Adventure of Herrid 2

The tournament noise thins to a distant murmur as Herrid reaches the shaded bench. Cool stone eases the heat of the grounds, and his three creatures settle around him in a loose, quiet ring.

Nog drops first, folding his heavy forearms and resting his head on them like a great green boulder. Anoa fluffs her blue fur and tips her long ears back, still pleased with herself. Jar stands a pace behind Herrid, broad as a wall, watching the lane without moving.

For a moment, the team simply breathes. The open gate, the clerk’s table, and the first dummy moving down the course all sit at the edge of sight, but none of them demand anything now.

Jar gives a low, steady grind from deep in his clay body, the sound of a guard taking his post. Herrid has a rare stretch of calm, with all three beside him and the next trial still waiting.

Herrid leans in toward the ring of them, voice low over the canvas shade. He tells Nog the run was solid, Anoa that her control held, and Jar that his guard never wavered.

He adds that the battles ahead carry no need for strain, only the best placement they can win. The words land plainly, without flourish, and the tension around the bench loosens a little.

Jar lowers his stony chin in a slow, approving dip, the grinding note in his chest easing into a calmer hush.

The first dummy clacks farther along the lane, still training itself into the next pass, while Herrid's team settles into the pause with steadier breath. Even so, Nog flicks his ears toward the course and asks if the next run starts soon.