[littlemanpoet]

Thorn kept his mind's eye on Owl atop his staff, as he walked purposefully toward the gate: he could hear the Song. Thus he knew what Lord Khandr had said to the Ulfing lords, and what he had said to his retainers. Khandr was an Eagle with necessary shades of Serpent and Fox. He was a good leader, resigned to his fate if it be death, and would not shy from it; but also that he would be as clever as he knew to be, and would send word to his lord back among the Borrim. Thorn allowed himself the ghost of a smile.

The Ulfing lordlings were Bulls. Ambitious, reckless, making their way with whatever allies served the moment, even if it would be for the worse later. They had sent for Thorn's capture. They had sent one Ruadan to secure him. How fitting. They would rue their choices, as their choices would ruin their folk. He smiled to himself mirthlessly: if he said these things aloud, his hearers would jeer; but such connections were the trade-tools of seers. They need not make sense to others. The Song revealed all it would; what others thought of it meant nothing.

A servant of Khandr named Fastarr was faster than Ruadan and intercepted him. Thus Ruadan was rudely interrupted in his effort to obey his Ulfing lords; he would rue his failure and would be ruined by his lords. Another man rode after him through the gates, one Hugo by name. He came up beside Thorn and reined his horse and opened his mouth to speak, but Thorn spoke before the man could get a word out.

"Hugo, I am to go where you go," Thorn said matter of factly, enjoying the play on the man's name. The man looked stunned to hear from Thorn's mouth that which he thought he would have to persuade him of. Then his face cleared.

"Up you come!"

His fitness belying his years, Thorn mounted up behind Hugo and off they went.