Welcome to Gaia! ::

Raemos stood up from inspecting the Kugel's body. They kept some Kugel on the ranch to raise as mounts, a smaller herd separate from their other herd. Normally, the kugel did fine on their own, only needing to be checked up on occasionally to keep them healthy and to renew their training.

The morning light revealed, however, that there was trouble brewing for the resident kugels. One was dead, it's body already purpling and bloated though it had not yet been exposed to the harsh desert sun. Four were injured and unusually quiet, nursing hurt paws and tails that had suspiciously nasty, though small, wounds.

”What do you think, kid? What did it?” asked Argos, curious. He knew nothing about the ranching life, but he was pretty sure that animals weren't supposed to drop dead and bloat up like that.

Raemos shrugged. ”Poison, I think. And a fight.” he looked around, frowning. There was no sign of any creature, no tracks or spoor left behind – only the large and out-of-place pillar of rock that marked this edge of their land.

”What's that, anyway?” said Argos, pointing at the spire. It was large and oddly tilted.

Raemos looked at it. ”Its the Pillar. It marks the edge of our land in this direction.” he shaded his eyeless gaze, ”Mother says that it is the last struggle of a mighty Gaili dragon that she and Father fought when they were claiming the land.” he smiled softly as he remembered the story. He didn't mention that Vona had told him that it was all sheronshit, that whatever had happened with a gaili and their magic had happened long before her parents had gotten there. Then again, she had only been a baby when the ranch had been started – maybe a dragon was involved. ”It is a great source of shade in the noontime. We keep some of our water and food stores in a little hollow at the base...” he said, gesturing to his uncle to follow. It hadn't been Raemos's idea – his mother had the best ideas - but Raemos had been the one to set up the little spare shelter. The strange tilt of the rock left a sheltered little hollow. Not much at first, but Raemos had stocked it with food and pots of water. The constant shade kept the desert from drinking it all away, and it had been invaluable to his father when he was out during sandstorm season.

They were approaching when Argos stopped him suddenly. ”Hang on.” said the older man, drawing his sword, ”Listen.”

Raemos, always obedient, did as he was told. In the quiet desolation of the desert and among the now distant grunts of the kugels, he could hear a strange sound, somewhere between a snore and a squawk.

”I think I know what killed your beastie there.” said Argos. They moved closer, enough to see the sheltered, shaded storeage area at the base. He pointed. ”Lirkept.”

Raemos's carefully laid out storage area was now a huge mess. Food lay on the ground, sandy and rotting and half eaten by the dark creatures that nestled under the rock, croaking to each other in a half-sleep. One of the water urns had been broken into, its contents half-gone already. Raemos looked at it in horror. He hated messes.

He knew he had to do something, and that something would involve getting rid of them. He drew his sword and approached, creeping up on the nest. The sand muffled his steps as he tensed, raising his sword to the guard position before charging in, slashing viciously. One fell to his initial attack, its partner, roused, clamoured in alarm before they lashed out at him. He missed being bitten by their poisoned bite, and took up another stance. It charged at him, and he finished it off with a swift strike. It fell to the sand, its fangs no longer a threat to the kugel.