Kettenrad Quarter – Dining room.
The room is quite large an inviting, with a single clockwork-like chandelier in the center. It's positioned over a large round table that has bench seating all the way around it. The benches lack backs, to allow for freedom of Kadies' bushy tails. The center of the table is unusual, though. It looks like it's been cut out and an insert placed into it. An insert with hinges that is. Against a far wall is a rough cabinet of sorts, filled with various dishes of varying states; from chipped and old to shiny and new.

It's been utter chaos since Zahnrad was pulled from the river a few hours earlier. Amelia was interrogated for a few minutes, then determined to not have been the culprit. So, she's been asked to wait in the compound dining room. Zahnrad has been moved off to some location, but no one has said where yet. Outside there are still various folks talking, and the trees are lit with the lamp lights of practically every Wingnut clan member, young and old (which isn't many, but still). So, here Amy sits. Waiting for, well, anyone to come let her out. They locked the door.

Amelia scratches at her fur, which is still sticking out in all directions after being hastily toweled dry. Exhaustion weighs heavily on her, but she forces herself to stay awake, if not entirely alert. Depending on whether or not the dam was damaged – as she suspects – her role in finding out who attacked Zahn will either be very large or very small. It all comes down to territoriality in the end.

Wham! The door flies open and slams against the wall. In marches probably the last person Amy would have expected to see … Deirdre. She's dressed rather conservatively currently and her hair is tied back into a ponytail. Wham! She closes the door once inside, then strides over to the table and sits down into a chair, then turns to eye Amelia.

"Hello Deirdre," Amelia says tiredly. "Hope you aren't too disappointed that Zahn survived."

"My issues with him are irrelevant at this point. Someone attacked a member of the clan, which is the same as attacking the clan," Deirdre says flatly. "So, who did it?"

Amelia shakes her head, "I didn't get a clear look, but it had to have been someone strong enough to rip out part of the railing and use it as a club. I suppose a Rhian could do that, or someone similar. I doubt it was another Wingnut, since the behavior implies the intruder didn't expect to encounter Zahn on the dam. But that could all just be a cover, too."

Deirdre considers this. "Noted," she replies. "You have been cleared of suspicion. And, I believe that. But, I would like to know why you were out there in the first place. And secondly, what you intend to do about it."

"I heard the prophecy that Zahn would have a fatal accident, so I was there to try and prevent it," Amelia explains. "I was on guard in the control room, since… well, since I assumed you might try to arrange an accident yourself after being overruled at the council meeting."

"As for what I'm going to do about it, that depends on whether or not the dam was damaged."

"I wouldn't try and harm him physically. At least, not until I got him removed from the clan," Deirdre notes, then waves her hand dismissively. "As for the dam, the railing was, as well as some minor damage to some of the framework. Zahn was apparently thrown repeatedly against a support bar." She clicks her clawtips together, then adds, "And regardless of the damage or not, I expected you would be involved. Your relation to the Kettenrads grants you that, at least in their eyes." And then after a long sigh, she adds finally, and if she had to force it out of her mouth, "And I would … like it if you helped."

Nodding, Amelia asks, "Officially, is it your opinion as a Wingnut that there was intent to sabotage or damage the dam by the intruder, but which was thwarted by their encounter with Zahnrad?"

"Honestly, I cannot tell at the moment with certainty. The rain, coupled with the darkness, makes it difficult. And to make matters harder, will have washed away a lot of evidence," Deirdre admits. "But, I will say the point of damage isn't the best. It would have been more effective to strike at the waterwheels or drive shafts if they wanted to sabotage it. Hazarding a guess, he was the target, not the dam. But, that is speculation."

Amelia sighs, and says, "Alright, in that case I can't get the militia involved, unless the head of the clan officially requests for it. All that would entail though is having guards placed on the dam and around Zahnrad. However, it wouldn't be hard to get some of the Chalks to rotate a guard on him, since your Clan is short-handed now. I can justify it since the attack, while likely personal, was still against a member of the community who held a vital position, and since it isn't something covered by the hazardous-work compensation the Clan already receives."

"I do not think we need the militia involved. As for a guard, I'm not sure that would be necessary either, as we do have a few secrets and places still left should we need them," Deirdre responds, then rubs her forefinger along the bridge of her nose. "I … I should tell you that he was hurt pretty badly. The next couple of days will be critical for him. He could die, Amelia."

