Tahirah watches as the people of Charyk exit through the new gateway.  She can see Parcifal, standing beyond it, in a forest glade, lit by shafts of green-tinted sunlight.  He is directing the new arrivals, pointing to some place off to the left, for most of them.  Those wearing the uniforms of the city watch he keeps close, instead, and sets them to work helping the injured or infirm, or those who have managed to salvage some significant portion of their belongings, and need assistance in moving their goods.

"Excuse us, Miss... "  The man who speaks to her seems to be no older than Tahirah, though the layers of dirt (and blood, she notes) on his face make it hard to be sure, but his voice sounds much older, rasping through his dust-dry throat, "Just wanted ter thank yer fer lookin' after us, an' showin' us a way out."  He reaches out one hand, lays it on her shoulder, and manages a weak smile.

When he turns away, his touch leaves no dirt on her pristine white robe.


Behind her, she hears a voice, slightly familiar.  Turning, she sees James coming back through from the city proper.  Berd is with him, and a woman that Tahirah does not recognise.  All of them look as dirty and battered as the refugees, and wet.  They seem to be burned too...

Berd, in particular, looks to be in poor condition.


Outside, a strange group makes its way back towards the East Gate, beneath a sky  hazy with smoke from the burning upper reaches of the city.

Panthers move across the ground, accompanied by brintizzi, who keep a careful watch on the shattered landscape, and allow the big cats to concentrate on their wounded.  Some are healing well, already, but some have suffered more grievous wounds in the battle.

Jonnee Kay stays with the brintizzi.  He is their leader, and where they go, he goes too.  Morgan, too, stays with those who follow him.

Higher, the great drakes of Samhain soar and glide, many of them with riders now, tolerating it well enough, though it is clear that they would prefer people not to make a habit of riding them.

Roman flies with the drakes, his elemental form moving easily among and around them.

From this high vantage, it is possible to see that the remaining ormvråkar are landing a little distance away.  Their riders are removing their harnesses and releasing them, knowing, it seems, that the great eyries in Charyk are doomed.  The birds, with the gratitude typical of their cantankerous kind, are pecking and biting at anybody who gets too close.  Most of them sit, seemingly dazed, once they are free, but eventually accept their liberty, flapping away heavily, to climb above the forest.

The harnesses pile up on the ground.

And, finally, they heroes reach the gate itself, to find a wolf sprawled across the roadway outside, giving them a look which clearly asks, "What kept you?"

"It seems," Aaron said to the wolf, "that the enemy has replaced Hunter with a cat. At least, that's what it looks like! Sprawled out as you are, old comrade!" He laughed, a sharp, dry bark of his own.

He sagged then, but held himself up upon his mount nonetheless. It wouldn't do anyone any good to see him pass out before they entered the gates themselves.

To keep himself occupied, he kept his eyes on the rest of his exhausted, beleagured group.