"Good girl!"
      Knax wiggled in delight as Altan reached up and passed his fingers lovingly through her fiery mane and thick, black fur. Dropping the red-stained carcass of a white stag from her maw, she lapped her sloppy tongue up the length of his face, and Altan laughed, shouting protests and half-heartedly fending her off with his arms.
        "Hey, that meat won't cook itself!" Bridget called from where they were tending the flames of a fire, bare roasting sticks picketed around its perimeter. The firelight light up their features in a warm glow, and they beckoned Altan over with a grin.
         "Im coming, I'm coming." Altan replied as he reluctantly detached himself from Knax with a final pat-pat on her head. He bent down and grasped the stag's antlers, huffing with effort. "Go on, Knax, go get another one. We'll eat good again, tonight."
         Knax barked her acknowledgement, blue flames trailing through the evening sky as she pivoted sharply, and the flames diminished. Altan watched her large silky black figure bound back into the thick forest, and when she was out of sight, began dragging the heavy mammal towards the campfire.
        It was now night eight since they'd left Guthram, and life felt good. The best since he'd got here, in fact. The Prince had gradually warmed up to Bridget's presence, and they seemed to have a knack for deescalating the increasingly infrequent squabbles between himself and The Prince. Knax provided companionship where they could not. Now the size of a large horse, her growth spurt had finally slowed, and at this point Altan suspected she was probably fully grown, or at least, very close to. Every night, he slept curled against her naturally warm body, using one tail as a pillow and the other as a blanket. In the frosty mornings, her brilliant flames warmed him. Throughout the days, she would hunt, bringing game of various sizes back to them unfailingly, and between their rations and her prey he had not felt the claws of hunger in weeks. Yeah, life was good.
At that point, The Prince returned carrying an armload of various berries, mushroom, and flora for Bridget to roast along side freshly butchered meat.
Altan was in a good mood. Good-naturedly, he nodded at the round-capped fungi and said "I'm not going to see rainbows and grow two heads if I eat these, right?"
       The Prince chuckled, "No, these are safe to consume. You have my word." With a silly little bow, he placed the foraged goods in a tidy pile beside Bridget. Then he straightened, stretched, rolled his head, and unsheathed his sword. "Bridget."
They didn't look up from their work, methodically cutting away skin and fat from the stag. "Yes, love?"
"Please call us when it is time to eat. Altan-"
"Yeah, yeah," Altan cut in, unhurriedly picking up his brand-new longsword from Guthram, "training time. I got it."
The Prince nodded, "Indeed. Come, let us leave Bridget to their work. There is a clearing with more room just I've this way." He explained, leading Altan aside. As they entered the new space, illuminated by the bright moon above, The Prince stopped and faced Altan. "Adopt the window guard, good. Tonight, I am going to teach you a new maneuver, one that can be used to easily disarm a similarly fitted opponent. An advance of my own design, I coin it 'exmare'. It is done by, first,-"
A scream.
With but a glance between them, Altan and The Prince spun and dashed back towards the campfire, swords flashing. Moments later they were crashing back through the brush, exploding out into the campsite. The stag lay only half-butchered, a white and red mess, it's entrails strewn across the ground. Bridget lay beside it, unconscious, convulsing, firelight illuminating small beads of sweat forming on their brow. A long, black, needle-like feather protruded from the side of their neck.
The Prince cursed. "Dreamstalker." He murmured a spell and extended one hand towards the fire, causing the orange flames to flare up in a white-hot geyser, twisting into a suspended ball. His eyes snapped towards a large tree and he flung his hand, the sphere of flame rocketing towards the forest just as a creature the size of a large lynx launched itself from the brush. Altan caught only a glimpse of the spindly creature; a long ferret-like body, mottled gray and black fur, two thin feathered wings and a long, feather-tipped tail, before the fire impacted it midair. The creature let out a decidedly feline yowl as it crashed to the ground in a smouldering heap. Several thin feathers that had been mid-flight burnt to ash in the air. One, however, managed to be missed by the inferno, and continued its flight towards The Prince, trailing smoke.
The Prince slashed the projectile from the air with a flash of his sword.
As he did, there was sharp fwip from behind, and a feather found purchase in The Prince's upper arm. He snarled in pain, dropping his sword and ripping the barbed feather quickly from his flesh. Too late. Within seconds he swooned, and collapsed. Acting purely on instinct, Altan ducked under the inevitable barrage of feathers that whizzed inches from his torso. He tried to pivot but tripped over his own feet and landed unceremoniously on his butt as a black furry mass impacted him. Some humiliating babble of fear pushed past Altans lips as a cat-like face with a jagged maw and four black, beady eyes hissed and snapped at his throat. He screamed in agony trying desperately to push off the creature as razor sharp claws raked his chest and stomach, hooking into flesh and muscle. With horror he watched it's long tail snake into the air, the end of it adorned in arrow-like feathers, tipped red.
       Gripping his sword, Altan slashed blindly upwards at the writhing creature. Missed. He swung again, catching its hindquarters. With a furious growl, the creature reared back, beating its wings forcefully against him. The wings that battered him too had razor edged feathers. Feathers cut into his face, his chest, his arms, injecting searing pain into his skin. Feebly, he tried and failed to raise his sword again. More cuts. If he could only hang on, if he could only stay awake for just a few more seconds...
      A fierce snarl shredded the curtains of unconsciousness for but a moment, and through the sheet of darkness creeping over his vision Altan saw a furious blaze of blue consume his field of view. He felt heat. He felt a weight lifted. And then he felt nothing.