Amy sits quietly for a moment. "I know. He probably has a pretty bad concussion. I'm assuming you've already sent for Isolde, but it couldn't hurt to send a request to the Castle as well, for Igor to take a look at Zahn."

"We haven't called anyone yet," Deirdre says and strangely, doesn't look at Amelia now. "We've been securing the area first, and making sure everything was still functioning. If the dam broke, such as one of the flow gates, it would have been disaster for a lot more than just one. The failure would have likely cascaded. It was … a matter of priority. And before you say anything, it wasn't my call on that. His parents made the call."

Amelia nods. "I would have done the same," she says, but doesn't look happy about it. "In the morning, I'll start looking into likely suspects. There's a big Jupani with the Gypsies, and I'll have to trade some favors with the otters to have the reservoir and shoreline checked out. We'll find whoever – or whatever – did this. I'm not ruling out the possibility of a vampire or other sort of monster either."

"Once Dieter finishes inspection of the Dam, he said he would go for aid. Gunther is scouting the woods. He inherited good night vision, so he was the best choice," Deirdre adds, then nods. "I suppose it could be a monster, but none have come this close before. As for the Gypsies … has Zahnrad offended them somehow, then?"

"He hasn't had anything to do with them, as far as I know," Amelia says. "Their shamaness had a vision of Zahn dying in the rain before they even got here. I don't really suspect them, but I have to check up on anyone that could have physically done this. That includes Dr. Fether if I can find her, and even a few of my own brothers."

"You think your brothers would have attacked him? So, your clan does still have it in for us," Deirdre says flatly, with a hint of anger.

Shaking her head, Amy says, "No, I don't think they had anything to do with it. But I still need to confirm where they were, all the same. I just have to eliminate all of the obvious choices first before searching for outside culprits."

Looking up suddenly, Amelia says, "Be sure to have Zahn's workshop checked as well to see if anyone broke in or tried to break in."

Deirdre nods her head, then says something she probably hasn't for a while, "Sorry." She stands and straightens her clothing. "I envy you, Amelia," she notes. "And I will do that."

"Envy me? For what?" Amy asks, somewhat blearily.

"You don't come from the pariah clan. You really have no idea what it's like," Deirdre says flatly, then heads to the door. "Mrs. Kettenrad said Zahn's room was open for you to sleep in. She said she'd talk to you in the morning," she adds, then slips out the door.

Getting up from her chair, Amy stretches her muscles to make sure they haven't seized up yet, then heads for the door, assuming it to be unlocked now. Any sleep she can get now will be welcome.

The door is open, and the trip to Zahnrad's room is without incident.

After pealing off her clothes (which, after the soaking and swimming probably aren't worth salvaging) the Kadie curls up on the bed, hugging herself tightly, and eventually cries herself to sleep.

By the time Amelia awakens the next day due to a knock on the door, it's probably noon, or even a bit later in the day, judging from the light coming through the windows. "Are you awake yet?" comes the tired sounding voice of Elsa Kettenrad.

Amelia bolts upright, giving herself an brief headache and several sharp pains from sore muscles. "Yes," she calls, and rubs at her eyes. "I must have been more tired than I realized."

The door slides open and Elsa Kettenrad enters. She looks like she probably didn't sleep at all last night, her fur a mess, her eyes bloodshot. The brown stains on her shirt and pants are likely, well, blood. She did help carry Zahn's body back to the compound. She comes over and sits down on the edge of the bed. "I … I thought you might like to talk," she says, her eyes downward and focused on her hands.

"I… how is he?" Amy asks, looking just has disheveled as the older woman.

"Alive," Elsa answers, her hands rubbing together slowly. "He hasn't regained consciousness, though, and his breathing is shallow."

"Have Isolde and Igor examined him yet?" Amelia asks quietly.

"No. Dieter left earlier this morning to go to the castle. Gunther left a bit ago to fetch Isolde," Elsa answers, then draws in a breath.

"There is something," Amy says. "It may sound silly, but… do you still have the music box that Stephen made for you?"

Elsa tilts her head, then turns to look at Amelia. Her expression is odd, puzzled. "I do. How do you know about that?" she asks.

"It's… it's just that I wouldn't have found Zahn in the river without Stephen's help," Amy manages to say. "If you play the music box for him, even if he's unconscious, it might still help."

