A single horse ambled past the border of torches, the sound of its hooves dominating the air in the dead silent camp. Firelight licked the rider’s armor, dark as the shadow around him and bearing the flaming blades of the Moroth Phalanx. Rho squinted at the face; his heart quickened in fear at the nightmarish sight. The rider was a tiger; or at least, he appeared to be. His fur was black – not uncommon to Pretora and Aspeides alike – but his stripes were blood red, like gaping wounds ringing his body. Rho thought it was a trick of the light at first, but as the feline neared the fire it became undeniably certain; a black-furred tiger with red stripes. Rho had never heard of such a thing; fur-dying was quite common but this was the most intricate job that he had ever seen. The tiger looked around at them, his green eyes wary.

Arrigo approached him. "Greetings, sir! Can we offer you something this night? Food? Shelter?"

The tiger grinned, but a vile curl far from the warm grin the Wayfarers were used to. He took something from his belt and tossed it to Arrigo. The lizard caught it then dropped it and jumped back with a yelp as if he had been given a snake. Rho looked closer; it was a gray feline tail, its bloody end staring straight at him. As the other Wayfarers realized what it was, they shrieked and backpedaled.

"Shadecoat?" Rho whispered. The look on Jockomo’s face answered his question.

"I heard a bit of interesting news today," The tiger said in a booming voice that silenced the camp once again. "I heard that a group of filthy Wayfarers took in two canine fugitives." He tsked like a father to his children. "You wouldn’t be helping the enemy, now would you?"

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