The sheep grazed, but the earth was still harsh. Just outside of the walls and to the south of the city proper, the land was still not blighted, still had not fallen to the corruption caused when and where the Nagesse and sa'ag conquered.

They moved through rolling hills frozen in harsh winter, grazing only when the sun shone and made what little grass remained edible. The Seed was somewhere, the legends told, and once planted would sprout life and light once more. Fighting was seen as pointless. The War a needless effort. Just one seed and the world would return to its former glory.

The ignorant thought that the elders were older than time itself. Born before, when only the moon appeared in the night instead of the infectious dark. But the Elder Council knew better. Biscaw'he men were long lived because they did not take up arms against the dark. They lived symbiotic with the land and encouraged it to grow. There was a time that Mastoor remembered hills of green in the distance to the North of Rhashiz. Mountains capped with snow, earth, and moss covered rock where paths had been cleared through ancient oak and pine. But all that stood of this border was red rock and dry, useless earth. Their best efforts, and the rains that came, only absorbed and futile against the onslaught of taint.

?D'eh keke o'eh?? His first wife's hair had shone with sun. When they courted, he had told Rosa it was this that would light the dark and rid the world of the sei'toon. Now it was a burnished white, and only their difference in age kept her face from matching the wear in his own. ?What troubles you??

He knew his frown etched more lines into his face, and even felt them. ?We must move again soon, my sun and moon. The sheep have little to graze in the winter. And no lambs can be born in these conditions. Just the other day two of Layle's took sick from the cold. Even by the fires, and nestled within the flock, I found them frozen.?

Rosa's face still held that smile though concern painted her brow. She always put her best face forward, even in the encroaching darkness. ?We have moved into the city to ford winter before.? He knew that gentle tone in her voice. It spoke of suggestions she would not openly utter in front of the First Elder.

?Yes.? Mastoor leaned heavy on his staff of curved, twisting wood. The bough that had been used had twisted in some spots and was warped. But it spoke of nature, and the Biscaw'hes' ability to live with it. With the constant ache in his back that only seemed to come in winter, he sometimes wished for one that was straight. ?We have. Will you go and tell the Elders we move for Lord Ahnaas' Keep?? It was maddening that his legs were no longer sturdy enough to carry these messages quickly.

Rosa did not, and would not judge him for his degrading body. Still with that smile, she touched her forehead to his hand, and moved to speak to a young boy minding his flock.

Mastoor rose a ululating call to the sky. And soon after a dragon wheeled overhead. With a few powerful flaps of her wings, she landed close by. When his legs finally carried him close enough to speak, he sought quiet council from one of his most trusted friends.