Elsa sighs and rubs her eyelids. "Amelia, Stephen has been dead for along time. He couldn't have helped with anything," she says weakly, then wipes her eyes. "He … he died on the dam too."

"In the core shaft, I know," Amy says quietly. "I met him last night. I heard crying while I was waiting in the control room, and… " The girl trails off, unsure of how to continue.

"Storm. He was caught. The backwash pulled him into the shaft," Elsa says, voice cracking a bit now. She turns slightly, then looks directly into Amelia's eyes. "How could you have met him?"

"I met his spirit," Amy explains, trying not to look away. "He didn't know he was dead, not at first. I started to lead him out, and he told me about the music box, how hard he'd worked on it, and how he was supposed to watch out for his little brother. He knew when the attack came, and vanished to try to help Zahn. I ran to the dam, but it was all over by the time I got there. If I hadn't seen Stephen's ghost-light in the river, I wouldn't have known Zahn was there. Stephen even managed to stop the water long enough for me to catch up and pull Zahn ashore."

Elsa closes her eyes, then nods. "Why now, of all times? Why would his spirit show, fourtee… " she whispers, then her lips quirk into a small sad smile. "He must have felt it. He always said he would watch out for his brother. Whatever it was, it must have drawn him back," she says as tears start to trail down her cheeks.

"He waited all that time to fulfill his promise when it would do the most good," Amy agrees, and reaches out to hold Elsa's hand. "He said he was sorry, that he wanted to have grown up with everyone and that he wishes he could have said goodbye."

Elsa's hand curls tightly around Amelia's. And for a time, Elsa sits there sobbing softly. And then Amelia finds herself wrapped in Elsa's arms, Elsa's face buried against her shoulder. "I can't lose Zahn," she whispers. "I can't bury another child. I … I can't go through that again."

Amy wraps her arms around the woman and hugs back. "He's going to be fine. I won't let it be any other way," she promises.

"Some things aren't in our power to control, as much as we may wish it," Elsa says, slowly letting go. "Stephen's music box broke years ago. It used cords that were struck by a rotating drum to generate tones. It was really impressive," she says, shifting subjects, probably to try and think of happier things. "Would you like to see it?"

Amelia nods. "I'd like to see it," she says.

Elsa gets up and says, "Well, get dressed. We'll go for a walk."

"I'll do my best," Amelia says, sliding off the bed. "I probably look like something that crawled out of the swamp still."

"None of us look very good right now," Elsa notes, "No one will notice."

The girl throws one some clothes, and realizes she'll probably have to stop at her own cabin and get out her uniform at some point. For now though, she just focuses on finding something that fits. Then she turns and forces a smile before following Elsa.

"Zahn's shirt is too big for you," Elsa notes, then makes her way to the door. They head out and walk across the rope walkways. It's quiet, as if nothing happened the night before. Even the scent of rain has all but faded from the air. She leads Amelia out to a distant cabin, which must be her residence, as it's near another (probably Andre's), and connected via a closed corridor. Her door has a more mundane lock, which is quickly opened and she goes inside, then beckons Amelia in as well.

Amy steps inside carefully. She's never been in the cabin of another female Kadie, not counting Isolde… who didn't exactly live by Kadie customs anyway.

It's … colorful and well kept. Lacy curtains hang over one of the windows and the walls have even been plastered and painted. In one corner, a large circular nest-like bed sits, a couple feet from the typical stove. Another side has a dresser with a mirror. And there's even a workdesk in here, complete with large sheets of paper and some complex designs drawn out on them. She heads over to the dresser and slides open the top drawer.

The absence of weapons on the wall is the only thing that seems to jump out at Amelia. The room seems so… ordinary, otherwise, to the girl.

"Not what you expected?" Elsa asks quietly as she pulls out a wrapped bundle from the drawer, along with a small wooden frame.

"I just thought it would me more, I don't know," Amelia says, shrugging. "Gadgety, I guess."

"I wasn't born a Wingnut, you know," Elsa explains and walks back over. "I married into it. I guess I never had quite the same desire to have gadgets, even though I've learned to work on them." She offers over the wrapped package and small frame, which looks like it contains a small painting of some sort.

Amy sets the bundle down on the bed, and looks at the painting while she unwraps it carefully.

