The Merryweather has been sticking to the equatorial regions since the last stop in Abu Dhabi. Barnacle's earlier plans to venture southward into the Savan Territories have been cut off by the onset of war with the Nagai Empire … and this ship is not fast, stealthy or powerful enough to deal with the hazards that would come with venturing into a potential warzone. Even if the battle can't possibly cover the expanse of the Savan, the risks of visiting any given port would be too great for the Merryweather to recover from if it's at the wrong place at the wrong time. (And, often, it is.)

This tactic, however, hasn't been very profitable. After quite a bit of murmuring and rumor-mongering passing amongst the crew, Barnacle came right out and said that, after this stop on the Seaborne Reach, he's planning on heading to Rephidim, selling what's left of the cargo, and putting the ship in dry-dock until after the new year, getting some much needed repairs (as the patching up in Kroz has already started to show frays around the edges).

This news has gotten mixed reactions. Some crew look forward to having a vacation to blow their shekels with the promise of employment again once the Merryweather's repairs are finished. Others plan on seeking new work as soon as they can … especially those who blow all their money on grog and women in every port.

While various crewmembers whisper or loudly boast their plans in between chores, the Merryweather meanders across the peninsula known as the Seaborne Reach, having cut across the Sea of Himaat westward, and skirted past some troublesome mountains.

This may be an equatorial region, but this particular area is a mountainous range, and snow can be seen on the ground below. The weather has been a bit rough in places, but the ship's still holding up, and it's nothing compared to what the Merryweather has been through before. Now, in a moment of relative calm, the craft glides through a snow-laden valley, lower than the tops of some of the mountain peaks of this wilderness land.

Willow has doubled up on her layers of clothing and wears some rags tied over her head to keep her ears warm, although her whiskers still sport a few traces of frost from the steamy puffs of breath that blow softly from the Skreek's nostrils. She wanders the deck somewhat aimlessly as she ponders quietly to herself. ( Maybe I should just bail in the next town, but could I find work there? And will it hurt the cap to be without a doctor for awhile? What's more, with Rephidim at war, do I really want to go back there? Wars need doctors, but I just don't think Rephidim is my place right now. )

At that moment, it looks briefly as if Willow is going to be converged upon by four people at once: Whitehead, Burr, Barnacle … and Copy. Whitehead is the first to chicken out as soon as he catches sight of the others. Burr stops and bows as the Captain goes past … and Copy gets distracted by an interesting smell on the deck. (Somebody must have dropped some berries and stepped on them.)

So, in the end, the captain waddles up, puffs of cloudy breath coming from his beak as he speaks. "Eh … Good day to ye, Willow. I wanted to talk with you about our plans for wintering at Rephidim… "

Below, the snowy wilderness skims by. Some blackened ruins of a burned village can be seen, ashen timbers poking up through the snow. Cheery place.

The Skreek hops up on a nearby crate, letting her odd plantigrade legs dangle down. "Is anything up, Captain? I'm not too sure what I plan to do just yet in regards to the wintering… I don't like staying in the same place for too long, but I also don't want to suddenly give up on the ship after all I've been through with it."

The crow nods, and hops up on another crate, using it as a perch rather than a chair. "That's what I'd like to talk with you about. I realize that we haven't exactly been raking in the shekels this year … It's been a very interesting year … but your service has been exemplary. And, well … I would have expected someone with your skills to have left our ship long ago, what with all the danger we've faced. Any road … I wanted to offer you a possible incentive, so that you might consider being back on board when the Merryweather comes out of dry-dock again next year."

Willow looks temporarily distracted as she glances at the burned village below, her nose wrinkling even though she's too high up to smell the burnt timbers. At the mention of an incentive, she jerks her head back to the Korv, her attention focused on him fully now. "Really, sir? All the talk about curses and such and folks blaming me for it I'd think you'd want to lose me the first moment you had a chance."

The crow nods. "True, there's talk like that … but performance matters more than rumor, I say. In any case, what I'm offering you is some 'bonus pay' up front, to help you get situated or whatever for the winter … and a promise that you'll have a job waiting for you when you get back. I'm willing to negotiate on maybe fixing up the office a bit while we're doing other repairs… " He looks askance to Willow.

The Skreek leans forward. "How long will the ship be held up in Rephidim?" She smiles a little. "And a bigger office would be nice. It's darn near impossible to treat Hammerhead in there with the room I have now, and I've been afraid to put him on a cot out of fear of him breaking it."

The crow says, "I wager about four months. No guarantees, though. It depends on how serious this conflict gets with Nagai."

"The conflict might slow my coming back a tad. I'm thinking of visiting Misty and the Diamantes again, maybe spending a bit more time in Kroz and Olympia… although I should be able to manage passage." Willow rubs her chin. "I'll tell you what; I'd much rather know that I have a job waiting for me than have to risk rat's luck trying to find one on my own. I'll accept the offer… and if I can't meet you directly in Rephidim, I can meet you in one of the first land ports you hit instead."

The Korv bobs his head. "Good to hear that, Willow. We'll go over details once we make landfall … and aren't freezing feathers and whiskers here on the ship! *kaw!*" He hops back down from his crate perch.

The Skreek sneezes a few bits of ice from her nose and adjusts the bundle on her head, wincing for a moment as one of her newly acquired earrings gets momentarily snagged on the cloth. "What kind of place are we landing in, Cap?"

The Korv turns for a moment and caws, "Middle o' nowhere place. Xanashire. Used to be your typical peasants-and-kings-and-thugs-in-shining-armor type of place, but it had a big fight with the neighbors. I guess magic was involved, because somehow the whole land got wrecked, in addition to the people. There's a noblewoman who lives out here who was offering top shekel for some supplies, and this happened to be on our way to Rephidim … so I figured it was worth a stop. We won't be picking up much cargo here, though."

The gray rat nods, itching under her eye. "What's her name? And how far a trip would it be to get from there to Kroz, do you think?"

"Lady Calderas," answers the Korv. "And from here to Kroz? Well … By airship, a few weeks. But you'll probably have to travel by land for a bit to get to Half Valley for a ship out. We're taking advantage of a 'window' left by the wake of Rephidim to land here at all."

"Name doesn't mean anything to me." Willow shrugs, speaking more to herself than anyone else. "But I can spare a few weeks. Catch up on my reading and such."

The crow nods. "Well, you're picking a rough place to stay. If you change your mind, we'll still be happy to have you on the ride to Rephidim. Now then … I'd best get back to keeping an eye on the boys. We should be getting close to our destination soon."

"One more thing, Captain." The Skreek hops down from her crate. "I've one other request for my continued employment."

The Korv stops in mid-waddle, and cocks his head sideways, looking at the Skreek with one beady black eye. "Yes?"

Willow swallows and glances over at the large Savanite. "I want Burr to be considered a full member of the crew if I join back up. He more than pulls his weight and I think he deserves it."

The Korv blinks a couple of times before he says anything, "Come again?"

