Well, fuck. Azier had been wrong.
There was no town.
There were no buildings or cities. All that awaited him and Clay was a small village of dirty, hairy humans who had homes made of tanned hide and sticks. In the center of the circle of huts was a small fire that crackled lightly.
All of the cone-shaped homes were closed with a heavy sheet of hide, and the sounds of nature held a symphony over their snoozes. Even if he wasn't concerned with them - he still needed something to eat. So, instead of being a stalker in the night, he instead turned his attention to the livestock nearby.
They had been tethered to the trees with rough, poorly made vines that had been braided by hand. It would be so easy for him to just snap it right off - but he wanted to try to grab one of the larger goats that had laid down and nodded off. He had to make sure to be swift, or he would wake the entire little commune, and he didn't want or need that today.
