The plains of Bohar was a tough place for any wanderer mostly due to the fact food ran faster than most hunters and any other person found was either a nomad or a bandit, hence the fact he sat painfully sore on top of a long-haired horse being talked to in a flurry of languages surrounded by nomad guards and a rich looking merchant, of course this wasnt the first time Viserys had to take a job protecting people unworthy of his time but the money was good and the group was heading towards his target with a selection of black market items including illegal slaves.

Even as night fell onto the great plain the caravan kept moving slowly, with fewer guards taking place allowing a few at a time to sleep on the wagon due to time concerns. However, the gladiator quickly came to be known by his colleagues as the sleepless one in their thick accents due to the quick breaks he took only allowing himself some food and wine mostly due to the itching paranoia set in the back of his head even after the rumours the man had heard about the nomad guards turning on their bosses if given a command they didn't agree with but that didn't seem to faze the arrogant trader who sat atop the cart telling fables of his bravery and cunning to a bored looking guard allowing the gladiator to slip backwards slowing his horse to stare into the dark cage following them behind seeing eyes look back at him some filled with disgust or hate, others with fear before he slowly slid out a loaf of bread tossing inside the cage before pulling back into the line of horses infront.

Since setting off they had only encountered a few bandit groups and the odd trader each narrowly avoided or removed due to the dangerous shipment they had as movement in the darkness caused his eyes to squint through the flames of the torches and shoot his hand up "Halt!" the men taking to action putting the flames out with ease and lowering themselves as Vis shot forwards riding towards drawing his blade before stopping suddenly looking down upon the figure "What's someone like you doing in the middle of no where?"

It was finally time for the foxling to return home. Many adventures were had, and treasures obtained. Yet the call for home cried out to her. For the first time ever, Akira had a place to call home, with people waiting for her. This, in and of itself, made the prospect quite exciting. Due to this, much of her journey included more dancing, laughter and games than usual.

Unfortunately, this also made her an easy target for a lot of creatures. To protect her ward, the puca assumed the shape of a large, white tiger. Together, they romped and wrestled as they travelled ever northward. ”Neera, it’s getting dark. Camp time?” With the tiger nodding in ascent, Akira plopped down and began to scrounge in her pack. ”Akira has dry meat, old bread, and… Oh? What’s this? Fish cakes?!?”

She didn’t recall purchasing any fish cakes, to which Neera chuckled. ”You’re welcome. Enjoy it, Akira. We’re still some ways away from the next village.” After the food was consumed, the small child curled against the tiger. The snow fur and hair matched near seamlessly, standing out in the dark night. A loud purr softly rumbling against the young kitsune. In the distance, a travelling group was spied. As long as they passed by the child without disturbing her rest, they’d have no problems from the tiger.

Yet, such hopes were dashed as one separated himself from the group and approached the pair. Pointing his sword at the child, Neera stood and immediately growled her warning. ”Step away from us now, stranger.” Her words were low and menacing. Jostled from her sleep, Akira sat up, rubbing her eyes, oblivious to the sharp object mere inches away. One hand still rubbing an eye, the child peered up at the grown man with a single golden eye. ”Akira sleeping. Was, till you make Neera move.” The puca took the opportunity to push the child behind her, poised to strike at the man if he decided to make an aggressive move against her.

Never let it be said that the puca was not protective over the foxling.