"I want Burr to be crew, not cargo. His own bunk, his own salary, and his own work. You know he's more valuable than two crewmembers, and all you've really been paying him is food. I think he's earned the right." The Skreek folds her arms.

The Korv swallows hard. "You've got a point … but … ah … and I know that you're fairly fond of him and his pup … but … you've got to understand… I … " He looks at Willow. "I'll need some sort of paperwork showing that he's a free Savanite, you see. I wouldn't want to run into trouble with the Temple. I mean, I've heard about that City of Hands and all, but that doesn't mean that Savanites aren't still Savanites, you see."

Willow nods and looks over to the cheetah. "Burr, come here. You should be in on this decision." She swallows down on a lump in her stomach. Signing Burr's freedom would mean cutting the last thread that keeps her feeling comfortable in the fact that he'd never leave. Still, he has earned it. Burr has more than earned it. "Burr, do you want to be a member of this crew? Not just my workhorse slave… but a salaried crewmember?"

Burr looks at Willow for a long moment. Then, he signs, "What different?"

"Well, you'll be making some money of your own instead of relying on me to buy you what you need." The Skreek tries to hide the lump of fear she's starting to feel inside. "And I'd officially set you free. You can stay with me and the ship, but you can also go whenever you want and you won't be a piece of property. Burr, it's a chance for you to save up for Thorn's future."

The Korv, meanwhile, seems to be recovering his composure. "And, I should note, a lot of crewmembers are going to have issues with sharing a barracks with a 'free Savanite'. A lot of people have pretty strong feelings about a Savanite's proper place, you see. And if I go saying that a Savanite is worth just as much as anybody else, well … " He spreads his wing-claws. "Well, there could be issues. Now, maybe if this could just be our little secret, and we don't go spreading it around. I could give you Burr's … ah … 'allowance', and you could give it to him to spend as he pleases."

Willow forces a smile at the Captain's words. "Right… We're willing to deal with this however you want."

Burr looks off toward the stairs leading belowdecks. He then looks back to Willow. "If help Thorn," he signs, "I do whatever."

"I'll write up the papers before we make landfall." The rat's tail flicks as she tries to shake some warmth into it. "Burr, from there I'm going to go back to Kroz. You can stay with the ship or go with me, but I'm going to strike out on my own until the ship is ready to sail again."

Burr looks a bit uncomfortable. He is, after all, rarely placed in a position of having to make a decision.

Willow pats the cheetah's back. "C'mon, let's go to my cabin. We both should probably take this one little bit at a time."

The Korv bobs his head. "You take your time. Meanwhile, I – WHITEHEAD! What are you doing, you good-for-nothing-loaf – " He flutters off after the eavesdropping rat.

Burr just nods and follows behind Willow.

"Burr… were you born into slavery? I mean, were you always a slave?" The Skreek nudges the door to her cabin open and begins rooting around inside for a pen and paper.

Burr nods. He signs, "Me raised to fight. Fight in Jade Palace."

Thorn looks up from scrubbing the floor. He smiles at Willow and wiggles his ears in friendly greeting, then returns to his work.

Willow nods and slowly starts to work over how to phrase the writing in this. "Why don't you like shamans? I always figured that you were captured in the wild because of one, or a shaman was the fellow that gave you that mark on your face."

Burr signs, "Shamans bad luck. That why owners kill Marked cubs. Cub with Mark grow to be Shaman."

"I see. I'm not too sure why I asked you that… I suppose just to give me some insight." The Skreek scratches at her paper a bit more. "Do you want to be free, Burr? I don't want to push this on you… I suppose it feels like I'm asking you to jump off the deck of the ship and try to fly."

Burr frowns, then signs, "Burr scared. No have make choices. But want Thorn be happy. Thorn smart, not like Burr."

Willow drops her head. "Burr, this decision is probably completely selfish on my part… but I'll tell you what. Come with me after we leave here and I'll try to teach you how to be free. You don't have to leave me if you don't want to. I'll take care of you and Thorn just like I did before, and every penny you earn as a crewman will go into a savings for him so that when he's grown up he can go to school or you can buy a house or something. But I'm not doing this to abandon you, and this isn't a punishment – it's a reward. All this Star thinking I've been doing lately has made me decide that it's time I pay you back a little for all the times you've stood by me and taken care of me. Do you understand?"

Burr signs, "Why reward for me do what I supposed to?"

"Because loyalty deserves some kind of reward, namely because it's such a scruddy rare trait these days." The Skreek blows on the ink-scribbled parchment lying in her lap. "Burr, you know that people believe that Savanites are animals. You are not an animal, and you are not my pet Fuff'nar or anything like that either. I want you to stay with me, but I need to stop using your collar as my insurance for that. I would rather consider you my friend than my pet. Does that make sense?"

Burr nods. "I follow you. You good to Thorn. If someone pick on you, I smash him."

Willow offers the paper to the cheetah. "You'll have to sign your name on this, and Thorn as well. Don't worry, Burr… I'm not abandoning you, and I'll be there for you whenever you need me."

Burr blinks at the paper. "Burr know only how sign 'X'."

The Skreek rubs her chin. "Then smear some ink on your thumb pad and sign it with a thumbprint instead. That should work just as well. It's not like the document is forged or anything like that."

Burr nods, and does just that. He then tries to clean his thumb off by licking it … but soon thinks better of that idea, grimacing unpleasantly. He wipes his thumb off on his fur, making a black smudge there. "If Burr free, Thorn free too?"

"That's right. He's your son… so you both sort of come together. Thorn can do whatever he wants to with his life and won't be owned by anyone." Willow forces herself to smile. "Now you should probably get him and yourself bundled up for the cold while I show the paper to Cap."

The Merryweather passes a few more ruined villages, and even a couple of ruined castles, until it comes to a mountainside village underneath yet another ruined fortress … but evidently this one is actually occupied. At the town of Falcon's Watch, the Merryweather casts mooring lines and makes a landing, unloading an assortment of foodstuffs, practical goods … and a few luxury items, as well. Barnacle, as usual, handles the haggling, and it sounds like Rephidim Standard is the language of choice here, so no need for a translator.

The village here is mostly populated by Khattas and Rhians, it seems, though there might be other species represented in other villages.

The only "public" building is, not too surprisingly, the local tavern. It doesn't seem that they have travelers in these parts, though, so it doesn't really double as a proper inn … though in these places, one can usually still buy a bed or a pile of hay for the night.

No matter how bad things get, it seems that as long as there are still crops being raised, and grain to ferment, there's still ale. And so a few of the sailors have come here to spend more of their meager earnings before the last jog up to Rephidim, and despite stern warnings from the captain that anyone who passes out here is going to be left behind, as he can't afford any dead weight on the last leg of the trip.

Willow eases herself into a seat at the bar and squints at the menu. It's been awhile since she's had a hot meal, and a tavern is always a useful place to pick up on gossip and travel information. She suppresses a lazy yawn brought on by the chill as she sizes up the other people in the Tavern.

