Private Tales Reunion of Wayward Winds

[Weylin Kyrel]

The shaman did not answer. Both had sheets of sweat already coating their skin. When the sage was offered it was taken quickly. The two began to speak to one another very frantically in the nomadic tongue. Totems were moved quickly about by the first shaman as the second one finally moved to forcibly hold Weylin down in one spot.

Then the first shaman began to quickly chant and offer up prayers to the spirits. The dried sage was caught on fire then waved in the air until it simply smoldered. Thick smoke with the heavy earthy scent of the sage was swirled so that it fell upon the shifting being.

The air in the area began to feel thicker than before. A slight tremor pulsing from the ground. It was clear the shaman's call was being answered but it was hard to say by what yet.

Weylin's shifting began to become even more erratic and energetic as the shaman began their ritual. His spirit, or some spirit that was a part of him, seemed to be reacting the call they made as well. Where the unknown one was accepting the call for aid, the one within the hunter seemed to be rejecting it completely. A fact that was reflected in how his already intense moans and cries of pain did what those gathered likely thought was impossible and became worse.

================================

Arok was getting more nervous as he listened to the words of the shaman as they spoke to each other. Exactly what was being spoken of was hard for the great bull to follow as he was no thinker as they were. While he might understand the words they shared he did not understand their meaning.

And it was this fact that frightened him the most.

The green skin was holding herself together far better than he. Was she one of them? The bull had thought her a young warrior like him, but the scene going on behind his back made him question if he had made the correct choice before. He had thought simply of the glory of saving a fellow.

What if he had just saved an orcish witch?

Zeri Rekani

 

[Zeri Rekani]

It was all Zeri could do. Watch, and hope.

Elsewhere, in stark contrast to twinned torments that she and Weylin were enduring, came the hoots and hollers of victory from the nomads. The lingering dust in the air was growing thin, whisked away by the wind without the furious stomping of hooves to belch more up from the ground to renew the haze. Smoke stacks from the fires set in key yurts rose toward the sky, these black columns ever the herald of death and destruction, and so too was the Sri'aht encampment marked.

Yet all of this was distant, even more than it already was. What was immediate, what was right here, was Weylin, his agony, his cries of pain, the terrible shifting and contorting of his body that just didn't seem to be able to stop.

Beneath the near total eclipse of her worry and dismay were the questions. The questions, the questions. None of which could at present be asked, and, if the shamans were not successful, would never have the chance to be asked. Perhaps foremost among them: what did this newfound power mean for Weylin? His life, and how he could live it? Things would never be the same, of course, but would they be, in some sense, all right?

She didn't know. She just didn't know.

Zeri stood on her one leg, her wounded leg slightly bent, toes to the ground, such that she put no weight on it. Her hands still covered her mouth, her nose. And she watched.

Pinched her eyes shut.

Then watched some more.

Weylin Kyrel

 

[Weylin Kyrel]

The pain was getting far, far worse for Weylin. In the haze of being between forms, it was all he was aware was true of himself right now. And it was beginning to consume his thoughts. Dog. Man. Neither was beginning to matter. All that did was the pain of the endless twisting and tearing and torture.... Was that the answer?

The hunter let out a scream as a surge of pain hit him. All previous thoughts lost and forgotten.

====================

The great bull was getting more anxious. Those screams were unnatural. No one could go through such pain and still have the will to live. Better a quick, clean death in battle than whatever this was. He still did not know and refused to look behind him to learn what it was.

His thoughts began to whisper to him all the reasons the green skin could be a witch. One who had placed a curse upon the one screaming. An accident by the inexperienced. Young warriors often whacked themselves with the shafts of their spears or slammed their maces into the side of their legs. It could be the same thing but with a witch's curse.

A dead centaur woman did lay nearby. The orc girl was under attack by a centaur when he found her.

It was all making too much sense....

====================

The shamans were struggling. Sweat poured down their faces. It required everything of them to keep the ritual going. The spirit that had answered their call had fully materialized itself. Those familiar with the spirits might recognize it as one of the earth. Sleepers that were slow to action normally, yet this one was active. Likely a result of the heated battle above its home.

The earth spirit took on the form of little bugs made from clay and rock and sand. It climbed upon the formless. A chaotic being in need of its stability. But it was being rejected. The soul of the one it was trying to comfort was different. It was not one but two things. Both equal parts of the singular whole. Not too different than the earth spirit's own division of its whole into many tiny forms.

