Heria and Saykkera had left right after a light meal, though Heria had been rather angry. Angry wasn’t quite the word, frustrated may have worked a little better, but no doubt there was some anger at the world for having to leave. Ares had brought everyone together, glancing at the six other that remained since three of them had left to return to Rivea.

 

“I can understand the frustration some of you may have with having to reduce our numbers by three, but unfortunately it was needed. I would not have asked Heria to leave unless it was something important, though I am certain that the rest of us have the ability to continue on without much issue.” Ares judged their faces for a short moment. They seemed fine with what had occurred, and so he sighed. Thankfully his people were quite understanding, or rather, they were used to Ares’ quirkiness at this point.

 

“So?” Torak asked.

 

“So what?” Ares replied.

 

“What is it now?”

 

“What is what now?”

 

Torak raised his brow and crossed his arms, waiting for Ares to continue on. He gave Ares a look, the look, an expectant look as though one would when they knew something was coming and they were just waiting for it, like a ball that had been kicked and they had no chance of dodging it.

 

Ares looked at the others quickly and then back to Torak. He cleared his throat and proudly exclaimed, “the Statue Seven,” he said as he turned. “Now let’s go.”

 

With that they left, heading towards the western direction. They did not want to meet with any other boarfolk or rhinofolk, so that left only the buffalofolk that they could speak with. Ares recalled that the buffalofolk had been quite passionate in their fighting, they really wanted to kill Ares. He wondered why as he recalled no matter in which they could have personally been annoyed by him, he had not yet transgressed onto them. Perhaps it was not anger, perhaps it was something else? Ares wasn’t entirely certain.

 

However the beautiful golden plains continued onward until they came across the rather dryer bronze plains, with cracks on the floor that continued onward like the roots of a tree, and they were all alone. They could not see life anywhere nearby here, and though it was only twenty or so miles from their old camp, it seemed like a much different world.

 

He could see little sticks in the distance, small trees that were peppered along the landscape, so alone and sad. He wondered what a life like that would be, to see others off in the distance but never having any communication with them, for you lacked the strength to meet with them. He frowned.

 

Then finally he began to create their encampment, since they did not wish to continue along the arid landscape. It was quite hot what with the searing red sun that beat down upon them with it’s rays, their sweat clung to their clothes and armour causing each to stick against one another.

 

Ezak went to work on creating food, though with Heria and Asyllia missing, they would actually need to start guarding one another. Ares and Ezak could not, so Jiaga and Zika decided to stay on watch until food was done, and then Orndu and Beor would take over, with finally Torak taking over as evening would come. Then they would take watches over the night, but this time Ezak and Zika would pair up, Torak would take the watch alone, followed by Beor and Orndu, and then finally Ares.

 

Ezak had just finished with the food when Ares then formed a small basin nearby for later. He then joined the others to eat with. Beor ate first, still half on watch, whereas Orndu would stay at attention and then eat later.

 

Ares gave thanks to each member for joining him in this fine meal. “Let us continue our good fortune whilst we explore,” Ares said as he thought about what Rori had said before they had left, “and pray for even more fortune so we can bring back something great.”

 

The others agreed and then began to eat. Ares tasted the soup, it was basically the same thing they had yesterday, but this time they had flat bread smothered with a bit of fat. They changed the bread every day, and then soon they’d start to cook slightly different meat so they would always have something slightly new. They would also drink different kinds of milk, oxen milk on one day, and then wolf milk. The wolves that the wolffolk had apparently also gave milk, and quite a lot of it. Ares knew that they could give milk, but enough to really fill up someone?

 

Well no, not quite. It was only a little bit of milk, but they would take shots of it in order to chase a different flavour. The milk was water and plain in comparison to the oxen milk, but it was fine when it was lightly spiced.

 

Ares drank down the small bowl of milk he had and then sighed as he pat his stomach. “This seems to be a fun life, going around and exploring.”

 

“You should not get too used to it,” Torak said with a suspicious eye. “If you do, you will find yourself mourning when you return to Rivea.”

