If they think they can slay me, then they’re prepared well enough to kill dragons.

"Is that meant to be there?" Ares asked. Their tribe had left after a rather brief goodbye with the other horns, a few other stragglers joining them. Ares had shifted away most of the items into his ring so they could move swiftly over land, and by the time evening had come, they were about to settle down when they saw it in the distance. A light had emerged in the distance, a beam that touched the tip of the mountain the distance, and then off into the heavens above.

"I don't believe so." Rori replied, but an older oxfolk woman appeared as if emerging from the shadows. She was short, surprisingly so, though Ares didn't recall seeing her. She was hunched over and clutched at a cane. She was donned within heavy furs that were layered like a stack of pancakes. Her hair was long with what seemed to be hundreds of beads that weighed it down, long strands falling in front of her shoulders. No wonder she was always hunched.