The beauty of the forest in the early morning was enchanting to Barton. Fog covered the forest floor, circling the trunks of the trees, but at eye height everything was just perfect. In some places, where the upcoming sun protruded the canopy, it cast little rainbows in the mist. It was enchanting, even though Barton could no longer discern all of the colours he used to. Everyone else was still asleep, but Barton had always been a morning person.

Marvelling at the scenery, Barton was confronted again with the actual reason he had woken up so early. He hated the idea, but he had to eat something.

It would’ve been alright if it was someTHING… Barton had tried eating somethings for several days, ever since the sheep massacre that was left of his former residence and livelyhood, but either he threw them up or he felt weak for a long time afterwards. No, he knew he had to eat someONE. His tiger insides were telling him to, yet his druid mind really didn’t want to. What he wanted was his tiger body to get used to eating roots and vegetables. He was quite sure it wouldn’t though. Feeding a carnivore digestive system with plants, even in evolutionary terms didn’t ever work out. He had heard about the panda.

He didn’t want to be a panda.

He also didn’t want to kill some innocent little musky, tasty…

Barton purred as he caught the scent of breakfast and he had flattened himself to the ground even before his brain could begin to make an argument. He stalked closer and closer to the smell and when he finally got a visual a small buck was staring at him, big brown eyes wide in fear, nostrils flaring.

Before he could even take in the horror on the look of its face Barton pounced and caught the buck right in the neck. He bit down, tasted blood and only then won the fight over his instincts. Too bad for the buck, it was already done for.

Barton hung his head in sorrow, and in a low register, sung an elvish prayer for the soul of the creature he had just murdered. At least it had died fast enough not to suffer. As he finished the prayer, he realised the irony in what he had just done. He always used to be the exception, being the naturalist he was, not praying to Usiah before meals like the rest of the village. And now he wasn’t human anymore he had started saying grace. Well in his defence, at least the forest spirits DID exist and had given him a very real bounty. Saying thanks to the soul of the animal was the least he could do.

And with that final thought Barton surrendered himself to the tiger within and had a wonderful breakfast. After eating the entire front and middle of the buck, he ripped the spine in two and dragged the leftover hind legs back to his new friends. They’d probably want something to eat as well.

They were an odd bunch, his newfound comrades, but refreshing. Humans were so limited in their comprehension of the world. To the most of them it was just, growing up, finding a profession, finding a mate, marry, have children, grow old, and die. All that whilst worshipping some stupid deity that didn’t even exist, ignoring the real divine powers of nature, and having some silly witch magic all their worries away.

Humans and their petty worries. The thing everyone worried the most over was being different. Usiah forbid you were different. Tsk. Being different meant being an outcast, shunned by society. Barton had hated that. He had always known he was different, and he hadn’t minded. What he had minded was the loneliness that came with it. He hoped he could put that behind him now. Well for now. For as long as he was a tiger his newfound friends thought he was cool.

He smirked. Well he WAS quite cool right now.

As were the others. Nargi was incredible. Such a large brutish creature but with so much compassion and caring in his soul, it was magnificent. And then the troubled elf. Oh, how he would love to see her open up and shed the darkness that surrounded her. He didn’t know what haunted her, but it was sure to be something of immense magnitude. As scary and sorrowful that was, it was interesting to say the least.

And then there was Grishar. A ball of energy and cheerfulness, loving and honest. The little guy probably had the biggest heart of all, and it was on the tip of his tongue the entire time. Barton was a fan. The guy had a dirty mind and made the worst puns, also half the time he didn’t even know what he was saying, which was extremely funny. Barton hadn’t laughed as much in the past 20 years as he had done in barely two days with Grishar. The little blue guy made him feel young again. In his soul this time. Being a tiger these past weeks had brought youth back to him in the bodily sense, but joking around with Grishar he truly felt as if he had just started a completely new life. And Barton was thankful, so very thankful.

If only he could stay like this forever…

The fog had started to clear as Barton returned back to the camp. The others had woken up, but hadn’t gotten ready to move yet. It seemed that Nargi was preparing soup, whilst Grishar was yapping something at him in orcish. Allyria sat on the ground, cross-legged staring at a little flame in the palm of her hand. She put it out by clenching her fist, then lit it again as it opened. She looked up as he dragged the half-carcass towards the trio, some look of acknowledgement flashed her face, but her lips didn’t seem to have the spirit to move neither into a smile nor to form words.

Grishar however spun around and came running.

“Barton! You have food! I thought you is away, but you is on raid! Very good, next time take Grishar okay?” He hugged the tiger tightly, unknowingly succeeding in making Barton feel less guilty about killing the buck.

Seeing them have a hearty breakfast was a delight by itself. Grishar made use of one of his way too many knives to cut the meat from the bone and slicing it into thin pieces. Nargi put beetroots in some water in a pot, then started to make a fire. But the elf intervened, put her hands on the pot and made the roots cook in less than 20 seconds. She held out a hand to Grishar, took the meat from him and seared it. RIGHT IN HER HAND!

Wow, this was refreshing! An elf using fire magic! He had never heard of anything like it.

Barton realised his mouth was open and closed it just in time before anyone could notice.

“So you bend the flame, oh lady of blossom and growth.” He said, smiling.

Allyria threw him a look that consisted of a combination of hatred and pain. “Don’t EVER speak to me that way again!” she snarled in Barton’s mother tongue.