 

“I won’t mourn when I return to Rivea, I’ll have missed it too much.” Ares laughed. “Rivea is a wonderful place, I would prefer to be there.” Ares thought about the night and how he felt so… lonely? No, perhaps it wasn’t lonely. Cold. Everything was less warm here, and Rivea’s warmth was something he missed.

 

“Have you often done such a thing? Exploring the land and such?” Torak asked as he sipped on his milk.

 

Ares gave a long smile, as though it was a snake unfurling from sleep. “Actually…” Ares thought about his previous life and then shook his head. “No. I didn’t do this at all. I remained at home and rarely stepped foot outside.”

 

Torak nodded. “Is that what a human does?”

 

Ares shook his head. “Some… well, quite a few that I know of, but it’s very rare.”

 

“Why did you do it?”

 

Ares frowned. “Just… that’s how it was.” Ares stared into the flames of the dying fire, which was barely above an ember at the moment. “I didn’t really have any reason to do anything.”

 

Torak remained silent for a long moment. The sound of Ezak slurping his bowl had broken the silence and Ares threw him a look. The young man hid behind his bowl as he finished drinking it’s contents.

 

“I had often explored when I was younger, when I first became a Horn. It had to be done in order to create the first oxenblut, but it was…” Torak looked up to Ares. “I believe I know your sentiment. It was fun to explore, but I had missed my home.”

 

“Isn’t that how it always is?” Ares asked. “Things just don’t seem the same when you’re not home. Even if you make the same food elsewhere, it doesn’t taste the same as when it does when you’re home.” Ares looked down to his bowl and then raised. “This bowl will never taste the same as a bowl in Rivea, but that doesn’t mean it tastes bad. This bowl tastes like the seven of us exploring on our expedition. If we return to Rivea, that bowl will not taste like such.”

 

Torak looked up at the bowl and then his own. Beor placed his down, having finished his second helping before he stood up and then walked around. Orndu began his first bowl.

 

“What of you, Orndu?” Ares asked. He had wanted to ask Beor, but Beor was on watch at the moment and he didn’t want to break the man’s concentration.

 

“It tastes good,” Orndu said. “It doesn’t taste the same as the bowls in Rivea.”

 

Ares nodded his head before he looked at Ezak, who had poured himself a little more of the soup and then was sipping at it as quietly as he could. He caught Ares’ eye and then stopped.

 

“It tastes fine,” the young Bitan said, “the water is not the same as the water in Rivea.”

 

Ares smiled and then he began to laugh, which echoed beyond the plains. “That’s right, that’s right! The water tastes very different in Rivea. Which do you prefer, the water in Rivea or the water at home?”

 

“Rivea is my home,” the Bitan said a little confused.

 

Ares smiled even wider. “I meant your old home, with the Bitan.”

 

Ezak thought about it for a while, and Ares could see his eyes, the way they bounced as Ezak conversed with himself in his mind. Then finally Ezak said, “they taste different. The memories of the water are different. They’re too different to choose.”

 

Ares nodded his head. “I’m glad that you enjoy Rivea’s water, though.”

 

Ezak smiled coyly.

 

Then Ares looked to Jiaga. “What about you?”

 

“The water in Rivea, though delicious, cannot compare to the water of the oasis within the Silver Palace,” Jiaga said.

 

“It’s that good?”

 

Jiaga looked down at his empty bowl, his lips falling down at the corners. “Yes.”

 

“Then one day you will have to pour me a cup,” Ares said as he then stood up and rubbed his thighs, which had started to feel rather tight.

 

Jiaga bowed his head. “I will.” The dark skinned man smiled towards Ares.

 

“Let’s bathe before the darkness falls,” Ares said, “it will be too cold then.”

 

With that he started to fill the basin, creating another and then filling it up. He would allow each one to have their own basin with the freshest water. He was sure he had enough water, he had siphoned quite a bit whenever he was near a water source.

 

He sighed when he finally fell into his little basin, tossing a bar of soap towards the others. He looked down at the water and then scooped it. Even now, this water was different. He submerged slightly until only his head was above the water. He thought of Lana and her warmth. He thought of Runar and her headbutts. He thought of Ozar and his confident steps and Ozri and his much less confident steps. He thought of Rori and his wisdom.

 

He missed each one.