The menu basically reads along the lines of "Meal: 5 shekels. Ale: 10 shekels. Clean water: 5 shekels."

The door creaks open, and a white rat walks in, with a patch over one eye. He catches sight of Willow. "Heyyyy! Doc! I hear you're jumping ship!" he calls out loudly, for all to hear, as he waddles up toward the bar.

A charcoal-furred Khatta girl with raven-black hair and a patch over one eye – somehow, it looks more genuine on her than on Whitehead – tends bar, pouring a mug for a Rhian shiphand and giving him a bag of oats, which he munches on lazily.

Willow hunches down in her seat as she digs out a tenner from her pocket. "I'm going to keep myself busy elsewhere until the ship's ready to sail again. I assure you that I will still be around to patch you up from your various conquest attempts, just as long as you refrain from any for the next four months."

Whitehead says, "Oh, wait! Hey, I'll treat ya. What say we celebrate our newfound freedom, eh? Bet I can drink ya under the table."

The one-eyed barmaid gives Whitehead a dubious look.

Whitehead, of course, reflexively gives the charcoal-furred Khatta a one-over, twice. This prompts no reaction whatsoever from the Khatta girl, aside from, "Ale is twenty shekels. Water is ten. Meal is ten," while looking at Whitehead.

"You going to bail the ship after this?" The gray Skreek waves at the barmaid, flashing a tenner. "I can pay for myself, besides… you'll probably need every shekel you can spare. That and if I'm going to find a ride out of here, I'll need to keep my head clear."

The barmaid, seeing that Whitehead isn't leaping over himself to cover Willow's expense after all, takes the tenner, and pours an ale for the gunmetal gray Skreek.

Willow waves her hand. "Whoa there! I'd like a meal and a fresh glass of water, no ale for me."

The barmaid smirks. "My mistake." She pulls the ale away, prompting a disappointed whine from Whitehead, and ladles out a mug of water instead. "I'll have your meal out in just a few heartbeats."

"Thank you very much, ma'am." The gray Skreek bobs her head. "So what do you plan to do now, Whitey?"

Whitehead says, "Aw … you know … the usual." He pastes a stupid grin on his face.

The door creaks open, letting in a rough-looking Jupani. He's not from the crew, and so far Willow hasn't seen any Jupani families here in the village. He's rough-looking insofar as build, and has a military bent to his posture – plus the big sword over his back is a dead giveaway – and his attire looks like that of a woodsman, although in a scheme of white, gray and brown that would probably blend in with the snowy landscape at a distance.

"More gardening then. You know, Whitey, as the ship's doctor, I suppose I should mention that your lifestyle isn't particularly healthy to you. You might lose your other eye sometime." Willow props her chin in her hand and raises an eyeridge at the arrival of the Jupani.

The wolf scans the room, and Whitehead makes several reflexive whisker-twitches for the instant that the wolf's eyes pass over him. This guilty demeanor just earns him a couple of seconds of staring from the wolf, but then the Jupani seems to figure the rat not worth his trouble, and moves on, stepping aside and holding the door open.

The charcoal Khatta mouths an "Oh!" and grabs an old chitin pot with a polished bottom, checking her hair, then straightens her apron and gives the bar a hasty polish that knocks an empty mug back behind the bar with a clatter.

Willow glances over her shoulder, her other eyebrow rising up as well. ( Looks like someone important is walking in here… )

The wolf makes way for an old Khatta – a lioness – who looks old enough to be someone's grandmother or maybe even great grandmother. She's dressed much as some old widow in Rephidim might be who bothers to still go out now and then … dressed fairly nicely, though her tastes are a few generations out of date by Rephidim standards. She walks in with the assistance of a cane, and before the door closes, Willow catches a glimpse of a couple of other tough-looking companions staying outside.

"Good evening, Lady Calderas," purrs the charcoal Khatta, bowing as she makes her greeting.

Whitehead, now that the wolf isn't looking directly at him, resumes smirking, casually laying his elbows across the bar and sitting backwards on his stool.

"I'm going to move to a table, ma'am," Willow squeaks softly. "You can bring out my food there." She hops down from her stool and moves to an empty table near the hearth in the Tavern, hoping that the old lioness might choose to sit nearby as well because of the warmth.

Just as Willow starts to move away, Whitehead leans toward her, and whispers, "What a fossil!" … but as Willow is moving away, Whitehead's habit is to speak a little more loudly to make sure he's heard. The bar girl drops something that shatters behind the bar. A couple of villagers in the tavern suddenly go real silent. The other crewers in the tavern get the clue. Whitehead, as per usual, doesn't. "What? What?"

Lady Calderas smiles sweetly at the bar girl. "Sabrina … is he a friend of yours?"

This earns a small head-shake from the bar girl.

The gray Skreek's ears flatten and she shoots a glare towards Whitehead. Still, this is a chance… "Lady Calderas?" Willow clears her throat. "I'm sorry, he's a crewman from my ship and hasn't learned about respecting those who deserve it. It may be little compensation, but I would be happy to pay for your food and drink as an apology for my crewmate's rude behavior."

The lioness smiles just as sweetly to Willow. "That's terribly thoughtful of you, dearie. But I would feel so much better if your friend would apologize."

Whitehead says, "Huh? Apologize? For what? Hey, Willow, you trying to cause trouble here?"

Willow frowns. "Your whisper carried halfway across the bar. You've made me look bad for being on the receiving end of that whisper, and the Merryweather look bad for giving its crew such a bad initial impression here in this town. But I'm sure that it all can be forgiven and forgotten if you will apologize to Lady Calderas and her guards."

Whitehead looks at the wolf again. It's as if suddenly the sunlight shines through the clouds of his thick little head. "Oh. You mean they're with her? Oh."

Lady Calderas, meanwhile, smiles patiently.

The lady Skreek just taps her foot.

Whitehead stammers, "Oh! Fossil – you thought I said fossil, didn't you? Oh, what I really said was … uh … what a … a falsehood! We were just talkin' about somethin' one of me pals said and … he's a liar, you see. Can't trust him so far as you can spit at him. Or somethin' like that. And … uh … "

Lady Calderas smiles. "Oh … really?"

Whitehead chuckles half-heartedly, and then says, "Yeah … uhm … but … ah … I'm … really … uh … sorry … for the misunnerstannin' … I mean … I wouldn't want to insult a nice old lad – er … I mean, a nice lady and her guards. Right? That would be … stupid!"

Willow chitters to Whitehead in her rarely used Skreek tongue, "Don't dig the hole any deeper, please! Just apologize and get out of here." She puts a hand over her face,

Whitehead suddenly ducks his head. "I'm SORRY! I'm sorrysorrysorrypleasedon'thurtme! I'm sorry!" And then he makes a dash for the door!

The wolf moves to intercept the scurrying rat, but Lady Calderas quietly shakes her head, and the wolf obediently stays his hand.