Amy finds herself looking at a well done painting of a familiar Kadie boy. He doesn't have the same spectral look, naturally, but it's obviously him. He's looking up from a workbench and smiling. "Stephen," Elsa says and wraps her arms around herself absently. The wrapping on the box falls away and Amelia finds herself homding an ornately carved music box, stained in painstaking detail of light and dark along the edges of the carved wood, making them seem more pronounced. Out the side sticks a carved wooden key.

"He looks happy," Amy says of the picture, and cradles the ornate box in her lap. "It really is beautiful," she notes, and tries to wind the key.

"He always was. I can't remember him ever seeming sad," Elsa says. The key winds, the box clicking softly and smoothly as it goes. "It doesn't work anymore," Elsa says, "The cords snapped. I never could bring myself to fix it, or to ask Zahn or Andre to fix it. It didn't seem right. It was Stephen's." She shakes her head and adds, "I know, I'm a silly, old, woman."

Amy keeps winding the box anyway, then lets go of the key.

Nothing. "The trigger is the lid. Just lift the top. You can still see the mechanism turn. It just won't sound," Elsa says.

"Oh," Amy says, and lifts the lid.

And the key on the side starts to turn. In spite of Elsa's statement, a soft melody starts to play as a carved wooden spool inside spins slowly. Protrusions from it strum lightly against a series of cords inside the box, each vibrating with perfect tune. At this, Elsa's ears go pale and she stumbles back against the wall to support herself. And perhaps it's a trick of the light, but for the briefest moment, Amy could swear that the cords in the box shimmer with the same blue light that came from the ghost she saw last night.

Amelia holds the box up to Elsa and smiles. "See? Everything is going to be all right."

Time passes into early afternoon. Amelia spends a goodly amount of the time talking a bit more to Elsa. They both receive word that Zahnrad seems to have stabilized some, and that both Isolde and Igor would be by as soon as possible. Promised she would get to see Zahn later that evening after he was examined, Amelia finds herself waking into the gypsy camp, and into Natasha's wagon.

Madame Natasha's Wagon
Dark. Very, very dark. The Khatta seems to prefer to keep the lights low in her somber wagon. The walls are draped in black fabric with arcane silvery symbols. In the center of the wagon sits a round table that's about enough to seat three people around it. In the center of the table rests a crystal ball. A few feet behind the table hangs another sheet of dark fabric, presumably for keeping her bedding and personal items away from prying eyes.

Natasha is sitting quietly inside, door open. Candles around her flicker softly, illuminating an odd book she's reading. The binding is colorful, ornate and worn. The language on the cover is definitely not Sylvanian. She doesn't seem to notice she has a guest.

Amelia clears her throat to try and get the Gypsy's attention as she stands in the doorway. "Dame Natasha?" she queries.

The book snaps shut and is very quickly put out of sight. "Ech, it is the time for guests these days," Natasha mutters and sits up. Her gaze goes to Amelia and she says, "No that I mind, b… " She stops, stands and walks over. Without even asking, she puts her hand on Amelia's and looks in her eyes. "Vou haf been dancing wit de dead," she says, a statement, not a question.

"Well, not dancing," Amelia says. "But otherwise, yes. The event you predicted took place last night, and if not for some supernatural assistance, Zahn would be dead now. As it is, he's only nearly dead."

Natasha removes her hand and places then behind her back. She strides back to her chair and settles down. "I see, so dat is vhat I felt last night. De spiritual planes vere … active," she mutters, looking worried. "So, vour frien' survived, den? Dat is good. Surprising, but good."

"I need to ask you something about the event though," Amelia says. "When you came to the dam to confirm it was Zahn you saw, you mentioned something was stalking him. At the time, I thought it was just a figure of speech. Did you mean it literally though?"

"Visions aren't exactly clear, child," Natasha notes and waves a clawtip through a candle flame. "Dey speak in allegory sometimes. In ot'er words, de vision may be literal, or figurative. Vhat I saw was a large darkness coming for him."

"How large?" the Kadie asks. "Can you tell me anything else about it?"

"Hard to say. Large, nebulous," the Khatta remarks. "Vou ever dream, child?"

Amy blinks at the odd question. "Of course I dream," she replies.

"Good. Tell me all de details of your last dream," the Khatta says. "Vhat vere people wearing? How tall vere dey? Vhat did vou do?"

The girl opens her mouth, the pauses. "I don't remember," she admits. "But… but surely you remember your visions though!"

