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As the first rays of sun began to cast a glowing, pinkish warmth over the dull dawn sky, cloven hooves trudged easily through a dusting of new rainfall, now crusted by frozen dew. Passing under a tree not far from the tavern's entrance, the tattered form of a horned beggar moved smoothly on in the dull half-light of the early morning, slowing at last at the sight of a nearby parchment. Scarlet eyes, showing with glinting clarity in even the muted softness of the the moment, scanned the page in moments at the barbarians approach, while a slow, even exhalation escaped a crack between tattered lips, sending an expanding cloud of steam rising from the savage's thick muzzle. Feathery brows furrowed, he stared for some time, features devoid of any response nor emotion, before eyes wandered to catch the nearby plume of some magnificent bird.
Approaching the feather, Raikeen sunk into a barbaric squat, raising one hand to stroke pensively at the deep crimson braids of his beard, his expression grave and unchanging. Two fingers extended at last as this mummified hand descended, stroking affectionately at the feather's fibres, before taking it's stem and lifting it from the earth. Fingers closed gingerly around the delicate thing like some precious treasure; concealing it from view. The ram stood without a word and continued his morning patrol; rustling hoofbeats fading into the hushed silence of the dawn.
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