Chapter 7: The Road

　　The marsh's oppressive humidity finally broke. The land rose again, and the familiar, dry air of the Barrens returned like a forgotten comfort. Kaelen followed a natural animal trail, his body aching, his hide crisscrossed with scratches from the bats and the earlier lizard-folk blade. The cuts were shallow but stung with every movement.
　　The trail widened, merging with a hard-packed, reddish-brown path cut clearly into the earth. A road. It was the first true sign of organized travel he had seen. Wheel ruts cut deep into its surface, and the air carried the faint, lingering scents of leather, oil, and dust.
　　He stood at its edge, hesitant. Roads meant people. People meant danger. But they also meant civilization. A direction. After days of wandering aimlessly, the simple certainty of a path was irresistibly tempting.
　　He chose a direction and began to follow it, keeping to the very edge where the hard earth met the wild grass. He moved at a steady trot, his ears constantly swiveling, listening.
　　It wasn't long before he heard it. A rhythmic, metallic clanking, growing steadily louder from behind him. He scrambled off the road, hiding behind a large, thorny bush, his heart thudding.
　　A few minutes later, a magnificent sight came into view. A massive, armored kodo beast, its shaggy hide covered in painted symbols, plodded along the road, its great head swaying. On its back, in an ornate howdah, sat a Tauren, his broad, calm face shaded by a wide-brimmed hat. The Tauren held the reins loosely, humming a deep, resonant tune. The clanking came from pots and tools strapped to the kodo's sides.
　　The Tauren's eyes, wise and peaceful, scanned the horizon. They passed over Kaelen's bush without a flicker of alarm or hostility. There was no hatred, no fear. It was a simple, passing glance, an acknowledgment of another being on the road. Then he was past, the clanking and the humming fading down the path.
　　Kaelen let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. The encounter had lasted seconds, but it left him feeling strangely calm.
　　The feeling was short-lived.
　　A new sound reached his ears from the direction the Tauren had come. The jingle of harnesses and the crisp clip-clop of hooves on hard ground. Not the plodding of a kodo, but the disciplined trot of trained animals.
　　He shrank back into his hiding place.
　　Around the bend came a patrol. Two human soldiers on armored horses, their steel plate gleaming in the sun. They rode with a stiff, alert posture. Between them, a figure in dark, travel-stained robes rode a sleek, black horse.
　　The lead soldier's hand went up, and the patrol halted not twenty feet from Kaelen's bush.
　　"Report says centaur activity has increased near the Crossroads," the soldier said, his voice crisp and official. "Keep your eyes open. The brutes have been getting bold."
　　The robed figure nodded silently.
　　The second soldier shifted in his saddle, his gaze sweeping the roadside. His eyes narrowed as they fell upon the bush. He pointed with his chin. "Tracks. Fresh. Large. Equine."
　　Kaelen froze.
　　The lead soldier leaned forward, peering into the shadows. "Probably just a stray kodo," he grunted after a moment. "Still. We're behind schedule. Let's move."
　　He spurred his horse, and the patrol continued at a brisk trot, the dust from their passing settling over Kaelen's hiding place.
　　He waited a long time after the sound of their hooves had faded. He looked down the empty road, first in the direction of the peaceful Tauren, then in the direction of the suspicious soldiers. The road offered no safety, only a choice of dangers. But for the first time, he had seen a face that held no ill will. It was a small thing, a single, quiet moment in a world of chaos. But as he finally left the road and struck out again into the trackless wild, the memory of the Tauren's calm, passing glance was a tiny, warm ember in the cold emptiness of his exile.