"What are you?" Alana asked. Rokku simply maintained his stern visage, his gaze seemed to tell of anger, but truly, the spirit animal felt none of that. He was calm, and observant, he was the type to watch his foes, discern them and have them make a move before he made his.
Alana's eyes ran over Rokku again. It was unmistakable—he was a large rooster, unnaturally so, with mana that rivaled her own. The sheer density of it pressed against her senses, and for the first time since entering this miserable little village, she felt the cold tendril of genuine unease curl around her spine.
He is good enough to have mastered convergence. What am I facing here?
