Shredder II
A message had been delivered to Gerard by one of the more nimble forest folk in the area. He often smiled as Chitter Tick bounded erratically from side to side, waiting for him to finish the brief note and offer a response. On more than one occasion, the small chigger had scolded the Ranger for dallying over a missive that was clearly marked as urgent, perhaps even life threatening. Nothing that was issued by the Forest Warden’s Guild was ever that critical, and if it were, there was a great certainty that it would be sent along its journey by some means of aviation, not the bounding skittering of a Chitter Tick. Still, Gerard took his work seriously, and upon receiving the message to rendezvous at a logging station a half day’s travel to the southwest, he sent his affirmation along with the Tick and began gathering his supplies in preparation for the journey.
The escort appeared to be a standard, non-classified guidance of three individuals through one of the touchier regions along the north end of the wastelands. The reasons Hallick had sent for him were quite reasonable, relative geographic proximity and the knowledge that Gerard had navigated the trails in question successfully at least half a dozen times over the last nine cycles of the moon. There was very little political motivation amongst the rangers, and more often than not, a task was assigned based on logistics and practicality rather than favoritism or bureaucracy.
Although reflecting on Hallick’s motivations, Gerard guessed he would have to reevaluate the Guild Ranger’s particulars and the loose bond of friendship they had formed over the years. A smile came to his bluish lips despite the ragged breathing and hurried footsteps of his flight. When he had taken on the task of guiding these three folks through the northern stretches, he never would have believed that emotion could influence such poor decision making. That is, until he met her.