When the sun’s first rays fell upon my face, I stretched and awoke to the familiar sight of my stone-carved room.  The walls were rugged and had a reddish tint to them like the rest of the sandstone mountains in this area.  My newer herbs and spices hung from the ceiling beams where they were free to dry, while the rest I kept watertight bowls with deerskin stretched taughtly over their mouth.  I had very few personal possessions in my room apart from the silver dagger my father had given me and the gifts I had received from thankful clansmen.  It was unhealthy for a Na’Orithien such as myself to be too attached to worldly thinks such money or knick-knacks.  
I stretched out a wing to catch some of the sun’s warmth and laid in bed for a precious, quiet moment.  The heady scent of juniper and sage mingled with the ancient scent of unmovable stone, but there was something sour lurking beneath it.  It smelled of dark places and salty plants, of rich mud and algae-ridden water.  The smell triggered the memories of last night to flow forward, unbidden, like water from a dam.  
Under the cover of darkness, sleek forms made of shadows and nightmares had crept up the mountain and into our village.  They did not come with peace in mind, and before the sun rose much blood was shed onto the cobbles of our streets.  Our town had been raped by the touch of these strangers- their scent was in the air, between the cracks windows, rubbed into the folds of our clothing.  I tried to suppress a shudder as I stood and drew my cloak about me.  Their foul smell was caught in my nostrils even now.
	I pulled aside the faded curtain of my door and immediately drew back in surprise and horror.  Standing there with his broad back to me was a member of the Grinnaeck clan!  His scales were an unusual sickly green- one of the most prominent colors of their swamplands.  Unlike the strong-set jaw that was common of my people, his snout was extremely long, and filled with innumerable needle-like teeth.  His thin, clever hands were webbed and his thick tail was flattened like a paddle.  I hissed in distaste and back-peddled to the safety of my room.
	His presence confirmed my fears; this was not just a nightmare.  It was real, real as the cold lump of fear that had settled at the bottom of my stomach, and I felt my last, weak hope dwindle.  I could possibly get past this single guard, but the leader of the Grinnaeck clan was thorough (if merciless), and was undoubtedly smart enough to post multiple guards at the stead of a Na’Orithien.  Perhaps I could even get as far as the Podium at the center of town before they overtook me, but after that they would summon the Magic-Eaters and all would be lost.  I could see their twisted faces in my mind’s eye.  Their white eyes were set into a gaunt, narrow face filled with hunger.  The skin of their bodies was stretched tight over their skin, as if they had started to dry and rot where they stood.  Our magic, our Soulsong, was what they sought with their curious tongues- always testing the air, questing over surfaces to see if they might glean a taste of that delicacy.
	They disgusted me even more than our captors.  I knew the Eaters would be called to render me useless.  As soon as I summoned a Spirit with my Song they would devour it, and another, and another, and another…until they finally reached me.  I had a feeling my end would not be so painless as those that died last night.