Leothross peered through the darkness trying to make out an object well beyond him. That must be 30 meters, he thought. He took a deep breath, gathered himself, and threw a small object toward the target with all his might. The object lit up as it flew, spinning wildly, sending flickers of light into the darkness. It hit its target, and blazed brightly for a few moments, illuminating a bare sand bank. It was a perfect spot for practice, he knew. Out, away from civilization, and a comforting view of the land around him. You could even make out the lights of Bree-town in the distance, but he wasn't looking. Instead, he took a few more large steps back, and readied for another shot.
"Ghost", ghost indeed... but only in terms of his ghastly appearance, and even ghastlier manners. A blaze again lit up the darkness. 50 meters. Leothross looked on with some satisfaction, his frustration beginning to abate. His thoughts grew clearer. What was that all about anyway? He had told Mariym that he had never reacted like that before, that he could remember. That was true, but an old foreboding whispered in his heart that such a temper was not actually rare for him. Hardly a temper, he countered, I was being protective. Besides, it didn't come to violence. He didn't want to think about what would have happened if it had. Anyway, the past does not define the present, he tried to reassure himself. But the past created you, the voice insisted.
"A past I don't even remember!" he cried out loud, suddenly hurling another of his projectiles. He watched it hit, yet again, and realized he had wandered a bit farther out. 60 meters. He sighed.
At the loud cry, Throssian, that ever faithful bear, lumbered over to him. He had watched the whole thing with relative apathy, but now he gazed at him with what could have been a searching and empathetic gaze, if you could interpret the actions of a bear. Leothross could not, but he laid his hand on Throssian's neck, burying it in his fur. "It doesn't seem to bother you any, does it?" he muttered.
What had gotten him all worked up in the first place? A strange and dangerous looking man had walked, maybe slunk would be a better word, behind Mariym as they sat talking in the Pony. He proceeded to lay his hands on her, and suggested, rather authoritatively, that she remove her mask. That's all, nothing suspicious about that.
He'd never seen her without her mask - he told himself it was a respect for privacy, though whether that was the real motive, it was hard to tell. But that alone seemed to warrant a reaction. Not that it helped. In fact. the man had brushed him away condescendingly, calling him 'lad'. He raised his right hand to his head, his left still buried in Throssian's fur, and forced himself to stay calm. Granted, he did not actually know how old he was, but... Well, it had to be pretty old. Though, he was in pretty good shape, he thought with no small self-satisfaction, looking again toward the blackened target. Anyway, Mariym herself did not seem very trusting of the man, though he had apparently been a mentor, of sorts. He hoped to the Vala that she did not learn anything but combat skills from such a man. He clearly was worse at social interactions and laisse faire than Leothross himself.
He took a few more steps back, leaving Throssian to watch again, and gripped the little ball tightly in his right hand. He was sure glad the "Ghost" hadn't actually tried anything. He didn't know what exactly would have happened, but something would have burned. He was afraid of the possibility that it may not have been the intended target. He gripped it harder still, and let it begin igniting in his hand. He felt the heat grow against his gloved hand. Flames flicker out between his fingers. When he could take the heat no longer, he hurled it.
70 meters. Direct hit. His arm was strong, strong as it ever had been, he wagered in his head. There was no denying it. It was time.
Leaving the unsettling memory of the encounter with the "Ghost" burning with the last embers of his projectile, he trudged toward town, followed closely by Throssian.