But this being was not currently united. Both forms rejected the other.

=====================

The sensation of bugs crawling upon his skin brought about a new fear in the hunter. Was he being consumed like rotten fruit? Was his death certain? Was the endless dream upon him?

Would he being joining Mother Owl?

But it all the thoughts suddenly stopped. A calm slowly was seeping into his awareness. The tiny bugs no longer felt like they would dig into him. Instead they just felt like bumps of a whole....

A whole....

Slowly the previous thoughts before the pain returned. Neither form mattered. Tiny bumps of a whole. His self, his true self, began to finally take shape in his awareness. Man. Dog. Both were him. He was both. It was nothing but a physical form to house his true self. That would never change....

===================

The pair of shaman both suddenly collapsed and began breathing heavily. The ritual had broken them. They knew not if they had succeeded or failed. All they knew was any aid they could provide and all control they had was gone.

But the orcess might notice that the twisting had dramatically slowed down shortly after the ritual stopped. The cries of pain and agony lessened. It all just sort of began to fade away until all that was left was silence and a sleeping Weylin in the form of the man she had always known.

Zeri Rekani

 

[Zeri Rekani]

Though Zeri couldn't explain what she was seeing, she trusted the shamans and their work. Rarely, on a number of occasions that she could count with one hand alone, had she seen the magic of the shamans of Bhathairk, and each time the look of it had been different. As it was now. The earthen bugs did not disturb her, neither from their strangeness nor their insectoid form--wouldn't have even if her mind was not gripped with such wrenching worry.

Magic, the arcane, mystical powers, these were things beyond her. But she need not understand the how of it, what these two shamans were doing for Weylin. It only mattered that the spell worked.

And she waited.

Worried.

Waited.

Until both of the shamans collapsed, at which point her arms tensed up and her shoulders shifted in close and tight toward her neck. "Oh no! No, no, no! Are--are you alright? W-What happened! Wha--??"

She gasped. Eyes wide with fear and elation. Fear that it might not be true, elation that it surely had to be.

Her hands slipped down slowly from her nose and her mouth. Dropped off of her chin and descended down to her sides. She tried to take a step on her injured leg and it gave out immediately and she stumbled down to her good knee and she crawled like that, on her hands and on her serviceable knee, carefully and cautiously over to the yurt by which everything had been happening and where it had all stopped and where there was no longer a shifting malformation but the solid, unchanging body of a human.

Zeri stopped just short of him. Sat haphazardly on her rear with her injured leg stretched out and the other bent. She briefly reached out before retracting her hands, deathly afraid all of a sudden of touching him without knowing.

"Weylin...?"

Drifts of dust and smoke blowing overhead.

Weylin Kyrel

 

[Weylin Kyrel]

The hunter just slept. No response for the orcess as she called out. Only the passive figure of one who's body was too exhausted to remain awake. Only the passive figure of one who's mind was too exhausted to remain awake. He was a dreamer right now, but one who would return to the land of the waking. No repeat of the tragedy of Mother Owl.

The shaman was beginning to catch his breath. His body and mind also exhausted from the effort demanded by the ritual and the fluid nature of spirits. The spirit of the earth already returned to its rest. The other human was in much the same shape as the shaman, only less mentally fatigued.

"He is alive and returned to his proper form." The shaman responded to Zeri in a voice reflecting his fatigue.

"Human form. Both are proper." The other snapped back in a tired tone.

The shaman looked to the other man. "My apologies wild one. He is returned to his human form."

The other just nodded to the shaman in acknowledgement and acceptance of the apology. Then he attempted to stand up with some trouble. He barely succeeded. Moving over to the orcess he looked at her leg then to her face. "Have you treated your wound yet? I can treat it if not. Waking to his mate being injured might upset him too much. His first time went badly."

The man looked down at Weylin. A frown was upon his face. "He got lucky. Could have ended worse as it does for many like him."

The shaman looked from the hunter to the other man. "Worse than that?"

The man looked to the shaman. "His forms could have stayed blurred."

Then the man made some motions of ears and a tail. His movements and expression completely serious.

