He was agitated by the deepness of the night and their incompetence in finding the Flame. His leadership skills failed him and even as he tried to hold order between the members of the Daed it was useless. The others said nothing as he rounded the hearth fire. He held his hands out and focused on the ashes inside. They came to a blaze a moment later and Lorac sat down on a log. He rested his hands on his thighs as he stared at the dirt. “One more day of this and then we will return.” Lorac broke the silence. The others straying around the fire turned to look at him. “One of us will die if we return empty handed,” Delotha pointed out. Lorac’s mind was on the villagers. They hadn’t encountered a single village unwilling to help them. He looked at Delotha’s defeated expression. “We aren’t the only ones to be feared in these lands,” Lorac explained. “We are hardly feared at all!” Valtor exclaimed. He idly put his sword into the fire, making the blade hot and waited until it was a piercing red.
