Uuuuurgh, annoying little typos......

Anyway, thanks guys here's the prologue!!!!! 

~Prologue~ 

Glaciar pulled her hood ever further over her head, the thrum of wind circulating beneath its folds.  

The marketplace was abandoned for the night, hundreds of vacant stalls still exhibiting the strong aroma of fish or spice.

A brushpelt booth loomed dangerously close to earth, hunched over like a vulture eyeing its prey.   Glaciar quickly shuffled past.  

A deserted storehouse rested a few yards from the Brushpelt's stall, the roof had collapsed yet the entrance remained intact, a sure sign the storehouse was being used regularly.  

Glaciar knocked. 

From inside she heard the unquestionable sound of talons scraping across stone, then a dragging silence.

"Name your business." A starchy voice croaked.

"Hunting for marmosets."  Glaciar answered sarcastically.

The voice on the other side pondered this for a what seemed like forever before he set to unlatching the entrance.   She counted each lock as they were unbolted.   Seven in all.  

The door groaned open ajar, revealing a bluntnosed Riverpelt.

He smiled, presenting two slender fangs protruding from his upper beak.  

"Gd'evening Chilly."

Glaciar ignored him "You have them?" 

He let out a menacing chuckle,

"Course I have em', promised didn't I?  I'll keep my share of promises long as there paid for." 

Glaciar winced.   His breath smelled like a pile of fish carcasses.

"Master would like a thorough inspection before we complete any transactions."

"Course he would."  He turned his back to her, giving Glaciar a moment to actually set eyes on him.  

His feathers were dulled and worn, barely glinting the aqua blue riverpelts were so known for.  He was scoured with an array of battle scars; a few still glimmering with fresh blood.  Half of his beak was missing as well, replaced with a metal prosthetic.  A casualty of one of his many "escapades" 

He removed a large crate from beneath the desk, thumping it across the tabletop like it was a sack of rocks.  

"These eggs are wurth a fortune chilly, no mercenary's ever got close to what I's done."

"Just open the box." Glaciar hissed.   

The riverpelt began cutting through the cords binding the lid to the crate.  

Glacier peered inside, her breath imediately caught in her throat.

Six perfectly preserved gryphon eggs sat comfortably in a bed of straw, each letting out a lustered glow.  

Hesitently Glaciar brushed a talon across the pearly shells, examining each egg's unique design.  

"A Stormpelt." She breathed.  

No normal gryphon ever saw a stormpelt without facing the consequences. 

"Yur entire order chilly." He slammed the lid back over the eggs, placing a scar-bitten talon on top of it.

"Now we go to the  delicate part of the prosedgure." He smiled darkly.  "Three thousand silvers for the whole batch."

Glaciar narrowed her eyes.  

"You said one thousand." 

He shrugged.  "Tell me when gryphon eggs start growin' on trees,  maybe I'll lower it."

Glaciar growled, "I could kill you right now without lifting a claw."

The Riverpelt smiled smugly.  "Oh but I know you won't do that, your little screech kills me but it kills your precious little eggs as well don't it."  

Glaciar glared at him.  Without averting her gaze she removed a drawstring purse from her hood's pocket and slammed it against the desk.  

"Keep the change." She hissed.  

The Riverpelt greedily snatched it up into his talons and began pouring the contents into his palm. A snarky grin playing across his face. 

Glaciar slipped the crate into her forlegs and started for the entrance.   Just as her talon pressed against the worn step she momentarily stopped barely flicking her fanned tail.  

The Riverpelt burst into screams, clawing violently at his neck as if a chain was being wrought around it.

The last image he saw was the silver figure as she slipped silently from the room.