Trying to discern what it was, the two riders closed in carefully. Huge dirty white curves arced over from out of the ground like massive fingers of bone. Other fragments lay scattered nearby, one enormous section sitting isolated further out like an abandoned boulder. Dispelling any wild possibilities, it dawned on Hanor what it was. Stopping respectfully, the Fifanian’s eyes checked the surrounding region for anything to shed light on this mystery. Inhaling the quiet breeze, reading its vibrations for further evidence, a low murmur admitted Kifter’s distaste. Sleek eyes continued to search. Turning his head, listening for what the scene might be hiding, the signs were not good. Hanor waited, this cautious fellow from the south proving why he was here. The conduct of someone exceptionally sharp and thorough, he waited as the Fife turned back towards the huge remains, a sense of disgust flickering across his tapered face. Daring not to utter a word for fear of distracting his guide, Hanor tried to fathom what the creature actually was. Its ribcage, which had alerted them originally to its location, thronged and hummed as the breeze swirled through it like an invisible musician playing a sorry tune. An eerie, empty atmosphere permeated the region. Normally untroubled at seeing animals killed at home, but this felt like a great tragedy, a type of sacrifice to the unholy. “I do not like this at all,” Kifter said grimly. “What was it?” Hanor asked, subdued at the awful sight. “This is a sign of things to come,” the Fife said solemnly. “Do you see those marks?” He pointed at grooves scoring different parts of the ribcage as well as the main frame. They were easy enough to see. Marks resembling the sweepings of a claw, slashing frantically with only one thing in mind, the vulnerable creature must have died a horrific death. Appalled by its apparent agony, Hanor felt sick. “What could have done this?” “I said it was best that you did not know everything right away,” Kifter explained, now forced into something he wished to avoid. “This is the work of… Nightshifters.” “Night… shifters…?” “I have heard varying tales of Their existence,” Kifter went on, speaking as someone mourning the death of a friend. “They are terrible beyond imagination. There are details you will need to know, and I will explain them in due course, but for now… we should leave this place of death. There has been great suffering here.” “I know what you mean,” Hanor agreed sadly, feeling the pain for himself. “What is this creature?” Kifter looked pained, having to admit the dreadful reality. “This was an animal that is not commonly known or spoken of. Roving The Freelands, it was a wondrous creature…, almost mystical by nature. A legendary being of immense power, it was one of a pair. Some say they are creatures born out of the very ground we stand on, a reflection of the forces governing this world, but I cannot say for sure. Rarely are they seen, and people consider themselves blessed if they do. This Hanor… was unmistakably a Great White Freeloaver. These remains have been here for a considerable time.” Halting again when they reached the massive skull out on its own, a huge hole at the forefront of its head generated more unease. “It looks as though The Nightshifters were after Its precious horn,” the Fife said, pointing at the place where it should be. More claws marks suggested the horn had not been easy to free. Kifter sighed, words failing him. Hanor was equally aggrieved. Thank you for taking the time to look. Another scene from the coming book. The kyboes, saddles and reigns were modelled by my good friend Andre (AndreElias), everything else done by yours truly. Please feel free to leave any comments, especially suggestions that will help improve it. Thanks. Steve.