In spite of his protests that he wasn't a storyteller, Altair wouldn't be rushed in the telling. He chuckled at Alecta's question. "Oh, for the entire first day, we saw very little at all. We killed a few wolves, of course, but nothing that might have been mistaken for a moose. It was getting late and starting to look like rain, so we set up camp in a clearing and settled in for the night.
"I had just drifted off when I heard a bloodcurdling scream from the poor young man who'd been assigned first watch. I leaped out of bed with my gun and boots and hurried out to see what it was—and you'll never believe it. There was no moose after all. It was a Mousse—a Chocolate Mousse, in fact, with antlers."
Shaking his head in amusement, Altair took a sip of his own watered-down wine. "Our mage dispatched it in fairly short order, once I boosted his magic and Berserked the thing to keep it from casting."