The Briarthorp is one of the many animals that makes its home in the upper shelf. It is a large quadrupedal animal which is able to rise up on its rear legs. The animal is covered in brown fur often covered in a natural growing moss that provides it camouflage. The briarthorp is extremely fast over short distances but lacks the sustained speed needed for long chances of prey. The skeleton of the beast is thick and acts almost as armor against most piercing attacks. It has large paws with black hooked claws. The mouth of the creature is lined with dully pointed teeth and powerful jaws round out this creature made for ambushing prey with overwhelming power.  Serge felt hot with embarrassment as he gazed at the now dead beast. It was huge with deep brown fur covering its whole body. Dark hooked claws adorned powerful claws. The creature's mouth laid slack full of sharp brutal teeth. Why had he let his temper get the best of him? He had enjoyed every single step of the trip up until he had gotten tired. It was just fatigue and his youth, he knew that. His youth that he was painfully aware of at the moment. Youth that had led him right into this things path. He was also aware that without Durwin there he would have been dead. “Thank you for saving me and I am sorry I ran off.” Durwin was silent. He wondered what he would say to the boy. The past few days had been excellent. Serge had expressed his desire to travel with him to White Horn and being honest with himself he hoped the boy would stay a companion for a long time to come. Durwin separated the leg bone from the hip bone and hoisted the briarthorp’s leg up onto his shoulder. “Serge this was dangerous It is by Herre that I was able to follow you. Come lets get back to the campsite before the other predators find this kill.” Durwin felt the Deep Spirit stir within him. He knew that anger would not bring about the life Herre desired. “Serge I know that I am not a parent and that you chose to join me because I invited you. I want you to know that I will protect you but to do that you need to trust me and do as I ask. Also if you are not feeling well then lets address that.” “I really am sorry I just lost my temper.” Durwin smiled “You are forgiven. We just need to trust each other. I need to trust that you aren’t going to run off again and you need to trust that I am going to protect you. Now before it is too late, how about we practice throwing the knife again.” Back at the camp, Durwin used the leather from his belt to hang the meat high and away from the camp. Afterward he stepped Serge through the motions again. With about 15 tries the knife made contact with the wood and stuck. It stuck just by the tip but it stuck non the less. As they lay looking up at the stars framed by the tall trees Durwin thought about how fond of the boy he had become. Durwin had seen Serge beyond his age and the tragedy at the fort. When he had asked for his friend Gerald to be buried first Durwin had known then that the boy had a heart of compassion. When he heard how Gerald died he knew Serge had the potential to make hard decisions, a mark he had valued is many close friends. He only hoped that Serge would come to make those decisions for the good and Herre’s glory. The next day they made a quicker pace with White Horn very small over the horizon. Durwin had cooked them steaks from the briairthorp’s leg, with full bellies and rest the travel was just as enjoyable as it had been even at the faster pace. They traveled over a stretch of rocky terrain that gave way to the greenest grass Serge had seen. As the sun was setting the pair came upon a farmhouse. The farm set pristine and new on the untouched Field. Several piles of wood already planned and ready for building set next to the home. It was clearly a new farm building and the Field was still wild and had never been plowed before. Durwin clapped his hand to Serge’s back. How does sleeping under a roof tonight sound? Durwin trotted up to the farm door and knocked. Photo by [Thanh Tran]( on [Unsplash](