"Vou haf to understand, visions are similar to dreams. Dey are impressions, images, and metaphors for events. Sometimes dey are clear, sometimes dey are not. De stronger de magic in de area, the stronger de vision. Veaker magic, Veaker visions," Natasha explains as if Amelia were a small child. "Vhat I saw vas your friend an' a dark shadow following him. I saw de shadow strike out at him through howling wind and falling water. Dat is all. I am sorry. Vour friend, Olivia, has asked me de same questions, more den once."

"It's just that… it wasn't something vague and nebulous that picked Zahn up and smashed him around last night," Amy says. "It had a body. I need to find it."

"I see," Natasha says. She sits back, thinking. "Dere is an option dat coul' be done. But, it be risky, an vour vitch may no like it."

"What is it?" Amelia asks. "I have some witch training, so I can decide if it's risky or not."

"An your frien' family may no', either," Natasha notes and sits up. "De acts of dis worl' imprint on de spirit one. Like, how a violent deat leave an impression in de magic, de ghost, if vou will," she explains. "I … I know rituals to brin' back de moments, to replay dem. To show vhat vas imprinted on de spot. If vour frien' was returned to de spot of de attac, I coul' attempt to use de latent magic in de area to replay de events for some observers. It a hard ritual to perform, an dangerous. Those involved vould be exposed to de spirit vorld for de duration."

Amelia's neck hairs rise up at the notion, but she notes, "It will be some time before Zahn can be moved, I think. I'll keep this ritual in mind as a last resort though. Is there anything else you can tell me? Any strange feelings or similar last night?

Natasha closes her eyes and thinks. "No. I vas jus' readin' in here last night. The tribe vas all in dere wagons as far as I know. Ve don' do much vhen it rain," she says. "I remember feelin' a surge. Dat that someone was lost, an den dat person somehow foun' somethin he had been searching for, for a long time. And den a feeling of peace."

"That was… a different issue," Amy says, then asks, "You've been to lots of places in your traveling though, have you ever heard of strange attacks where someone was beaten to death?"

"A few, ves. Happen in a few towns ve visited," Natasha notes, then frowns. "Ah, I expected dis voul' come at some point."

"A few towns, but not in all of them?" Amelia asks. "Did they occur before you arrived, and did you ever have any premonitions about them?"

"No all, and ves to de second question. I felt them before dey happen," Natasha says, frowning further.

"So whatever did this is following a route similar to yours," Amelia says. "I don't suppose you ever got the impression that it was… well… taunting you?"

"It no happen dat frequently. I never consider it day way," Natasha remarks, her eyes narrowing to slits. "Vhat vould be de poin' child? Ve are nobodies, lost an forgotten."

"That doesn't mean you don't have enemies," Amelia points out. "I'm told your troupe has a bad reputation. Maybe it's deliberate. Maybe this attack is just another way of reinforcing that, somehow. It makes as much sense as some monster developing a sudden grudge against Zahn."

"So, vour sayin' dat someone attack Zahn to attack us. Dat no make much sense," Natasha comments. "Though, ve ofte' get blamed for for it." The Khatta sits back and rubs one of her ears absently in thought.

"Besid', vouldn' vour guard detec' someone else in de area?" Natasha asks.

"If you could write me a list of the towns where these other attacks happened, I'd appreciate it," Amelia says, and thinks about the woman's question. "If this thing isn't a spirit, I don't think it would be detected. We've had plenty of monsters before."

Natasha seems lost in thought and doesn't seem to have heard any of the questions. She seems to mumble something, but for the life of her, Amelia can't make any of it out. She shakes her head, then asks, "Pardo' child, did vou ask somet'ing?"

"Yes," Amy says, looking at the woman oddly. "I wanted a list of the towns that had similar attacks in them, if you could write it down for me."

"Ah, ves, ves. I vill see if I kin remember them all," Natasha says. The Khatta actually looks really worried now. Something is bothering her, even her breathing has increased some as can be seen from the candles nearby flickering wildly the movement of her breath.

"What's wrong?" Amelia asks. "You look… well… almost afraid. Are you sensing or remembering something?"

"That's enough, child," Natasha snaps suddenly. Her voice has changed, if but for a moment the esoteric accent of her tribe seems to have vanished. "Please, go. I will … vill haf vour list later." She then sits back heavily and stares balefully at one of the candles.

Amy twitches and nearly jumps at the retort, then narrows her eyes. "I'll be back later then. If you have any other information about this, I urge you to let me know about it," she says, somewhat sharply.