A few crewers mumble and shake their heads at Whitehead's departure. The usual tavern murmurings resume.

The gray Skreek sighs. "Madam, I am truly sorry for that. He just doesn't see very much through that one eye of his. If there is anything I can do to make up for the indignity that my shipmate just caused you let me know. I don't want this to reflect wrongly on my captain's business here. We're not all like that."

"I see," purrs the lioness, and then she sniffs at the air. "Sabrina, dear? It smells like you have something burning."

The charcoal Khatta suddenly snaps back to reality. "Oh! I'll be right back… " She rushes back off to the kitchen.

Meanwhile, the lioness looks back to Willow. "You have a curious taste in friends for such an unusually well-mannered Skreek such as yourself." The flippant reference to Willow's species is spoken in a perfectly grandmotherly tone to her voice, and she smiles sweetly, but there's something somehow calculating in her glance at the gunmetal gray Skreek as she says this.

Willow bites her lip and pulls over her outer shirt and vest from her triple layers of clothing. She folds them up and places them on the wooden seat of one of the chairs near the hearth as a makeshift cushion. "Here you go, ma'am, you can sit here while I buy your meal." She smirks a little. "We work together. An airship is about cooperation, and if I'm more focused on sniping at Whitey than doing my job, then the work doesn't get done. Besides, after I leave here I'll have a four month vacation from him."

"Oh, really?" purrs the old lioness. "Well, that's rather gentlemanly of you. Thank you." She takes the seat on the makeshift cushion, despite a dubious look from her lupine companion.

Sabrina brings a few plates up to the bar. "I blackened the bottoms of the biscuits, sorry. I'll make up a new batch."

"Ladylike, you mean." Willow coughs, glancing at one of the guards. "I'm a lady; they just don't make dresses for airship work, so I have to make do with what I can manage." Willow counts up another tenner and adds a five shekel coin on top of that and places them on the bar.

The lioness mouths an "oh", and covers her mouth, then purrs, "Terribly sorry. My eyes just aren't what they used to be."

Sabrina nods at the coins, putting them away, then puts the plates on a tray and carries them over to the table. "Here you go." She sets out the plates and utensils and drinks, then takes the tray back to the bar.

"It's all right." The Skreek seats herself at the table next to the lioness – within casual conversation distance but not so presumptuous as to sit with her. "When you're one of the only ladies on an airship, sometimes trying to fit in with the rest of the crew is a way to hinder certain distractions as well. Another reason why I'm going to enjoy my vacation."

The lioness doesn't pay any attention to her food right away, instead gazing leisurely at the fire, her tufted tail swaying back and forth lazily from where it peeks out from the folds of her dress. She looks up at the Skreek. "Please … if we're going to be chatting, you could at least sit here." She gestures to an empty chair at the table.

"I didn't want to impose, ma'am." Still, Willow does get up from her seat and places herself across the table from Lady Calderas. "But I'm grateful for the company. It's always nice to meet new people in new places."

"Oh, we don't get too many new people out in these parts," says the lioness. "Not anymore. And I don't get out very much. Too old for that sort of thing." She then stops from her chatting to nibble at her food, and to take a sip of her drink. It doesn't look like water, and it doesn't smell like ale. It smells more like some sort of weakly fermented sweet beverage. Nog, perhaps.

"Pardon me for a moment, Lady Calderas." Willow glances around the room nervously and then bows her head, mumbling something to herself before she raises her head back up to take a bite from her dinner.

The door creaks open again. This time, Burr comes in, accompanied by Thorn. He looks a bit apprehensive … and has a small pouch of coins, by the looks of things. Thorn points at the menu, then signs the writing to Burr.

Lady Calderas raises a curious eyebrow, glancing at Willow for a moment, but doesn't say anything, instead nibbling on her food.

Burr walks up to the bar counter, looking uncertainly at his coins.

The Skreek clears her throat. "I don't know if this is a touchy subject, but I was curious. While I was flying down here I noticed some damage to some villages. Is there some kind of conflict going on?"

Thorn clambers up on a stool, and points at the "meal" and "water", and then points at himself and Burr.

Sabrina nods, saying, "That will be twenty shekels. Ah … what happened to your collars?"

Willow glances over her shoulder. "They don't have any. They're with my ship."

Lady Calderas swallows a mouthful, and looks as if she's about to reply to Willow's question, then looks instead to the bar. She exchanges glances with Sabrina, then says, "If they have the shekels, you can serve them, Sabrina. My grandson would have fits if he somehow learned that we refused any of their kind here."

"Grandson?" Willow itches at her neck while she munches on a biscuit.

Sabrina nods, looking a bit embarrassed, and tries to smile back, as Thorn counts over the shekels for his father. "Ah. Thank you. You're in luck – the biscuits should be done any moment now." She puts away the coins and heads back to the kitchen.

Lady Calderas smiles. "Oh … my grandson has these ideas in his head. Friends with this 'Savanite queen', and many more of their kind. Last I heard, he even invited enough of them up to his castle in Sylvania to start a village. They obligingly named their village after him. It's a lot nicer there, now that he's driven off all the monsters. Maybe I'll pay another visit next summer… "

"Wait a moment. Is he a black Khatta with a reputation of falling out of airships? I think I met him once… although I hope he's cleaned up his – " Willow bites her lip. "Nevermind."

Lady Calderas' eyebrows raise. "Cleaned up his what? And, oh yes, that would be him. Dear Feli. He's a Duke now, did you know that? My, but titles are handed out easily these days. Though he did do such a splendid job against those Gallisian invaders. He does need to work on his manners, though."

"I shouldn't say such things about your family to you, but he was… er… a little too generous with his insults." Willow buries her nose in her glass. "It was months ago, far in the past."

"Oh. Well … I trust that having so many guests to look after will force him to be a little more civil, don't you think?" purrs the lioness. "I do hope you don't hold it against him. He can be rather opinionated, and prone to make a few wild decisions based on his peculiar morality … but he's a good little cub for the most part."

Sabrina serves a couple of plates up at the counter, and sets out some hot biscuits.

Burr looks like he's about to chow down immediately, but Thorn taps his arm. Burr, remembering himself, signs a quick little prayer. "Thank Star for good food, please bless. Let's eat. Amen." Then father and son eat.

Sabrina brings the tray of fresh steaming biscuits over to Lady Calderas' table. "Here they are, fresh from the stove. I can bring jam if you'd like."

"Of course. As I said, it's in the past. The circumstances were somewhat stressful as well." The Skreek puts her mug down. "If you'll pardon me for asking… has your family ever run into anyone by the name of Absalom? He's a scraggly black Khatta life mage, part of the Dack family in Kroz, although I don't think he'd tell anyone that."

"No jam for me, thank you, Sabrina," purrs the lioness, taking a biscuit and setting it on her plate. She looks to Willow. "Absalom? Hmm. Trevor, should I know that name?" She looks up to the wolf standing by the hearth.

The wolf shakes his head. "I don't recognize that name, m'lady."