Zeri Rekani

 

[Zeri Rekani]

Zeri glanced back at the nomad shaman. Relieved that he and his fellow (from where had he come, the second one?) were alright. Magic was as wonderful as it was frightening, this scale in constant flux depending on circumstance. It was a world all of its own draped over the mundane expanse of Arethil. She'd no aptitude for it, did not understand much, but she did know that, like those morning runs she used to take in Bhathairk in which she would all-out sprint at the very end and come to a stop exhausted, so too did a similar kind of exhaustion grip those who used immense arcane power. But they were okay, the two shamans, and that was good.

Proper form, though? Both are proper? Zeri's eyebrow arched in bewilderment, and her eyes went in search for answers by scouring the ground about her legs. What...what could that mean? How could both be proper? Was he a man or was he not? Zeri herself was half orc, half elf, but she was always that, her form was always just that--she was not fully an orc with the ability to "shift" into an elf or vice versa. The idea was foreign, not completely alien for she had heard of the Nordenfiir folk who lived in the cold northeast tundra, but here, now, confronted with it, she found it disturbing. It did not sit very well with her.

Still, she was glad to see Weylin. Back as he was, not as some amalgamation, and free of that awful pain.

The nomad shaman stood and spoke to her about her leg. A slight flash of objection crossed her face when he said "mate"--why do people always just assume that? She let it pass without comment.

"It was t-treated a little bit." Zeri gave an appreciate nod back to Arok. Said further to the shaman, "I got st-stabbed through with a spear, there's a-a-a...big hole in my leg. Still. The pain is numbed, somewhat, but it still hurts."

Their talk turned back to Weylin, and the other shaman--the one who was not a nomad, and the one whose arrival was as yet a mystery to Zeri--said something which troubled her greatly. That Weylin could have been...oh gosh...blurred in-between.

She looked to the mystery shaman. Asked in a small voice, "Will it...the shifting...will it happen again?"

Weylin Kyrel

 

[Weylin Kyrel]

The mystery shaman bend down and began to take a look over her leg. As he did, she spoke and the first shaman moved over to take a look as well. The spear wound was uncovered and the first shaman made a "uh huh" sound of recognition. He began to pull out supplies to begin treating it. One of which was a bone needle and sinew.

The first shaman said as the mystery one held down Zeri's leg, "Don't have anything for the pain. Need to bare it."

And then he got her wound cleaned up and the needle to begin stitching her back up in hand.

The mystery shaman looked to Zeri after her question. A bit of a frown on his face and a bit of confusion. The first shaman and Arok didn't look at them, but it was clear they also were waiting for the answer.

"Yes. All our kind will. Most of his do." The mystery shaman replied back.

Before Zeri could reply, the first shaman said, "I'm beginning."

The mystery shaman braced their grip. The needle pierced through Zeri's skin.

Zeri Rekani

 

[Zeri Rekani]

All our kind will. Most of his do.

For what little these two statements illuminated, more questions inevitably sprung up to replace those answered. The mystery shaman was not an "Old Folk," what she had come to know Weylin as, even if her understanding of the Old Folk was severely lacking. But she never would have guessed that the Folk were part...and part...

I'm beginning.

She'd but a fleeting second to snap her bow up to her mouth and to bite down on the wood. And when the needle first pierced into her skin, her pointed incisors sank into the wood as her whimper was muffled by it. Agonized tears edged at the corners of her closed eyes.

Like the nomad shaman had said, all she could do was bear it.

Weylin Kyrel

 

[Weylin Kyrel]

The stitches were sewn into Zeri's thigh quickly and tight. It was beautifully done even if on a canvas of flesh rather than one of cloth. Once he had the front hole finished up, he looked to his companion that had helped to keep her still through the whole process.

"Did it go all the way through?"

The second shaman slide his hands around to the back of her leg and felt around until he came upon the exit wound. Then he nodded to the first shaman. Both men looked at the orcess. It was obvious what was about to be said, but it was still going to be said.

"Need you to lay on your belly so I can close the other end of the wound." The first shaman said to her.

The second let go of her so she could move freely and find a comfortable way to lay down for the second round of stitches.

"Let us know when you are ready." The first shaman said looking at Zeri still. Then his attention turned to the second shaman. A question was already on his face before he spoke. "You and the young man aren't the same kind. What is he if not one of the feral kin?"

The second shaman frowned a bit at the question, but not out of any anger or frustration. It was the kind of frown one makes when there is a misunderstanding and you know why it happened.

"We are the same kind. Both of us wild men, but he is of mixed blood. Half human. Half wild."