Whoa, that went deeper than I’d have imagined. Okay, no elvish in front of the lady, Barton noted.

“Sorry?” he volunteered, immediately looking at the others for any type of reaction. Grishar was still scraping his knife over the leg-bone of the buck, but Nargi… Nargi looked ready to kill him.

“What did you say?!” he demanded. Eyes filled with fury.

Barton hadn’t seen the orc like that, but he immediately understood why people were afraid of orcs. He was now too, for a second. Then he realised he was a huge tiger and surrounded by friends, so that fear went away as fast as it had come.

“Wow, Nagri… Relax! I said something nice in elvish, but I guess Allyria doesn’t like me speaking it. I won’t do it again, now please chill man.”

Nargi stared Barton down for a bit, then nodded politely and returned to what he was doing.

Barton was wondering where this came from. How had these people met, and what was the relationship between the orc and the elf? Was she an old friend he was protecting or was he… Auch, that was even painful to think about. So Barton stopped doing it.

“Something’s coming.” The orc said suddenly.

“Humans?” Grishar asked curiously, whilst jumping up and checking the arrangement of knives on his belt.

Nargi took a deep breath and paused a little before he said anything else. Allyria was still sitting on the log with a solemn look on her face. The goblin, pardon me, kobold started asking questions in orcish.

“Not humans, dwarves I think… And donkeys or horses or mules or something.” Nargi said thoughtfully.

“Oooh dwarves! I never meet dwarves! Do we raid them or be civilised?” Grishar shouted excitedly.

Barton was intrigued by the question. He had no idea what the bunch was into, but maybe they were highwaymen of some sort. He didn’t judge. Could be exciting. He sat silently, looking at everyone’s faces to get a clue of what kind of people his newfound friends were.

“Can we look? Can we? I want to see!” Grishar was looking at each one of them, like he was awaiting orders. But within a second and before anyone could answer, he ran off.

Barton looked at Nargi for a clue as to what the plan was, but the burly orc just sighed and started walking in the direction the little guy had taken off in. Barton took this as a prompt to run after Grishar. He had no idea of what to expect, but it sure as hell was interesting.

When he came up to the road, he could smell them too. This was new… He smelled a bunch of people, not human. He smelled delicious prey too. They were mules, he knew the scent since they had them in the village too. He wasn’t hungry but they still made his stomach twitch. Barton inwardly scolded himself for it, but forgave himself all the same. He was a tiger now after all, and he hadn’t killed them…. Yet.

He didn’t spot Grishar. Taking a deep breath of air, he still couldn’t spot him. He must be downwind, because the creature did have a distinct odour he should’ve been able to detect if otherwise. He turned his head to the left and in an intended soft voice that came out a bit like a low growl, said: “Grishar, where are you?”

“In leaves!” he heard the kobold shout. A bush about 8 yards along the path moved fiercely.

Barton stalked towards it and lay down flat beside the blue guy. “What are you planning to do?” he whispered.

“Do not know!” the goblin whispered back a little loudly. Then added: “I think us can raid them! But if they have female we be civilised!”

Okay, he was gong with the civilised again. Barton really didn’t know what to expect from civilised behaviour from the kobold at this point. Nargi had probably taught him the word, but what did that mean to an orc? And why would Grishar only be civilised if there were women on board? Barton guessed at a chivalrous answer, but eying the kobold realised he was probably wrong. It was time to ask the great question. What did HE want to do?

“Of course I’m gonna marry him, what, did you think I would marry you?! You disappoint me son! YOU? How could YOU be my friend? No that was just fun we had, don’t think more of it. Ah if it isn’t the old sheepfucker. Hey, he just got all the gold in from the wool trade. He doesn’t have any family, so maybe we should just split that up between us, what do you say? It’s not as if he can use the money when he’s dead… He’s a demon, kill him!”

He never was accepted, never respected, never loved. In his fifty years of humiliation he had had enough of ‘doing the right thing’, turning the other cheek.

“Grishar? Am I really your friend?”

The kobold immediately looked at him with his big yellow eyes and hugged him tight. “Yes Barton! You friend! You with us now!”

As Barton exhaled, he felt something wet and soft on his forehead. He looked up and realised Grishar had kissed him there. He stood there with a smug smile, still stroking the fur on his cheek. “This is for friends who are good. Not like with ladies. You are friend. And you are good.”

He looked the goblin, nay kobold, into his eyes and saw he meant it. Grishar really considered him a friend. And in that moment Barton decided that he’d go through any lengths for the guy. If he wanted to raid, he had a tiger on his side. If he wanted to do whatever he thought was civilised, he’d help.

“Don’t kill anyone okay, Grishar?”

“Okay.” The kobold immediately replied easily. A look of sincerity in his eyes.

Then the carts came into sight. There were two of them. Heavily packed with… metal he guessed. Three dwarves on each cart. They didn’t seem heavily armed, but dwarves were always armed, he knew that much.

“Tell me what to do.” Barton said.

“I go to back, if I talk you scare beatsies yes?”

Barton nodded, still not knowing what Grishar was aiming at, but he doubted Grishar knew himself. He crouched down in between the bushes. He was downwind, so the two mules had no idea, they seemed cheerful enough at the moment. As were the dwarves. They were talking amongst themselves, only the two drivers looking at the road. The rest was engaged in conversation.

Barton waited silently, but felt shivers creep up his spine. Good ones. This was going to be so exciting…