He would heed the call of the Gods, for they had given him an opportunity in which he could not refuse. There was nothing left to distract him from his destiny, and he found himself invigorated with a new drive, something that would make him want to be better, something that made him think that there had been some faith in him after-all. When he had been approached and given a task, he found himself waking up the very next morning, getting his chores out of the way, and then getting his mare, Tal, ready for an evening hunt. Things, in such regard, had been easier for Till, for he did not need to provide for a family that was no longer his. He did not bring food to Helena anymore, for he knew she had more than enough "friends" to provide her with food. He had not tried to win back her affection, no, he was above all of that. He had moved on easily, and these days, he barely thought about her.
That was not to be said that his mind had not been preoccupied with the thoughts of other women, for that would have been a lie, in all regards. He was not obsessive with his visiting, or his messages, for there was little reason to chance it. He would not chance anything getting out, not even rumors. He kept his distance from her in the public eye, and when he saw her, he often headed off in another direction. She was a mere slave, there was no reason for him to grace her with a 'hello', in public, nor was he obligated to even acknowledge her existence. He felt bad about having to ignore her, but he knew that she knew that it was all for appearances. They could not risk anything.
He threw over the leather saddle onto Tal's back, secured the belt, and made sure he had extra snacks in his saddlebags, in case he was out for longer than intended. He sighed lightly, thinking about how much busier he had been without Nephele's extra hand about. When he thought of her, he often became sad, and even when he looked at Spartacus, he also felt the pang of sorrow in his heart, knowing that he had been the one to put her to rest. She was the last thing of Dullahan that he had left, and he went and killed her. It was terrible, but it was nice to have no one question him of her death. 'Just one less slave', he supposed that they thought. It was sad, that no one really seemed to know Nephele like he did. He knew where she had come from, and that she spoke many languages. She had told him lots of things in their time together, and her death had not come lightly for Till, just as Ankh's had still haunted him to this day.
The one thing he regretted was that it was Nephele's throat that was crushed beneath his pink padded hands.
Till mounted his mare and nudged her sides with his heels, beckoning her towards the Ruins. He needed to recruit help for this hunt, and the heart of Salsola was the best place to call for it. He was not ashamed to have his packmates help him, for they should heed the call of their Henchman. Till was a fair hunting leader, he would send his patrons home with their worth in the hunt.
Tal had come to an abrupt stop once she had found her hooves go from dirt to stone, and she whinnied as Till pulled back on her reigns, causing the mare to rear back on her back legs for a moment and turn back towards the forests when her front hooves hit the ground once more. Till lifted his maw to the sky and called for any, young and old, to accompany him on this evening's hunt.