Aeren soon met up with a group of adventurers, who were traveling to a nearby town. They invited him to join, and he gladly did, feeling reassured in the company of others. After many days of traveling, they came one evening to an inn on the outskirts of a quiet village. Quiet except for the unnerving scurryign of tiny clawed feet in the darkness. The party, upon speaking with the mayor, soon discovered the town was infested with rats. They agreed to help eliminate the rat problem, and were granted free room and board. As he slept, that night, an Idea dawned upon young Aeren. If the village was infested with giant rats, what better way to get rid of them than a giant cat? He spent the entire morning preparing, but at last he made ready with his spell. With a flourish (or as close to a flourish as a 13-year-old can get), he summoned forth his very first familiar. Agathe, as he called her, was a panther, approximately as tall as Aeren at the shoulder, and many times larger. At that time, Aeren had no idea what kind of commitment it was to bond a familiar, but for a time things worked out wonderfully. Agathe cared for Aeren like he was her own cub, and he, in turn, loved the great cat unconditionally. But childhood can be a cruel time, and Aeren was soon to learn the pain that comes from the loss of one so a part of one's self.

It was a small hunting party of Orcs that spotted a lost and frightened Aeren one night. He had become separated from the rest of the party, and could not hear or see their approach through the torrential rains. But Agathe could. She charged the orcs, ripping one in half before he could raise the alarm. The second, spotted her and cried out before he had his throat ripped out by the great cat. It was enough to warn the others. Through rain soaked hair, from behind a slick rock, Aeren watched his companion, the closest thing he had to family in this strange land, as she was skewered on half a dozen Orcish arrows. He let loose a scream that startled the orcs from their concentration. From behind a slick rock, one of the two orcs saw a shimmering ball of energy coalesce, and arc towards him at impossible speed. It impacted his chest, and the orc was flung several meters in the air before landing hard in a smoking heap. The last Orc, however did not panic at the sudden onslaught. He took aim and with a single motion nocked and let fly a single arrow. As the bodkin head pierced young Aeren's shoulder, it's poison spread rapidly. Aeren turned and managed to stumble a few paces, before collapsing in a puddle. As he lay there, Aeren could see the Agathe's outline traced in splashing raindrops and midnight black fur. Two black orbs, devoid of life, begged his forgivness. He gave it, and braced himself to feel the orcish blade plunge into his back. He heard himself scream. . . or was it his scream? No. It was the orc. With great effort, he turned his head just enough to see a cloaked figure sprinting through the rain, firing her own withering rain of arrows into the remaining Orc. He didn't see or hear the orc go down, he just felt the soothing presence of a friend.

===============Interlude=================