Further up the caravan, away from the stink and the noise of the herd beasts, a traveller rode a long legged creature, its hooves shod in fresh iron and its fangs sharpened to razor points though it was hard to see them through the muzzle fixed over its long slender snout. Its eyes gleamed, lively and wicked, and the herbivores who drew the carts snorted and huffed anxiously was it prowled passed.<br/><br/>The man astride it had forge-fire hair, tied at the nape with a band of black leather. His eyes were dark blue, and as keen and aggressive as his mount’s, and his clothing was fitted leather. He was an elf, his pointed ears clear to see, pierced all up their rim with gold loops that caught the light, several sapphires caught within them. The long lance strapped to his mount’s side and the slender, curved sword on his hip – and the beast he rode – told all he was a warrior.<br/>