Arry's rushed pace has slowed suddenly, and he seems to be walking cautiously now. Every time he lifts a foot he checks to see just where it might land afterwards. Finally, you can't stand his hesitance any more and you simply blurt out,"What're you doing?"

Arry jumps at your voice, as if he'd forgotten you wre there. With a meek smile he rubs the back of his neck and turns towards you,"We've entered the eoppa grounds."

You blink,"Eoppa?"

"They're small, odd little creatures. Very easy to step on if you aren't careful." Which was quite obviously why Arry was being careful.

"Ah,"he nod your head, but you still have no idea what an 'eoppa' is.

Apparently fate is on your side, and an odd 'squeak' sounds from the bushes nearby. Suddenly a little black thing darts out of the shrubbery and scampers across the path.

Arry shoots a foot out to hinder it, and it collides with his ankle. Good thing Arry wore sandals, not boots. As the eoppa shakes it's head, trying to regain it's where-a-bouts, you manage to get a good look at it.

What an odd little creature indeed!

There comes another squeak from behind you, this one deeper and more mysterious. You twist your body to see what made the noise.

Trotting gallantly out of the same bush is a tan-colored eoppa, bands of black stripes marking its fur. The most oddest part of its appearance is its eyes, blank and white, as if the poor dear didn't have a soul.

Arry bends down to pat the little black one, then straightens up again just as the second makes its way towards the first. They bump noses, and the black one twitches, as if frightened, but soon the pair is murring happily and loping down the path again.

"That was two of our many eoppas, Ea and Aeya if I'm correct." He stares out after them,"They're an odd pair, but they get along,"he pauses,"sometimes." Looking back up at you he quirks a smile, fingers curling around the handle of his lute,"They have something of a song, would you like to hear it?"

You nod your head enthusiastically. The music Arry played was beautiful, and you'd like to hear it again.

Arry crouches down in the grass and sets the lute in his lap. He strums a few chords, then begins to sing softly;

I'm from a land far away,
Where there are no angels,
And know one plays,
Memories are all I have,
No longer brightest as the day,
But they're dark, they're mine,
And slowly, slowly,
They turn grey,
In my head with ugly, prefect age