Drasinatte paused when he reached the top of the sand dune. He narrowed his crimson eyes, scanning the vast, flat area beneath him, looking for signs of those strange creatures people had seen lately. Unfortunately, nothing resembling a moving patch of stars came into his vision. Or perhaps something was there, but it was too dark to see. The sun had set hours ago, and without any source of light other than a crescent moon and the faint glimmer of a town in the distance, it was incredibly hard to make out anything against the dark desert landscape. He frowned and stalked back in the direction he came from.
The Lost Ones, folks were calling those creatures. With patterns on their coats and hides resembling the night sky, they were said to have come from the Heavenly Vaults, cursed to walk on earth for an ancient wrong. If the stories were true, these beings could, in fact, be Seraphim.
And if they were Seraphim, Drasinatte wanted their blood on his claws.