Tarannon shifted the reins to his right hand. He reached over to grasp the saddle's pommel. Setting one foot in the stirrup, he prepared to mount. Something stopped him. It was a soft trail of music. Curious, he stepped down and followed it.
The music came from a small wooden flute that rested in the hands of his friend, Rinoas. Rinoas's tent was set on the edge of camp, by a large tree. The tree hung over the tent, keeping off wind but also sunlight. Tarannon approached to find his friend watching the sky. He called to Rinoas, teasing with Islist's threat of half-rations. Rinoas laughed and hurried to gather his things, Tarannon waiting for him.
[ June 16, 2003: Message edited by: Arestevana ]
[ June 28, 2003: Message edited by: Arestevana ]
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