Malta hid at the first non-forest noise, peering out of a shadowy bush. It was daylight, and many of the scarier predators of Soldul, her cousins included, were asleep. That was not what she feared.
There was a road nearby, a swatch of cobbles that cut through the wild, dark plants like a wound, and on it tramped, too close for comfort. They were Oblivionites, that much Malta could tell just from listening. What other two-legged Magescans would walk here, in the heart of the dark land?
It didn't matter much to Malta which they were, only that they scared her, and that she wanted to run. But something - Orakoi-like curiousity, perhaps - kept her there, hidden, and afraid.
She watched with glowing eyes as the travellers came around the bend, shrinking back into the shrub, her dark colors and her magic hiding her from view.
They walked, bow backed, carrying packs, their wings and tails - those that had them - folded and lowered, their eyeless faces focused only on the path ahead. Their packs made Malta think of the gear of her bother and sister, and the wagons that trailed behind them, pulled by Hastar, confirmed it. They were traders.
Malta knew that Magescan traders existed - obviously, as they were who her brothers traded with. But she had never seen them so close before, and had never really thought about what they looked like. Despite their alien appearance and the power that they surely had, the small caravan looked, almost, normal. She relaxed a bit as they passed by her, only a few feet away, and could almost imagine Maike and Sorai among them, dealing and trading with them. She missed them so much.
Soon, they were past, the regular trodding of their strange, shod feet and the hastars claws and the beat of their wagon's wheels soon faded into the leaf-shaded forest path beyond. She watched them go, glad to not have been seen, but sad - almost - to see them go. She wished she was as brave as Maike and as suave as Sorai. If the magescans were traders, maybe talking to them would make her miss her siblings less.
But no, they were magescans, to be fought or hid from, dangerous and magical. She emerged from her bush and resumed searching for herbs in the pale daylight.
An odd sound reached her earfins, a strange chirping sound. She turned and, seeing nothing, looked down.
It was an odd little furball thing, running along on its pudgy legs, seeming to be chasing after the caravan. Malta watched it for a moment, surprised, then grinned. It was cute!
"Hi!" she chirped at it, running in front of it and crouching playfully.
It stopped in its tracks, squeaked frantically, and ran in the other direction. Malta tilted her head, curiously. "Where are you going?" she asked it, not expecting a response. It ran faster, chirping, into the brush.
"You're going the wrong way!" she called out, puzzled...
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