A flicker of remembrance lights in the old lioness' eyes. "You know … I think I might have actually seen you somewhere before… "

"Any biscuits for you, ma'am?" asks Sabrina, holding the tray of biscuits within reach of Willow.

"He's a follower of Dagh, roams most of Nordika. I'm looking for him, and I was just curious if he'd made it this far or had a reputation for pestering your family." The Skreek takes one of the proffered biscuits from the tray and sets it down on her plate. "Oh! I've been so rude. My name is Willow, as in Willow-the-Wisp. Some folks call me Foxfire."

As Sabrina walks away, the lioness smiles and nods. "The people here call me Lady Calderas. And, no, I know of no followers of Dagh pestering my family."

"Then it was an isolated incident. I'm glad to hear that." Willow relaxes a little. "Do you know of an inexpensive way that I could get to Half Valley from here? I'm trying to work my way to Kroz, but I doubt I'll find transport directly from here to there."

"Hmm," ponders the lioness. "Half Valley is about all you can get to from here, and that pretty rarely. Most of those who can leave what's left of Stalwirland already have, after all, and there's little reason to come back. You see, in answer to your earlier question, this was once Falcon's Watch, capitol of Stalwirland, located in Xanashire. Xanashire and the other shires went to war against each other, and nobody was ever able to settle who would hold the throne after the king fell."

"What you see in the countryside is the legacy of that war," purrs the lioness. "A few villages hang on stubbornly, but they are the minority. Some of these lands have been rendered infertile because of the wandering earth golems that roam them and poison the soil. And then there are the monsters that arose when civilization fell."

The Skreek's eyes widen. "I'm sorry to hear that, Lady Calderas. Did this happen recently?"

"No, no," chuckles the lioness. "That was long ago, generations ago. It all started before I was a mother." Her eyes only momentarily have a hint of sadness to them, but she resumes her usual composure. "It's all long gone and past."

Willow nods. "Do you know when the next airship or caravan to Half Valley will leave here? I'm willing to offer my services as a doctor while I'm in town, if they could be of any use."

The lioness raises her eyebrows. "A doctor? Oh, you'll be quite popular, then. We haven't had a doctor here in ages. Not a real one, in any case. Oh, I imagine that there won't be any airships coming out of here for quite some time, after yours leaves." She pauses, looking thoughtful.

The Skreek leans back in her chair slightly. She knows the look of someone pondering an idea in her head when she sees it.

"Of course, if you're a real doctor, you would be able to find some work here easily, if you don't mind staying," the lioness purrs. "Otherwise, you might get lucky when some adventurers come wandering by. That tends to happen now and then. The ruins tend to attract those types. Otherwise, if you've got enough shekels, you might be able to hire a guide to show you the way, though riding animals are hard to spare these days."

Trevor speaks up for the first time so far, saying in a low rumble, "Lady Calderas, there are those monster-hunters that were exploring northern Tectishire. They have their own transport."

The lioness says, "Oh yes. Yes … nearly forgot about them."

"I'm a real doctor," Willow squeaks, biting her lip. "I don't mind being where I could be useful, but there's some people in Kroz that I need to meet up with, and I've only got four months to do it and get back in." She taps her nose, although her eyes light up at the Jupani's words. "Who is this now?"

The lioness shakes her head, sighing. "So-called adventurers. One of them has been an actor so long, playing at being a hero, that he thinks he is one. And then there's that annoying fox. And the rest … well, it's small wonder they haven't slain any monsters yet, but a bigger one that the monsters haven't done as much to them yet."

"Where are they? If they can get me to Half Valley, I can put up with most annoyances." Willow starts to grin.

The lioness says, "Well, you can find them 'practicing' in the ruins. They are dearies, really … but terribly misguided, I think. The largest one is a blond Jupani – their leader, I think. Then, there is a vixen who swoons far too much to be adventuring … and another fox who fancies himself a musician. Don't get me wrong … He's delightful at playing the lute, but he really should try more for instrumentals rather than lyrical accompaniment."

"They also have what I take to be a mage with them … and a calico … a male calico, for goodness' sake … who seems to sit and watch most of the time," the lioness adds.

"Well now, quite an interesting group. I wonder how they'd react if I told them I knew about a whole country full of monsters and creepies?" The Skreek pulls herself from her chair. "Where are these ruins? I feel I should pay these folks a visit before my ship takes off."

The lioness smiles. "Trevor? Could you point this fine young lady to the ruins?"

The wolf bows. "This way," he rumbles to Willow, then looks at her plate. "Whenever you're ready."

The Skreek picks up her plate and sets it down next to Burr. "I'm ready now." She pats the cheetah's shoulder. "I think I might have a potential ride to Kroz. If you can tolerate Whitehead, these folks should be no problem." She winks and hustles after the Jupani.

Burr nods, his own plate empty, while Thorn is putting the finishing touches on some biscuits.

The Jupani leads Willow outside – and past a couple more big, tough-looking guys hanging out just outside the tavern – and then brings her about, pointing up the mountainside. A winding road twists its way up the face, leading toward the ruins of a castle and some outlying buildings. "There. The central tower is Lady Calderas' dwelling. But the strangers have gotten permission to practice in the outlying ruins."

"Interesting. Have you seen them at work? Is it all puff and fake, or do any of them look to have any real skill to them?" Willow hugs her shoulders, trying to work out some of the cold in her arms.

Trevor frowns, then says, "They are very strange. You shall have to see for yourself. We do not deal with them much. Foxes are bad luck."

"Tell me about it," the Skreek mumbles to herself.

Burr and Thorn come out of the tavern. Thorn is almost unrecognizable with all the bundling he's got on, while Burr – thickly layered against the cold – is still readily distinguished if by size and shape alone.

Trevor nods. "I'll get back to the Lady," he says, and heads back into the tavern.

Willow slows her step a bit to allow the two Savanites to catch up. Not too difficult a feat, really.

The cheetahs catch up. Burr looks askance to Willow with his typical "What's up?" expression.

"A bunch of monster hunters. All money and no skill I think, but they have riding animals and might be our only way to Kroz besides going back to Rephidim and showing our faces again, not to mention sticking our tails in the path of that war. This might be uncomfortable, but tolerable." She quickens her pace again and heads towards the ruins.

Burr asks no more questions on the way up, and Thorn just seems to be happy to be going somewhere new and strange. At last, they get up to the fringes of the ruins … in time to hear what sounds like a clash of blades!

"Aha! Have at thee, foul monster!" *tak tak tak* "You are no match for my steel!" "Roar!" *tok tok tok*

"Heeeey! They might even have iron swords!" The Skreek scuttles closer, peeking in at the people inside.

