Nhosh & Herd

Thirteen stags traveled behind their aged leader, working diligently to keep the hinds and fawns safe during their journey from the lower valley and into the highlands at the foothills of the Ochotona Mountains. Here, they were safer from the influence of the Valley's warring groups and out of the human hot spots where so many of their herd had been lost.

The going was slow, despite the good weather, and it had everything to do with Nhosh's pronounced limping and the fact that he was well into his eleventh year. He'd recovered from the assault on their own home those years ago, but his legs had never mended correctly, and now left him lame and struggling with daily aches. When Nhosh's pace began to suffer even more, Huyen took leave of the small stag party and sprinted to his friend's side to engage in a quieted conversation.

"Sir, if I might suggest, we should stand ground here and let the others graze." The whitetail was smaller than his red deer leader, but his strength and cunning had been a hallmark that had sealed his place as Nhosh's right-hand stag. That... and his brother's death, at the fangs of the Haunters.

Nhosh never spoke out about his discomforts, so despite the grinding pain that riddled his joints and the exhaustion that wanted to bring him down, he kept his head high as he stopped to consider his friend's advice. "This area will do. Have Nitro, Bramble, and SplinterFur scout the area."

Huyen dipped his head, "Yes sir." As he sprinted back towards the milling herd to deliver the orders, Nhosh stretched his shaggy neck and bellowed out, claiming the land for himself and his herd.