The first shaman frowned a bit now at this. "A half breed? Why does that matter?"

The second shaman was quiet a moment as he mulled over if he should answer or not. But he soon enough spoke. "We pure bloods never have difficulty with our first change. It brings a sense of wholeness after we do. Mixed bloods always have difficulty with their first change. Many change back to their human form fully after a rough few tries. Many are unable to change back fully and are stuck with traits of their animal form even in their human form.... But some become permanently stuck in their animal form."

The second shaman looked over at Weylin as he lay asleep on the ground. "This one was lucky. I have never heard of a mixed blood go through that rough a change without becoming stuck in their animal form or dying. Even more so considering his age."

"His age?" The first asked completely absorbed in their conversation.

"His first change should have occurred shortly after his body began to mature into adulthood. Those who don't experience it until his age either never will or become stuck in their animal form. Rarely do they make it with only traits. Never has one made it through with their human form the same as before the change. Another reason this one was lucky." The second said still looking at Weylin.

The two had completely forgotten about Zeri in their conversation. If she had tried to speak then she would have found herself ignored. But with things seeming to be wrapped up, the pair of shamans became quiet for several moments as thoughts ran through each of their minds. After they returned back to the doctoring of her wound.

The second shaman would place his hands back on her leg like before to hold her still. The first would give the same warning and then begin to stitch the exit wound as he had the entrance. All of this would occur if she was ready by the end of their conversation.

Zeri Rekani

 

[Zeri Rekani]

The bow slipped out of Zeri's mouth (teeth marks upon it) and her head rolled back on her shoulders and she panted for ragged breaths, eyes weak in their upward gaze and failing to track the movement of the clouds above. Her cheeks glistened and she meekly reached up with her arm to rub the trail of tears away. When her arm fell she in that moment looked far older than her meager nineteen years, her face beset with an exhaustion that seemed to have stolen a whole swath of her life.

Did it go all the way through?

"Oh...oh gosh..."

Her first thought, naturally, was not again. But she knew that it needed to be done, that she would be in great peril if the initial care for her wounds was not performed. So she nodded to the nomad shaman, however sheepishly, and then gradually built up the resolve and strength to turn herself around and to lay on her belly. She reached behind her for the shortbow and brought it close and ready to bite into once the stitching had begun.

Thankfully, it was not quite yet, and she'd another moment of respite as the shamans talked. Respite from the physical though it might be, their talk was something that further stoked the embers of worry.

She did ask a question, and she was ignored, and she said no more, falling into a tight-lipped silence. This silence blended seamlessly into the shamans' own once their talk had ended.

Elsewhere, rallying shouts could be heard as the nomads throughout the encampment were wrapping up their pillaging and burning. They were gathering together again, making ready to depart as one back to Arrow's End.

Zeri braced herself when she felt the mystery shaman's hands holding her leg down and still. Again she brought the wood of the shortbow into her mouth and clamped down with her teeth. Three quick breaths through her nose, in and out, in and out, in and out, and Zeri could only await that awful--and necessary--sting of the needle.

Weylin Kyrel

 

[Weylin Kyrel]

In and out. In and out. In and out.

The needle wove through her flesh as if it was thick cloth. Silence remained between the two shaman as they each focused on their parts of the task. Thankfully for the orcess it would prove to be over with quickly.

The last stitch done, the first shaman slapped Zeri's uninjured leg as a sign he was done. Thoughts seemed to be racing through his head preventing the more appropriate and less embarrassing words to come out. The second shaman noticed the action and so let go of her.

Turn his attention to Arok, the second shaman said, "Warrior, find a wagon for the injured. They won't be fleeing on foot."

The big bull finally turned back to look at what he had been trying so hard to ignore. A snort escaped him. The first shaman responded for him before he could utter his own words, "Throw your loot in the wagon and find horses to pull it. Time is short."

Arok hesitated a moment as he looked down upon Zeri and Weylin, the injured. Soon after his cheerful smile returned and he beat his chest as he said, "Arok will do this gladly! Great glory in helping the spirit speakers!"

And then the great bull took his chance to leave. Off he disappeared into the dust, smoke, and yurts hopefully to bring back a wagon and horses to carry them out of the burning camp of death.

Once the minotaur was out of sight, the first shaman turned his attention to Zeri, "Do you have loot to take back? I can gather it for you. Stay laid down and rest for now."

