Caius blinked back tears as he trudged ahead through the forest. There wasn’t any time for that. He had to try and remain focused. There were too many questions that demanded answers. How much time did the killer have on him? An hour? Two? Considering the gruesome methods involved, one could only suspect the Lost Ones. How could they have come all the way to his home unhindered? His father’s magic should have dealt with any sort of threat from their kind. What was the purpose in all of this? And where was Kelsen dammit! Where was he when this happened? Neither of them was ever far from their father.

He gave a start as he spotted several figures coming towards him from the north. By the hunched over gait and shuffling steps, there was no mistaking them for Lost Ones. Thanking his magical sight he stepped behind a tree to catch his breath. They had not discovered him yet, but that would change in a moment. The Lost Ones generally felt threatened by any presence other than their own. Although he wasn’t in any position to fight against these odds, he was in no mood to run and hide either. This group may hold the answers that he was looking for. He quickly decided on his course of action. The verse he needed sprang quickly to mind:

He could feel the rising heat in his blood as the magic flowed through him. A slight tingling spread throughout his body from the top of his head, through the tips of his fingers, down into his feet and toes. This verse cloaked him to move freely through the forest without fear of sight, smell or sound. As far as the fallen were concerned, there was not another soul for miles.

Moving with confidence that only magic can give, he quickly moved towards the group to observe. Even as he drew closer, his hopes sank with every step. At this range he would have felt any trace of the True Blood, no matter how small. Although the Lost Ones never uttered more than an occasional grunt laced with profanity, they did not appear to move or speak with any sort of purpose or apprehension. From what he was able to understand, they were discussing plans for the next meal. As far as a Lost One could discuss that is. Only one weapon was drawn as far as he could see. Wanting to continue with the search without any more distraction from this group, he quickly put them to sleep.

They were asleep as the last few words left his mouth. It was unlikely that they would wake until the next day. He always felt he should deal firmly with those of the fallen. Not wanting to expel any further energy, he dispelled the magic from his cloaking chant, and continued the hunt.

He began to quicken his pace with a sense of urgency that grew from fear of failure. He couldn’t allow this race to continue through till daylight. By then he feared it would be too late. Although the signs were still easily readable, he had no idea as to how long they had been there. He had never traveled this far into the forest alone as the blanketing silence continued to remind him. As his eyes continued to search the shadows for the odd footprint or broken twig, his thoughts turned to the day that his father had first taught he and his brother of their legacy.