LOREN
Just before Loren was about to place the Rose carefully in the ground, a flash of movement and light caught his eye. Immediately, he stood and whirled to face whatever it was that had distracted him from his task. When he finally spotted it, his heart sank: it was an unfamiliar woman with fiery red hair, bow drawn, with a nocked arrow that was as flaming as her locks. And she was pointing it right at the herd. This was really, really bad.Frantically, the Launceleyn waved his hands, Rose still held carefully in one. ”Hey! Lady! Don't shoot! These are luxere, not deer!” That was literally the only reason he could think of for why she might be hunting the herd; while the summoner could understand the appeal of fresh meat during Deepfrost, these particular wonderful creatures were off-limits. After all, if someone from the Hollowed Grounds killed a luxere, Loren didn’t know exactly what would happen, but he knew it would be bad.
He broke into a run, the herd parting before him, all thoughts of planting his Rose forgotten. Astra bounded at his heels, her small legs nevertheless able to keep up with his charge. All he thought about was how he might stop her from loosing that arrow, and so he ran through all the creatures at his disposal; any number of them might suffice, but if he had to subdue the woman afterwards, he needed to pick something that could do that without being too lethal. After all, there was still a possibility that this all might be a misunderstanding.
A beggar's book
outworths
a noble's blood
