The ride home to Carver's Outpost was long, yielding little rest for my body and not one speck of peace for my mind. I had accomplished nothing for all my time spent in Calliope's saddle, for all those hours.. days stacked on days, in which I searched for the Necromancer of Gloumenwood. I found his humble bungalow deep in the forest's heart but little more before my Lord and Master yanked hard upon my tether and forced me home.

Home.. The Amberleaf Weald and to a lesser extent, Carver's Outpost has lost much of its appeal. Colors have blanched to shades of gray. The denizens.. who never warmed to me anyway, seem chiseled from blocks of ice these days.

Upon my return, the first glimpse of my native township was in misty light of a early morning. Dawn was painting the skyline with her lavender streamers and only the most early risers were beginning to stir from their beds. A window here and there glowed as watchful luminescent eyes amongst the otherwise sleepy village.

I confess I circled around the Outpost's main fairway, the dirt road which runs directly through the heart of town, not wishing to be spotted by someone who might mention it in passing to my father. I was barely in the saddle as it was, such had been the maddened rush to backtrack all those miles before Asmodeus tugged harder and beset me with something to really light a fire under me.

I was exhausted, pushed far past my limits.. yet I was shaking so badly as I rode into the forest that my teeth chattered. Jumping at every shadow, fear molted away any weariness. I had denied the Briar King. Ignored him. Avoided him. I could only hope he wasn't also aware I was trying to find a way to kill him... dead.

[0 petals fell]