Through the crack, Willow can see a fox in blousy attire crossing blades with a big Jupani with long blond hair, who occasionally makes a lame "roar" sound. Nearby, a vixen cringes, occasionally gasping, "Oh!" and "Oh my!" and "Look out!" and looking on the verge of swooning. Off to the side, a foppish fox (yes, another vulpine!) plays a fast-paced rhythm on the lute … while a calico Khatta sits in a folding chair, a black beret perched on his head and cocked to one side, as he just watches. A Lapi in patched gray robes with cheap-looking stars sewn onto them sits in the middle of a magic circle traced on a leather tarp cast on the ground.

Willow's vision for a moment seems a bit fuzzy … like the onset of sleepiness.

The Skreek rubs her head, leaning against one of the rocks for support as she watches. Probably best to wait this out and see if these people are skilled in the slightest, or if they're all complete loons, before she goes and introduces herself.

The music gets louder in Willow's ears … somehow, on account of the acoustics, seeming more and more like an orchestra rather than the music from a solitary lute.

The shadows cast on the walls seem not that of a Jupani and a fox … no … Willow's perceptions seem to be shifting …

Suddenly, there is a loud, ear-splitting roar! A ferocious stone-dragon-thing slashes out with sharp claws at a heroic and very handsome fox that skillfully dodges every blow!

"Oh! Help me!" cries out the vixen. There is no sign of the mage or the calico … or the bard, for that matter, though the music has to come from somewhere.

Willow's eyes widen while one hand flails around behind her back, trying to find the cheetah behind her.

The stone-dragon-thing slashes out again, tearing chunks from the wall. Funny. The monster looks kind of lumpy, like a clay model … like … no … the fog clears. Willow spies a clay model of some sort of monster sitting right in front of the Lapi mage. And it's just the lute playing, not some orchestra.

And Burr is right behind Willow, along with Thorn.

The Skreek chews on her lip and flattens her ears so quickly that the bangles dangling from then ring out. She stands up from her spot and takes a few more hesitant steps forward.

The Jupani and the Fox continue to exchange "blows". There is no sign of any real monster for the time being.

Willow is still a bit too hesitant to interrupt a ritual. Instead she simply steps out in a more conspicuous spot and waits for the scuffle to end, using this as a chance to size up the fighting skills of the big brute and the fox.

The music crescendos … and then the swashbuckling fox makes a thrust with his sword … and the big blond Jupani jolts as if struck, dropping his weapon and clasping his hands to his chest. "Argh! Rahr… " And then, with great drama, he stumbles about … then collapses to the ground.

It looks like, for now, the battle is over, the fox the clear victor without shedding even a drop of blood. The vixen rushes up to the fox. "Oh, my hero!"

"CUT!" yells the calico Khatta, and at that same moment, the Lapi mage claps his hands together, and opens his eyes.

The Skreek applauds.

The blond Jupani gets up. Most of the faces register various degrees of surprise … though the fop fox with the lute immediately hops up and begins taking bows. "Thank you! You are too kind!"

Burr just looks confused, not surprisingly.

"My apologies for intruding. Lady Calderas told me I could find you here. She said you were interested in fighting monsters?" Willow folds her hands behind her back and tilts her head sideways.

The calico Khatta gets up off of his folding chair, his black beret perched garishly over one ear, and his eyes obscured by black chitin shades, even though it's not terribly bright out. "Ah yes! Hey, babe, nice of you to wait until we were finished before innerducing yourself. I'm Jak as in Nakk, and I don't take no slack." He points over his shoulder at the others. "This is my pack. We're adventurers, recording our experiences for the enjoyment of the nobility."

The blond Jupani gets up, and pulls out a small disc-shaped device from his belt-pouch, and pops it open – a pocket mirror. He checks to make sure that his long golden hair is perfectly in place, then puts the mirror away, grinning at Willow. "I am Phai'Baioh!" He flexes by way of introduction.

"Willow the Wisp, or Foxfire if you prefer." The Skreek bows. "I'm trying to get to Half Valley and from there to Kroz. If you're really looking for exotic locals and monsters to fight, Kroz is much nicer than this gloomy town… er… that is if you're interested in moving on."

The vixen shivers, picking up a cloak and throwing it about herself. "If it's any warmer than this, I'm all for it!"

"Well, it's winter there as well last I checked, but not like this." Willow gestures around her. "I know I'm being presumptuous, but if you'll allow me to travel with you, I'll be more than happy to be your guide. I can also fight and I'm a very good doctor. If you require, I'll even pay you what I can if you don't think I'm pulling my weight."

The Lapi dusts himself off, and starts picking up his magical supplies.

The fop-fox runs up and bows to Willow. "Greetings! We are magically recording experiences of high adventure and excitement, under the expert direction of Master Nakk. This, as you've heard, is Phai'Baioh, a Jupani of heroic physique and boundless ego. Next, we have Aero Flynt, a swashbuckling Fox, with twice the Swash of Captain Dash, but none of the Buckle! And there is Amelie Fireheart, Vulpine heart-throb, playing the part of the damsel in distress time and time again … and then Mystico the Magnificent, the cheapest – er, most adventurous Dream Mage ever! He records our experiences, then shapes them into dreams to bestow upon well-paying nobles, so that our adventures can become their fond fantasies and memories."

Phai'Baioh, meanwhile, looks past Willow, at Burr. "Ah! What a fine specimen! This is no girlie spotty! You there! Stand proud and tall!"

Jak Nakk gives Phai'Baioh a dubious glance. "Phai'Baioh, babe … that's a Savanite. They don't stand proud and tall. That's your job."

Willow scratches her head. "Dream mage? I figured he was an earth mage with that little clay model he had." Still, she bows to each person as she's introduced, in turn. She chortles at the wolf. "I'm sorry, this is Burr and his son Thorn. They're my partners."

Thorn clambers up onto a broken section of the wall, and waves vigorously, grinning big enough to make up for himself and Burr combined.

Mystico finishes picking up his things, putting the clay statue away lastly. "Ah … this?" He gestures to the odd artifact. "It's a bit of a stand-in. We weren't able to stay long enough to deal with real golems, and our conflict with the rock monster ended rather … undesirably … so I made this rough approximation to represent the golem in our "modified" version of events. Our customers prefer happy endings, not panicked retreats."

Aero Flynt casts Mystico a "Do you mind?" glare, while Amelie just sighs, rolling her eyes Processionward.

"Oh… I'm sorry to hear that." The Skreek shuffles her feet. "Ahem. Well, there are monsters in Kroz, but most of them are easy enough to fight and won't kill you instantly. Ever see a grook before?"

"A grook?" echo most of those gathered, not quite in unison.

The fop fox grins. "A grook! Why … I have a song about grooks! Do you want to hear it?"

Willow looks at Jak. "Do I?"

Jak looks like he's about to suggest something negative, but the fop fox doesn't wait for any further reply, swinging his lute around and saying, "Of course you do!" He strums his lute.

The fop fox looks awfully familiar, really.

"Hey! I met you in Naochi Lands back in Kroz! Did you ever get your money back from that rat?" The Skreek bounces up and down on her tiptoes.

The fop fox begins singing loudly…

"Over that way, if you dare look-a,"

"It's a nasty, strange and foul!"