The second shaman began to look around them as the first was addressing the orcess. His attention once more had returned to the raid rather than this small scene within it. The moment the first finished speaking, the second said, "I will scout for more Sri'aht nearby."

And then before the two of them his body twisted in the way Weylin's had been doing into a hawk and he was off into the sky.

Zeri Rekani

 

[Zeri Rekani]

The stitching was done, and Zeri's face was flushed with strained concentration and coated with sweat. New bite marks dotted the bow as her mouth loosened and it fell away. Her head sank in exhaustion, her forehead touching the dirt and trampled grass.

She looked like a mess. She knew she looked like a mess. What would Pa think if he could see her now, out on her own, her first steps away from Bhathairk leading her ultimately here to an encampment of centaur and into the middle of a fierce raid, leaving her as grievously injured as she had ever been before. Gosh, he would be beside himself with worry. Yet this is what she wanted to do, to venture forth and see Arethil, that small taste of it when she'd gone to the Spine in search of an Edelweiss and where she had first met Weylin having proved to stoke only a more voracious appetite. There would be many wonders, and, she knew, there would be many dangers as well.

Do you have loot to take back?

Zeri lifted her head from the ground, looked back and up as much as she could to glance at the nomad shaman. "No, I don't. I'm just..." She rolled over and came to sit, propping herself up with her arms. Looking to Weylin. "I'm just glad that he's okay."

* * * * *

CLOSE TO ARROW'S END​

The wagon rocked slightly as it hit some small bump in the ground, and Zeri swayed along with the motion. The Steppe, with its flush grassland, had been a remarkably smooth ride for the most part. The large, semi-permanent town of the Steppe nomads was ahead, and the late afternoon sun remained unblemished from clouds.

All about the wagon was the raiding party, the clomping of over a hundred horses a steady rhythm and constant din. The warriors had laden their horses with the spoils they had taken from the Sri'aht, adding in the clinking and clattering and jingling of metal and coins and treasures and all manner of things to the legion of hoofsteps. What the Sri'aht had taken from their raids, so now had the nomads taken for themselves.

But Zeri, like she had said to the shaman, had taken nothing. She had gone for Weylin, and she was returning with him. Goodness...it had been...nearly nonstop, hadn't it? Ever since Neha's rising and Zeri's world being turned upside-down. If she ever did make it to Alliria in her journey, the grand city in the middle of the world that she had always wondered about seeing in person, she would have to make it a point to relax for a good long week. But probably before then. Probably, yeah. Alliria was a long ways away, and she'd been through enough peril as of late to warrant a calm day or two.

Zeri, sitting in the wagon beside Weylin as he lay, thinking not of what she had witnessed happen to him and only that he was safe now and that things were going to be okay, laid a hand on his head and ran her fingers down into his hair.

"Almost there."

She looked out ahead to the tents and yurts the raiding party was approaching. And she stroked Weylin's hair some more.

"Almost there."

Weylin Kyrel

 

[Weylin Kyrel]

The shaman frowned a bit at the orcess' words. The idea of no loot seemed to bother him. Idly he looked about and noticed the dead centaur near by. Then his attention went back to Zeri. "I will gather things from the nearby yurt for you as loot. You killed her?"

The shaman pointed to the young centaur dead on the ground. He didn't wait for an answer from her. It seemed he already made up his mind what it was. Instead he just got to his feet and gathered up the belongings on the dead woman. Weylin's necklace with his parent's rings, his father's sword, and the centaur's spear were placed before the orcess. His eyes seemed to notice the collar around Weylin's neck.

"He belongs to you now as well." The shaman said looking to Zeri. His eyes seemed to trying to tell her to just agree and not argue with him. Then the shaman was off to gather loot.

===========================================

They neared Arrow's End. Arok had indeed found a wagon and horses for them. Loot was already in it when he returned. Seemed the Great Bull had gathered a bit in his search and back. The shaman had taken some jewelry made from gold and colorful stones as well as a sack filled with grain. The hawk shaman had returned to them as well, but had no loot to his name. The idea of robbing the dead seemed to bother him when asked.

For Zeri the nomad shaman had gotten her some jewelry as well, but only some of it was gold. Most of it was made from bone with etchings in them. He claimed they held magical power, but only someone gifted in magic could confirm this for her. What was more important was he had gathered up for her supplies for her journey back home, and it was enough for two people.

