Shiranai Toshi, Lion Lands

The Ikoma warden rode into camp at full gallop, kicking up a tremendous cloud of dust and pollen from the long grass of the plain. Kakita Kaneo waved the mess from his face, coughing slightly. It was amazing how the climate could be so different here when he was only a short distance from the Crane lands, relatively speaking. He desperately hoped that the Legion’s duties here would soon be at an end so that he might return to the Crane lands as soon as possible. The Ikoma lands did not agree with him.

The warden leapt down from his horse and bowed quickly before Kaneo, who returned the bow. “Report,” he ordered crisply.

“Advance scouting reports indicate the Bloodspeakers driven from Shiranai Toshi are on the move, heading south toward the mountains, taisa-sama.”

Kaneo frowned. “If they reach the mountains…”

“…they will be gone, taisa-sama,” the warden finished.

“Alert the men,” Kaneo said firmly. He glanced to the west, Lord Sun was just dipping below the horizon. “We cannot find them in the night. We ride at first light, and we will not rest until we have fulfilled Dejiko-sama’s orders.” He looked back at the warden. “The Bloodspeakers shall not escape the Seventh Legion.”

“Hai!” the warden said with a bow. He turned and ran into the camp, kicking up another cloud of dust that Kaneo waved away irritably with a cough.

A noise awoke Kaneo in the middle of the night. He rose from his mat and drew his blade in one fluid, flawless motion. He crouched unmoving, listening for any hint of the scurrying sound that he had heard. Had it been a dream? He was not normally awakened by dreams. He waited for several long minutes before finally rising and stepping outside his tent.

The camp was quiet. Most fires had burned low, and few lanterns lit the area. He could see sentries near the edge, moving in their usual patrol patterns. Nothing seemed to be amiss, but he was not convinced. Something had awakened him, and he would know what it was.

Kaneo walked quietly through the camp, listening intently for any sign of disturbance. He had decided he was being paranoid when he heard it again. He glanced around and saw a hint of movement near one of the largest supply tents. He gripped his blade and ran, ripping open the tent flap to look inside.

The tent was a shambles. Containers of food, weapons, and everything else had been opened and scattered across the ground. It looked as if there had been a typhoon within the tent. Several forms moved about in the shadow, scattering from the meager light that Kaneo let in when he tore open the flap.

“Uh oh,” a strange voice said. “Time to go!”

“Okay,” another answered. “This last tent anyway.”

Several large, furry forms with long tails raced past Kaneo’s line of site, and he could hear the tearing of cloth somewhere near the tent’s rear. “Thanks-thanks, human!” a voice said happily. “You give Ith-ik’s pack much good things!”

Kaneo’s face twisted in rage as he shouted for the sentries, but he knew it would be too late.