The lower slopes of Fyhi tel Oren were somewhat treacherous after the storm, but the uneven scree caused little difficulty for the tall stallion currently moving down toward the lands below. He, and his grey-coated companion, were on the look out for a fat-stemmed kind of plant which was helpful for headaches. There had been a good amount of it in his herb patch until the day before, when some foolish colt had pulled it all up ‘looking for treasure’. Said colt had, of course, received a thorough kicking for his insolence and stupidity but that had not brought the ruined plants back, hence the skinny Jala’s current mission.
“Well, at least it’s a nice day for it,” Dahak commented to the stallion at his side, “if last night’s storm had come today instead I would not have been a happy Shaman.” The colt would probably have heard from him again too; it wasn’t as though he couldn’t repair whatever damage he did to the brat after all.
