the camp.

Only a few ferals still remained, and seeing the destructive power of their opponent, they quickly turned tail and fled, weapons clattering to the ground. Vivian quaked in her boots as she witnessed the awesome sight, a feeling that quickly turned to dread as the warrior's burning gaze settled upon her.

But seeing her vulnerable form, still tied up and helpless, the fury in his eyes lightened, and the glow of his magical gauntlets faded. “Are you okay?" he asked.

Vivian was taken aback by his question, not really hearing him at first. She was still overcome with fear, her mind processing what had just happened. “Are you okay?" he repeated. “Did they hurt you?"

Her thoughts finally catching up, she met the gaze of the mysterious stranger who had very likely just saved her life. “I… yes… I mean… no… I…" she fumbled with her words, struggling to find the correct answer as she took in his form. Now that she had a moment of safety, she realized just how attractive he was. In addition to his beautiful purple fur, the stranger's physique was well-toned and fit, a fact that didn't escape her attention even through his garments. The tight fitting top he wore did little to hide the rippling muscle beneath, no doubt a necessity to maintain his agility in combat, and it's rich burgundy color complimented his fur rather nicely. In stark contrast to the glowing red motif of the runes in his armor, his eyes were a brilliant green, inciting in her an apparent coolness that seemed to captivate her.

“It's okay," he said. “I don't think they'll be a threat to you any longer." He gestured to the various bodies strewn about the camp. The purple-furred man took a step closer to her, but at this point, she didn't feel threatened, despite the carnage.

“How did… how did you find me?" she wondered aloud.

“I was on patrol, hunting down reports of rogue ferals, when I heard a scream," he answered. “Naturally, I came to investigate." As he approached her, he pulled a knife from his belt to cut away at her restraints. The maneuver brought him close to her body as he reached up, and her heart fluttered as she felt his presence surround her. It lasted but a moment before he pulled away, stepping back so he could cut the rest of her bindings.

“Thank you," she said. Her cry for help had been a long shot, but she was fortunate that it had paid off. If he hadn't been nearby, she didn't know what she would have done, or what would have become of her. When she was finally free, she took a step forward. But her body was exhausted from adrenaline, and the terrible ordeal she had just been through was taking its toll. She stumbled forward, nearly falling flat on her face. She was stopped only by an arm that shot out to catch her.

She suddenly found herself caught in his embrace as he pulled her back up. She felt light headed and breathless, no doubt a consequence of the whole ordeal. “You're tired," he commented, and when she didn't respond, he reached down to sweep her off her feet. Instinctively, she grasped out for a handhold, her paws clasping around behind his neck to hold herself steady. The stranger lifted her into a princess carry, and she now found herself cradled up against his chest, the strong warrior carrying her effortlessly out of the camp.

“I… thank you," she said again, hoping she didn't sound like a broken record. She was flustered, unsure what to say. Pressed up against his chest, she could feel the rhythmic thump of his heartbeat as he walked. It was steady and strong, like that of a draft horse. Quite unlike her own, which continued to flutter in her chest like a wild butterfly. “Who are you?" she finally thought to ask.

“I'm Bernin," he answered simply. “I work with the Tennin Guard." That explained his armor and magic, and why he was on patrol in the first place.

“Vivian," the hyena introduced herself. “You saved my life," she stated matter-of-factly, blinking up at him as she did.

“It would seem so," he said with an air of casualness, implying it was an everyday occurrence for him. “You're quite lucky we were in the area. You shouldn't be out here by yourself, with the war going on."

“Yes, it's a good thing there was a big strong man around to come to my rescue," she said with a grin. Without thinking, she leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. It seemed to take him by surprise, for he paused his forward movement to consider what had just happened. “I suppose I owe you a reward," she whispered sensually, batting her eyelashes once again.

Recovering his composure, he resumed his march back to base, focusing his eyes forward along the trail for danger. Though Vivian didn't miss the slight blush that now graced his chiseled face.

“There's no need for that," he said. “It's just part of the job."

Vivian swooned over his modest chivalry. “So virtuous," she said, a twinkle in her golden eyes. Then she threw all caution to the wind, leaning forward once again to kiss him directly on the lips. Bernin halted in his tracks once more, his eyes widening in surprise. But the crafty hyena didn't let up, holding herself against him until he gave. And give he did, as he finally relented and kissed her back. Tongues now intertwined, the kiss quickly became a passionate affair, as their hands began to wander over-

…

“We did not kiss!" Bernin shouted across the campfire, making sure everyone could hear his claim. The entire patrol had gathered round for some food and socialization, and it had become something of a tradition each night for a member of the party to tell an entertaining story. Tonight was Vivian's turn.

“Did too!" the striped hyena shouted back. “Don't interrupt my story!" She stuck out her tongue from her seat next to him, a position which Bernin had only reluctantly bequeathed to her.

“And there was at least fourteen of those ferals, not twelve," he said, strategically trying to change the subject and save face.

Another voice spoke up from the gathered circle. “Ya, but I killed at least four of 'em. Where was I in that story?" asked Callum, a brown wolf who was also part of the patrol.

“You were off to the side somewhere," Vivian said, crossing her arms, clearly upset at the interruption to her fantasy. “It wasn't important to the story."

“Not important?! I thought the story was about our assault on the feral camp!"

Another voice spoke up, derailing the evening's story yet again. “Why did you tell it like you were meeting for the first time?" asked Hillel, the domestic dog of the group. “You two seem well acquainted enough already to me." His eyes narrowed in suspicion, always suspecting the hyena was up to something, but never able to prove it.

“Ugh, really?" Vivian said in frustration. She heard a mischievous giggle and glared in the direction of a gray fox named Sil, the party's Reader, who quickly looked away, trying not to meet the hyena's gaze.

The flames of the fire crackled and split as they began to die out, a few embers leaping into the air before it gave it's final breath. Before it could fade completely, a gray wolf by the name of Cormac, the leader of the patrol unit, threw another branch into the flame. “Right," he began. “It's getting late, and the fire's almost out. Time we head to bed. Bernin, you have the first watch."

Bernin nodded, and there was a slight grumbling from the group as they all stood and tidied the camp in preparation for the night. They would need the rest, as many more adventures, and potentially many more embellished campfire stories, awaited them in the morning.