Descended

Eagles flew overhead.

Lots-

And lots of eagles.

They hunted smaller birds-

'Survival of the fittest…' Flint chuckled to himself.

Through the grass- through the dew- on a slightly upward curve- up this small mountain.

"What?" Said the woman next to him- Erweine-

A black robe with a cloak, a staff in her hand; ready.

"Just remembered a phrase from my father…"

Dead leaves, rotted wood beneath their feet; and that wonderful pungent smell….

"Speaking of who-" The man next to him- Arack Verman grumbled. "What's the name of your father again?"

A suit- a white suit and nothing else. Surprisingly it had no mark, no stain, even in this place.

"Edil Maysheather-" Flint said. He wore his purple armor and had his black sword along with his trusted second sword.

The three- trudged through the great forest of Ur, just next to the city.

Their destination- the other side of the forest and the top of the mountain.