A breeze tugged at the hem of his robes. He was aware of the slight play in his attire, as he was aware of everything around him, but it held no true interest or concern. He simply catalogued the wind speed, should he have need to factor it into a spell later, and moved on. There were miles yet to cover before the sun set on the day and the miles already covered had not been kind.
Puffs of dust lifted away from each footfall and then settled before the next step was taken. It wasn’t the only sign of his passing, but these marks in the trail were the most obvious. Not that he expected to be followed, or cared if he was, but he was still mindful of the evidence he left behind. There were tricks and spells he could use to hide his back trail, but he was in too much of a hurry to bother.
The sun lowered itself upon the horizon, spreading the last of its warmth and glow in shrinking patterns and shapes. He marked the stretching shadows. He marked the settling chill. He marked the changing colors in the sky above. Each of these could be a factor if his magic was called upon. Still, he progressed steadily forward.
When the moon decided to slip free from hiding, he would stop for the night and use its muted glow to make a hasty camp and eat. He would trust his wards, woven into the fabric of the clothes he wore, to protect his short sleep and then in the morning, before the sun had begun to climb free of the opposite horizon, in its chase after the moon, he would journey on.
His destination waited two days ahead of him. There would be a fight. Blood would be spilled. Hopefully not his own, but one could never be certain of these things before they had actually happened. Still, even uncertain of the outcome, he must go. He owed it to those who had gone before him. He owed it to himself.
Thinking of the looming battle stirred emotions best left in check until his journey was over. Electricity crackled from his clenched hands and fire roared briefly in his eyes. Closing their lids, but not stopping his forward steps, he took a deep soothing breath and when he opened his eyes again the fire had gone. He tucked his rage away, saving it to unleash when he arrived and faced his tormentors. The fire rightfully belonged to them and they would see it in due time.