They found Elder Moss three kilometers outside the Ironmane settlement's eastern edge.
He had not stayed far after Marak's expulsion order came through.
Elder Moss was a wolf-folk, older than any Owen had encountered in Vashari. His muzzle was white. His grey eyes had stopped trying to look alert and had settled into something else entirely.
He was sitting cross-legged in the Ashplain grass when they found him, staff across his knees, apparently waiting.
"Young Dragon," he said, without opening his eyes. "You smell exhausted... Did you use a power that has a significant cost?."
"You can smell that????" Odessa said.
"I can smell mana..." Elder Moss said, opening his eyes. "At my age, the senses expand into registers younger people haven't developed yet." He looked at Owen with those clear, ancient eyes. "Sit. We have things to discuss and you need to recover before you do anything else requiring significant output."
Owen sat.