"Looks like a bony, evil Hooka,"

"Hiding in darkness' cowllll!"

"You'd better run, you'd better book!"

"For this critter is quite forsook!"

"He's more dangerous than any crook!"

"RUN FROM THE GROOK!"

"STOP IT! STOP IT, I BEG YOU!" yowls the calico Khatta. "Enough! ENOUGH!"

The fop fox, meanwhile, still singing loudly, looks quite blissfully happy as he strums … and prepares to sing another verse!

"Burr?" Willow glances over her shoulder. "Help us make a good impression upon these people and grab the singing fox's head, would you? Don't squeeze too tightly."

"Nasty and spiky, like a skeletal rook-AAAAAAA!" *SPRANG!* The fop fox dangles from Burr's grasp, kicking wildly. "HALP! HALP! LEMME DOWN!"

The Skreek winces a little. "All right, you may set him back down now."

Burr puts the foppish fox back down.

The fop fox stammers and sputters, then adopts an indignant pose. "Well … I never!"

"You know a bit about Kroz, then, eh, babe?" asks the calico Khatta. "That's the place with all the monsters and treasure and ruins, eh? Except I heard the treasure all ran dry."

Aero Flynt sighs. "I'll be heading back to the town to clean up and have some supper." He holds out an arm for the vixen. "Shall we?"

"If you're paying, hero," says the vixen, taking his arm.

"That's the place. I've seen the ruins with my own eyes… and the backdrops are nice as well. Castles, mountains, forests, deep dark caves, quaint little villages. All in one little country." The Skreek winces a little at the "babe" remark, but she lets it slide – It sounds like the Khatta is just part Gigi or something.

The Khatta nods at the Skreek, then nods to the vulpines. "Yeah, Flynt babe, you were fabulous today. I'd say we're done here … unless we want to try tackling the real golems again for added realism … ?" He looks at the others, but various head-shakes and wide-eyed looks suggest a negative reaction. "Well then … how about we talk over some cider back at the tavern, eh, babe? Sounds interesting. And 'interesting' is Jak Nakk's middle name!"

Phai'Baioh looks confused. "Phai'Baioh thought that 'adventure' was Jak Nakk's middle name?"

The Khatta sighs and waves off the big golden-haired wolf.

Willow nods, glancing at the dream mage. "Sounds like a plan. Can I speak to your dream mage for a moment before I join you?"

"Sure, babe, sure!" says the Khatta with a nod. The group picks up their things and starts downhill back toward the tavern. Burr's eyes follow the fop fox with a curious and wary expression. The Lapi pauses next to the Skreek, looking at her curiously. "Yes?"

The gray rat jingles her coin purse. "I've been looking for a dream mage or a mind mage to do something for me if it's possible. Can you help me remember something from my past?"

The Lapi wiggles his pink nose hungrily at the sound of the jingling coins. "Oh! Yes, I am Mystico the Magnificent, Adept of the Sphere of Dream! I can make your nightmares turn into fantasies, and help you interpret the most curious of visions … or bring up distant memories in the form of dreams."

Willow folds her arms. "This would be very distant, like the first few days after I was born. Can you do that? I've some idea of what happened, so I'll know if I'm getting something real or not. But I am willing to pay if you can really make me remember."

The Lapi's nose pauses, then wiggles some more. "The first … few days?" He pauses, thoughtful. "It … would be very difficult. After all, a newborn child has not learned very much at that time. Most of what you sense is just a meaningless and sometimes frightening jumble. It is harder to recall that which … " He pauses again, as one ear droops, and the other perks up. "But … with magic, all things are possible! It … may be a considerable strain on me, though, to pull memories from such a distant past, though."

"I'm not rich… but I can spare you a copper. It's what I was going to spend on my fare to get here." The Skreek smiles. "Although I have some friends in Kroz. I could probably get you pampered up there."

"Oh … really?" says the Lapi, with more nose-wiggling. "Well … let us go over this back in the warmth of the tavern, shall we?"

"After you, oh Mystico the great." Willow smirks and follows after the Lapi.

In the attic of the tavern, where a few makeshift beds of rags, old blankets and seed bags lie waiting for tonight's guests once they retire later on, Mystico has set up a magic circle, rimmed by flickering candles burned down so low that they are wider than they are tall. One can hope that they'll last long enough for the ritual, at least.

Mystico is already well into the ritual, with Willow seated in the center of an adjoining circle. He chants gibberish, while fatigue lays heavily upon Willow's eyelids … whether by the effect of magic, genuine fatigue … or the sheer boredom of sitting and listening to this for so long.

The strumming of the fop fox's lute can be heard vaguely below, competing with the clamor of the townsfolk, crewmen and visitors.

"People tell me I'm more easily affected by magic than most. I'm not to sure how this will affect what you're doing though," Willow mumbles, suppressing a yawn. She rubs her eyes and starts to study the grain of the wood on the floor to occupy herself.

The grain of the wood blends smoothly into the grass, intermixed with a few wildflowers. The droning of the mage is beginning to sound like the babbling of some distant brook.

The Skreek starts suddenly, ears perking at the sudden change. She tries to get up and look around at her surroundings a bit better.

Willow's surroundings have changed drastically, all the more evident as she gets up on her feet. As near as Willow can tell, if this is some dream of her infant days, she's definitely no infant.

The countryside is that of the place where she met that foppish fox on the fringes of Naochi. It's night time, and the Procession bathes the mountains in a faerie glow. It is not the chill of winter, but of a summer night. Sometime close to Midsummer, most likely.

Biting her lip, the Skreek extends a hand to examine it. "So am I still me? What's going on?"

The hand fur looks lighter than it ought to. It's not gunmetal gray.

Willow moves her hand to her face, feeling out her features and grabbing a hank of her hair to peer at its color.

A chill wind stirs the trees, carrying with it a sense of malevolence … and danger.

Willow's features seem her own by touch, but her hair is red. A quick check, though, reveals that she doesn't have her old scar on her scalp. It seems quite unlikely that at any one point in her life, she looked and felt exactly like this … an adult, yet missing any of the scars of her youth, and the marks created by the life mages.

"I'd almost forgotten that I ever looked like this." Willow… no… Chiria swallows. Her head shoots up, remembering the spot by the river where she found the basket. She starts to make her way to that spot, peering around through her bright yellow eyes for signs of anyone.

Chiria finds her way back down to the river. It's not exactly as she last saw it. The tree blocking the stream is noticeably smaller, though still spanning its banks. Upstream, though, a girl in her teens pushes her way through the foliage, a heavy cloak of dark fabric drawn about her, and a wicker basket clutched tightly to her bosom.

The Skreek bolts towards the woman, determined to get a good look at her and her burden.

The girl is a Krozite Skreek, a mousy-brown in color, though it's hard to discern her features clearly in the dim light. It takes little effort, though, to detect fear and anxiety in her rapid breaths. She takes no notice whatsoever of Chiria's approach. The bundle in her basket, however, begins to cry.

