He pushed further into the labyrinth of gray stone. He suddenly realized that somewhere around here, Barsalla had perished, and with a twinge of sadness, he recalled his mother's face. One hundred years had given Trattam plenty of time to grieve, and he no longer felt the pain that he experienced in the first few days following his mother's death. But every so often, there would be something that reminded him of her, something that would summon a more muted sorrow.
He became so absorbed in his memories that he started when there came a loud rustling nearby. The Frost turned to the direction of the sound, only to find that it was caused by a solitary Slynx in passing. The feline gave him an inquisitive look before continuing on its way. Trattam mentally scolded himself; had that been an Earth tribe Paragon, he could have gotten jumped on out of the blue.
As if to emphasize the great danger of the situation, the light, familiar smell left behind by Fire tribe Paragon soon faded and was replaced by a heavier, sharper odor. This was the mark of the Earth tribe, a signal that denoted where the territories' borders met. Passing over this invisible line meant there was a chance that Trattam would meet an Earth tribe patrol, and as the only Fire dragon around, he would be severely outnumbered if they chose to fight him. He became increasingly worried for Telufahn as well. Could the Primal have made it this far? Was his dear friend already in the clutches of the Earth tribe? He prayed that this was not the case.