The wagon, being drove by the hawk shaman, slowly began to pass through the first row of tents of the settlement. As they did there was a sudden burst of movements that threw them around. The shaman got the horses to stop then looked over the side of the wagon. A spit followed and a sour look on his face.

"Wheel broke. Should have known. Centaur never keep care of wheels." The shaman said out loud more to himself than to let Zeri know what was happening as he hopped off the driver seat to attend the broken wheel.

Zeri Rekani

 

[Zeri Rekani]

The wagon rocked again, much like it had earlier, only more pronounced and this time as well the wagon was listing slightly to one side. The hawk shaman said aloud what had happened: a broken wheel. So it was that the wagon would be as a boulder, coming to rest here for a while.

She sighed. It was a small inconvenience, considering all that had come before it, but still it felt like a thumb to the eye. Still. She was safe, Weylin was safe, and that was what mattered most. The battle had been harrowing, but...what would she have even done if she wasn't able to rouse the nomads of Arrow's End to action? It was to her good fortune that they had a latent willingness to fight the Sri'aht centaurs for their own reasons, and really it was the only thing which enabled this to happen. If they hadn't? If Zeri was alone in her endeavor? There...there just wouldn't have been anything she could have done. Weylin would have been at the mercy of his captors, and that would have been the end of it. The thought of such utter powerlessness sent a shiver down her neck, her shoulders, her arms--it reminded her of Neha.

She pushed all that aside. There were still things to do.

"I'll be back. Okay?" she said to Weylin with a final pat on his forehead. He was unconscious, but she liked to think that her words, the care in which she said them, got through to him anyway. More often than not it was all that she had to offer when he was like this, and so she did offer them. A small thing with, hopefully, a big impact.

Zeri, quite gingerly, began to climb down from the back of the wagon. It was staggering how much one could become accustomed to the throb of pain from a wound when it was constant and ceaseless, but she dared not aggravate it by placing much weight on her injured leg.

The nomad shaman had brought her jewelry as loot from the raid, and Zeri didn't care for any of it. Not the golden jewelry, and especially not the supposedly magical jewelry. That bracelet which Weylin had made for her, while she had it, was nicer than all of it. But, maybe she could barter with the jewelry for the duration of her and Weylin's stay at Arrow's End.

No sooner had Zeri's foot touched the ground did she see a familiar face. Nomads were streaming past the broken down wagon on their horses and entering further into Arrow's End, but among them Zeri saw someone, and he saw her.

Samujin, flanked by others of his clan, halted his horse and regarded Zeri with that same dismissive disdain that he showed her before.

But she just had to know. As she held onto the back of the wagon and stood on one foot, her other hand clutched to her breastbone, she asked forcefully, "Why didn't you help me? What have I ever done to deserve your ire?"

Samujin just looked at her for a lingering moment. Turned his head to the side without breaking eye contact and spat. Turned his head forward again. And answered venomously, "Make haste from here, and never return. Orc."

And Samujin continued on with his clansmen into Arrow's End, Zeri left vexed beside the broken wagon.

Weylin Kyrel

 

[Weylin Kyrel]

The hunter was still out cold. The toll of his transformation was high, even if the hawk shaman had been adamant about how lucky he had been. The shaking of the wagon effected him as much as everything else did. He was lost within himself as his body attempted to repair the great damage it had taken while he tried to keep himself together.

==================

Arok had escorted the wagon containing Zeri and Weylin back to the camp personally. He had learned what had taken place was no magic nor curse. It was something to do with the feral ones. The green skin was just a warrior as he only she was still fresh. She had claimed a kill during the raid and even had loot to show for it. Great prizes as well, such as the jewelry to block evil curses and hexes. He had thought to ask for one, but it never felt right. Not with the not a human still sleeping in the wagon.

The wheel broke, the orcess left, and then the confrontation with Samujin occurred. He spat out a warning to her before attempting to leave. The great bull remembered one of his objectives from when he arrived.

With a big smile upon his face, Arok yelled at Samujin's back, "Ah the coward flees again! If only your weapons were as sharp as your tongue then you might have the spine to answer for your shame!"

===================

Weylin dreamed of his home. The one he shared with his parents. It was the only home he had. There was nowhere for him after it had burnt down. The house. The trees. The garden. All of it still sturdy and lived in.... But his parents were not there. No one was there. It was empty as he was.

Around it all he had explored. Everything looked the same from the outside. Nothing was wrong. It was just no one else was around. He was alone. All alone....