"Hush now, child, please," begs the girl in the Krozite tongue, "or we'll both perish!"

Chiri puts her hands over her mouth, as though that would help somehow. She glances out towards the trees, trying to find any sign of the hunter pursuing the maid.

A sing-song voice hums a familiar, haunting melody, coming from some direction that Chiria cannot quite discern. It's not even clear whether it is coming from "here", or just from within some other pocket of Chiria's own perception.

No hunters are visible. There are no sounds of footfalls or shouts to hint at immediate pursuit of the girl – nothing but the authenticity of her fear to suggest that it has any warrant. But just then, the girl hisses as she draws in her breath, her ears flicking and whiskers twitching in reaction to the voice … evidently something that she can hear with her own ears.

( Just come out and let me see you. I know this is a memory and I know I can't do anything to stop you… so just scruddy get it over with and let me know who you are. ) The dreaming Skreek follows closely after the maid, eyes wide and ears scanning the trees for sounds.

A child's voice mews, "Do you see her?" But the voice fades, to be replaced by a louder burbling of the water.

The maid's eyes go wide, and she gasps, looking through Chiria at something directly behind her, in the direction of the brook.

Chiri spins around, her hand reflexively dropping to her hip.

( Sebazhian is in his thirties… he would have been five or six when… ) The red-haired Skreek's ears flatten as her hackles rise.

The water of the brook is far more turbulent than such a small body has a right to be. A section of the water rises up, adhering to a surface tension defying any laws of nature, drawing itself into the shape of a lithe female feline.

Chiri shrinks down. "Run! For Star's sake run!" she screams, even though as the words leave her lips she knows it's useless.

The maid falls back. "Oh! Forest spirit! Forgive me! Is this sacred ground? I did not mean to trespass… " She stumbles in her backward rush, tripping over bared roots and tangling bushes, but she protectively cradles the basket, shielding it as she falls back upon the earth. The basket lets out a shrill cry as Chiria's dream-self screams.

The water-feline smiles at the maid. "What is that you have in that basket? Give it to me, and I shall let you leave."

"No… " Chiria whimpers, shrinking down even more. She's practically kneeling in the water now.

The maid's eyes go wide in horror. "No! I – this is a baby! I can't let you … " She struggles to get up, but the branches tear at her cloak and dress, grabbing at her like animated creatures rather than forest shrubbery. She screams. "Please! I beg you! I am on the business of the royal family!"

A child's voice mews, "What was that? I can't see. What is happening?"

Chiri scrabbles towards the basket, trying to grab it or shelter it somehow. ( All of this already happened… it already happened. But I can't let the baby out of my sight. )

The water-feline tut-tuts. "Oh dear. I do believe that you are resisting me. I was given very specific instructions. And since you are hindering me in my task," she spreads her hands outward, and the vines and roots and branches start dragging the maid toward the river, "I shall have to deal with you." She makes a feral grin.

Chiria gains no more ground than the maid does in trying to pull through the animated forest. The water-feline hums that haunting melody, while the baby cries out and the maid screams for her life to no avail. The forest betrays her to the brook, the waters of which swell to swallow her up. The basket is pulled from her grasp, and she fumbles for it even as the waters draw her in. "No! Noooo – "

"Instructions… who gave you instructions?" the dreaming rat shouts out, fumbling to not lose sight of the basket.

The maid is soon quiet, as the water itself wrestles her downward with a strength she could not hope to overcome, even with her panicked struggles to reach the surface and get a gasp of precious air. At last, as the maid's struggles cease, the brook grows calm again. The maid's lifeless body lies sprawled amongst the brambles.

The water-feline calmly walks over to the body … then shimmers and changes shape in the moonlight, becoming more solid. She ignores the child, pulling the garb of the dead maid free, and putting it on herself. This macabre task done, she then walks over to the basket. "Now then, little grub. A pity he thought to specify that you be kept alive." She grins wickedly.

"If I ever get back to Naochi lands, I'm going to have this river drained or dammed or something appropriate," Chiri hisses to herself.

The feline roughly digs into the basket, pulling a squirming baby rat out, and kicking the wicker work into the waters. "Now then … a new life for you." She laughs harshly. "If, that is, you don't kill yourself first to get out of it!" She laughs again, roughly carrying the child as she passes effortlessly through the foliage. The baby rat's shrieks go unanswered, fading into the distance … as the surroundings fade as well.

"Not yet!" Chiri shouts. She chews on her lip and stays in the riverbed, turning around to try and make out a face in the bushes somewhere – the source of the child's voice.

The surroundings are still slowly fading, but through force of will, Chiria seems to be hanging onto the dream for at least a while longer. As she peers about, she cannot find any child hidden in the woods – nor any likely hiding place that would have allowed the child to be heard during this whole ordeal.

The Skreek relaxes, allowing the dream to end. "Not all my answers… but enough."

And the forest gives way to the attic of the tavern, and the wind gives way to the droning of the dream mage … which comes to a close once Willow's consciousness fully returns.

Mystico looks to Willow. "Well!" he says in a pleasant voice, though slightly tired from hours of chanting, "How did it go?"

"Thank you. I know I don't look pleased right now, but you did a fine job." The Skreek sinks down in her circle. "It wasn't good news, but I wasn't expecting it to be."

One of the Lapi's ears droops. "Well … ah … ahem … " He holds out one paw. "One copper, then?"

Willow digs in her pouch and fishes out the coin. "I hope you enjoy it. It's a good chunk of what I have, but you did earn it."

The Lapi's ears both go up considerably as he feels the weight of the coin in his paws. "Thank you very much!" He smiles, then starts to clean up his magic circle and put up his things, lighting a lamp before he blows out his candles. "I suppose I'll be turning in shortly, as will the others. Jak Nakk plans on heading out on the morrow to Half Valley. I don't know that he's quite sold on this notion of going to Kroz … but if not, you should be able to find passage from Half Valley to just about anywhere, if you're willing to wait a bit."

The Skreek tosses herself into one of the straw bunks. "Half Valley alone will be fine. If you see that big cheetah that came with me on your way out, could you ask him to get our stuff packed for traveling?"

The Lapi nods. "Certainly!" He sticks the last of his things into a carpetbag studded with worn-looking patches in the shapes of stars and strange symbols, then heads down the ladder to the main level.

It looks like, for the time being, Willow is alone up here in the attic.

( Hopefully I can scrounge up enough to buy an economy ticket to Kroz. Maybe I can get a discount if I do work for the ship. Otherwise I might just have to sell a few things. ) She folds her arms behind her head. "So who is the 'he' mentioned, I wonder? Dagh? Prince Dack? Absalom? And why on Sinai would they want me along only to place me in a… " Her eyes narrow as she ponders. "Did you want me bitter? Well… I'm bitter, but I'm still no monster. You're as responsible for what I am now as anything else. Weak or not, I hope you're happy."