Tars sees the boy draped across the saddle and calls out,

"Is he dead?"

"No." Tabras brings his thoat around and dismounts in one fluid gesture. "He's tired."

Nitwit trundles through the center of the band and heads straight for the thoat paddocks. There's moss and water there. And he's hungry.

Tars watches the thoatling as it goes passed. "Well, at least he brought the beast back alive."

"Oh and he killed a devil's snare. Or at least he claims to. He was carrying a beak with him when we found him."

One of the warriors presented the trophy to Tars. He turned it over in his hands. "He is truly of Jasoom, then. A descendant of Dotar Sojat. He will be revered as such." He turns to his household and shouts, "Prepare us a feast worthy of such a guest!"