A noise behind him. The hunter turned to look and saw a great brown dog. It was walking straight towards him. Fear welled up deep inside. It was here to replace him. It was here to become him. He needed to escape it. To find help.

So he ran for the door of his home. He threw it open without a pause and rushed inside.... Everything was charred and ruined. It was the home he had left behind. All his memories set ablaze in that great inferno of screams and blood. His father dead and buried. His mother dead and buried. Neither of them together or where they should be. Both lost to the wild in an unknown place that he would never forget.

He turned to leave. The door was gone. He was trapped within the crumbling place. He turned back around and the dog was there. It sat opposite him staring at him. Just staring at him.....

Zeri Rekani

 

[Zeri Rekani]

Samujin and his kin stopped after Arok called out to him. Zeri gasped when she saw, glancing from Samujin to Arok with a brow creased with worry. She held onto the back of the wagon with one hand, and the other hovered over her mouth anxiously.

Samujin looked back over his shoulder, and to Arok he said, "The mercy I have granted the she-orc was never shown to my people from her own."

With that, Samujin snapped the reins he held and bid his horse forward once more. His clansmen followed, and all filtered in with the rest of the nomad raiding party entering further into Arrow's End.

Mercy. From one people to another.

Zeri couldn't see Weylin from outside the wagon, but she looked where she knew he lay. The thought, laden with guilt, of what happened to Weylin's home. That same fear, despair, and rage that she had felt when Neha, a dragon, devastated Bhathairk, surely it had been the exact same for Weylin, for his family, for the others of his community when...when orcs came to their settlement. That tense moment when they had first met, Weylin holding her at the point of a readied arrow; that shock when Weylin told the sorrowful story of what had happened to his home; these came back to Zeri. Struck her, and struck her hard. Weylin, Zeri, and even Samujin had all suffered immensely, when one people showed no mercy to another.

Could wounds like these ever be healed? Were her own?

As the last of the nomad raiding party was going by, Zeri stood in troubled contemplation behind the wagon.

And then, slowly, she started to limp along. Shelter, food, her belongings, medicine and healing, all of these she would need to attend to while Weylin slept.

Weylin Kyrel

 

[Weylin Kyrel]

Weylin just sat staring at the dog in that crumbling charred cage he once knew as home. Neither moved. Neither looked away. Neither made a sound....

============================

The Great Bull was approached by members of other tribes after the confrontation with Samujin. He gladly answered their questions and spun a wild tale of how the orcess was pinned by a great warrior of the Sri'aht tribe. When Samujin approached and was challenged to a duel, the man turned and fled like a coward. The act leaving his ally, the green skinned girl, to the mercy of this champion of the Sri'aht. And how it was Arok who answered the challenge and saved her before helping her finish her great quest to cure her friend of the vile curse placed upon him by the Sri'aht shamans.

The tale was a bit grandiose, but it was interesting so soon enough it began to spread. Rumors of Samujin's cowardice in the face of the Sri'aht and refusal to save an ally. Many would question the details of what happened. The nomads enjoyed good stories but were not stupid. But none of them questioned the part about how Samujin left behind an injured ally who was out trying to save another. People began to wonder if the man would abandon them as well during a raid or skirmish.

===============================

The wagon's wheel was fixed shortly after Zeri began to limp. The hawk shaman helped her back into the wagon and then got back into the driver seat. Once more it was slowly trundling along into the heart of the camp.

"Orcess, I'll find a healer for you and him. Rest until then. You have done enough for today. His life is safe now. You saved him. But until you leave this place do not remove his collar. He is your slave by right of killing his previous owner in combat. The tribes will respect that, but they won't if you try to free him."

A group of tribesmen they past were gossiping amongst themselves as they past. The rumor of Samujin's cowardice and betrayal was already on their lips. Once mentioned they were already onto the next feat and disgrace by others.

"I will find trustworthy merchants for you to trade with as well. He has nothing and you look in need of more things. Get what you need and leave quickly. Arok has done you no favors telling everyone about Samujin abandoning you. He may seek revenge the way it is spreading."

And with that the hawk shaman went quiet once more. All he said he would do was done. A pilgrimage heading East towards Bhathairk was found and passage for the pair was made. The two would be out before Samujin could seek out any vengeance on Zeri. Arok may yet have gotten his fight.

Zeri Rekani