Private Tales See the Trees, Lose the Forest

[Crocus]

Crocus had done little more than asked of her. Securing the population of wild hares that settled throughout the sections of her betrothed's forest. Grazing upon the fruits of a berry tree before making haste to the southern tip of the continent and staring longingly across the sea.

The wind whipped around her, splaying her hair this way and that behind the mask she wore. The salty, cool air breathing life across the frozen but thawing ground around her. The small place with which the bear shifters called home something of a hidden thing given the sometimes hostile greetings one received upon first arrival. Not that she could entirely begrudge the bear shifters.

They liked their somewhat secluded existence. Those that didn't sought their chances elsewhere. A place they called the mainland. Where she had heard rumors of bountiful wealth and exuberant displays of nature being had. She longed to gaze upon something other than the desolate, wind blasted wastes that held its beauty for so little a time. To experience something other than the old magics that lingered in the land save for the bear shifters themselves.

They were a sight to behold surely. But the mystique wore off as one might shrug off a thick coat indoors.

The pine branch cloak was warm as she sat and watched with some time to waste before she had to return. The mossy inner lining keeping the worst of the prickly knobs from digging into her flesh as she sat in silence and watched the sea for a while. The small shape of something bobbing in the water drawing her eye as she tilted her head slightly. Behind the bone mask, she squinted before closing her hand into a tube and placing it over her eye as best she could.

What seemed to be a boat was drawing closer to shore though such a thing this far from the fishing village was a strange sight. She drew small runes in the snow beneath her bare feet, mumbling a few words as she drew twined rope from grass out of the snow. It wouldn't harm the sleeping shoots to have a few strands plucked from here, but if she needed more she would have to find a different spot as she wound it around her arm in a loop.

The magicks with which Crocus scoured were unlike most. A more base and elder thing that tapped the lines unseen to the eye, and untouched by most mortal beings. Eyes behind the bone mask set upon the boat as she dipped down into the bank and waited for it to draw near enough to spot the occupant.

A lost bear shifter? A normal mortal cast adrift? Both strange and unlikely as she stood in the water just beyond shore, the green shape of her branch cloak and the bone mask standing out against the grey crag the boat drew near.

 

[Sarah Lindwell]

The waves smashed against the sides of the small craft. Every time they did so the boat jostled Sarah's twisted leg, and each time it sent streaks of flaming pain up through her hip. Her right arm hung limply under her cloak. Her good foot pushed up against the quarter step in the rowboat. Her good hand giving the one oar a death grip. Her blade, a trusted and valued friend, laid on the ground next to her. The last think in the boat was a pack with a month's worth of provisions that sat behind her.

Her breath came heavy and ragged. She had rowed alone through the Empty Straights (name may change if incorrect) between the Blightlands and Eretejva. Rumours had come to her through the wandering orcs that there lied shapeshifters and witches to the north. That these creatures used strange magics that came to them naturally.

Slowly the boat jerked to a stop, her lone oar getting snug in the sand under the water. She sat there for a moment. The cold northern air nipping at her nose. Her hair was tied up under her hood. Only a few of the golden strands being tugged on by the wind.

She gripped the side of the boat. She rolled over the side as to get her good leg over first. Her teeth clacked and ground together, the cold of the water spreading through her padded armor and weighed down even more by the plates of steel that covered her limbs. Feeling a firm pile of sand under the surf Sarah began to lift her twisted limbs out of the small boat. Her bad leg was lifted just barely pass the boat's edge when the water was dragged back out. It took the sand under her foot with it.

A shriek, of both shock and pain curdled against the rocky shore. Sarah tasted the salty sand. The ocean water tearing in the ever present cracks of her burnt skin. The hungry waves pulled her hood free, her golden locks spread out over the water. With groaning effort she pushed her back up against the wooden boat. Silent tears streaking down her face. With both effort and cold-numbed pain she dragged her half-corpse up.

She was drenched now. As much a death sentence here as it was on the waterlocked edges of the Blightlands. Glancing up Sarah realized her misfortune had grown. She had been aiming for the village around Eretejva's portal stone, but there was no village in sight. Just cold, windswept plains with a few gnarled trees. Boulders were strewn across the grass fields, wild animals in the distance. Far afield, roughly three leagues as the crow flies, was the foot of a forest. But no buildings.

Sarah steeled herself. Her eyes opened to show renewed determination. She had a goal here and she had been through worse. What was a little cold after Molthal's molten flames?

With deft movements, as if practiced for this purpose, she tied her sword belt around her armoured waist. With the pack slung over her shoulder she dragged her lame leg up to the bone dry shore. Her waterlogged clothes becoming unbearably cold as she moved.

It was then that she saw it. A figure standing on the rocks. How she had missed it, Sarah did not know. It wore bleached bone in place of a helmet. A thick green cloak hung around its shoulder, made of branch and twig and pine. The smell of the woods drifted off from it, like a welcoming hand. It just stood there, watching.

"Are you one of the bear-folk?" Sarah's voice came out stuttering and weak. The cold was clawing into her bones. But her eyes still held that sharp sapphire glint.

 

[Crocus]

She watched the boat come in. Watched the occupant with their strange armor and gear do what they could to leave the boat with what seemed an injury. Keen eyes observed the movement. Unmoving as she looked over the stranger.

Waited.

Until the stranger spoke finally, startled by her presence. Though still fiercely showing their pride despite the injury. Akin to the bear shifters they inquired of. Prideful beings that weighed themselves on their abilities in war and other tests of strength.

The Mask shifted only slightly as she gazed at the boat beside them. The hollow sockets showing the slightest signs of human eyes behind them. A dark muddled color as she offered the rope with the free hand coming to her chest. Both hands small but human no less while the outward appearance wouldn't suggest so.

"Tie boat. Not lose. Then answer." A soft command. Once she had done so, Quin'el offered a hand to them.

"Out water. Cold. Give shakes. Wounded. Come. With Crocus." The offered hand remained until it was taken, the calloused hands gentle despite the firm grip she had on the other.

"Of their blood. Not their people. Look for them?" She asked bluntly, the sweet voice sharp behind the mask she still wore. Bare feet against stone mimicked the sound of the waves beating upon the shore. Slowly helping Sarah out of the water and closer to shore.

"You not find this sun. No travel moon. Start new sun, look. Will help." The masked figure informed them, pointing to the sun on its setting path against the horizon.