No answer from the Khatta. She just sits there, starting at a candle.

Leaving the wagon, Amelia blinks to readjust her eyes to the sunlight. She certainly was acting like she was hiding something, the Kadie thinks. She looks around the camp some more, trying to find the wagon of Bravil the Jupani.

Well, that's rather easy to find, really. It's the one twice the size of any of the others. It also has a distasteful smell of decaying meat.

Amelia waits until she's used to the smell enough to be able to ignore it, then goes to the door of the wagon and knocks on it.

"Whut?" comes the bellow of the wolf inside. The wagon rocks a bit as he comes to the door, then swings it open. Amelia finds herself looking up at a huge, bleary-eyed, wolf. "Oh, it be the poofy tail rat girl," the wolf mutters.

"Mmmmm," Amelia murmurs, then says, "Bravil, isn't it? I was wondering if you could help with something?"

"Ves. I be Bravil. Vhat does little rat girl need?" Bravil asks and scratches his cheek lightly. "An vhat vas vour name again? Amolasses?"

"Amelia," Amy answers, and says, "I've heard that Jupani have really good noses, and can follow scents that are days old. Is that true?"

"Ves, dis is true. Unless it cross water or be really, really vet. Vater vash avway smell," Bravil notes and steps down out of the wagon. Boy, he's still tall even off the wagon stoop.

"Oh, so you probably couldn't pick anything up after a big rain like last night?" Amy asks, taking an involuntary step back, then mentally chiding herself for it.

"Depen' on how wet de spot got," Bravil replies. "If it sheltered some, probably. If it be in open, no." He yawns, then asks, "Vou need me to track something? I didn' know vour kind ate meat."

"It isn't meat I'm looking for," Amy says. "Something happened last night, that I'm trying to find out more about. With the rain and all, I guess you were in your wagon all night, right?"

"Veah. No sleep vell, though, bad dreams," the wolf mumbles.

"Really?" Amy asks, suddenly very curious. "What were they like?"

Bravil stands there and scratches his cheek. "Don remember exactly. Jus' remember dey were shadowy. Happen now and den for me. Prolly bad stew," he answers.

"You poor guy," Amelia says, stepping forward and placing a hand on the wolf's knee. "It must be awful to go through something like that all alone in such a… tiny little wagon. Did you notice anything unusual when you woke up?"

"I be sleepin' on de floor," Bravil notes, then shrugs. "De dreams, well, dere is one t'ing dat always stands out. Dey always begin with de soft sound of chimes. It be creepy."

Amelia thinks back on what she learned from Isolde. "Chimes you say? Do you ever smell anything funny, like something burning when there isn't anything burning? Did you wake up all wet, or out of breath like you'd been running?"

The wolf looks at Amelia funny. "No smells," he notes, "An' no, I just woke up on de floor a few hours ago. I dry."

"Do the chimes play a tune, or just ring like they're being blown by the wind?" Amy asks, looking concerned.

"No tune, no' exactly. Just repetitive. A 'ching, ching, ching' sound," Bravil notes. "Vhy, vou like chimes?"

"It just strikes me as odd is all," Amelia says. "Sometimes things like that could mean there's an injury in your head. Have you ever hurt your head really badly?"

"No, I haf a hard head," Bravil boasts. He sits down on the stoop of his wagon and things. "Dere is something strange, too. No bad, I don' mind it, but it still veird. Bah, vou no care about it, vou no eat meat."

Since the wolf is sitting down, Amelia hops up to sit on his knee now. "Oh, you can tell me," she says.

Bravil looks rather confused by the Kadie sitting on his knee. So … he pets the top of her head. "Vell, every now an den, some stew I make taste very minty," he explains. "Can' figure out why I pick up dat causes day. Usually causes bad dreams an … er … bafroom urges."

"And you prepare your stew all by yourself, with nobody else bringing things for it?" Amy asks.

"Vell, ves. I cook it outside my vagon. If I cook it inside, it make it smell to strong," Bravil notes and shrugs. "But I no watch it all the time."

"I guess you made it before it started to rain last night?" Amelia asks, twitching her tail.

"Of course," Bravil answers. petpetpet

Amelia smiles and churrs for the wolf from the petting, then asks him, "How long ago did you start to have the nightmares?"

"Oh, on an off for vears now," Bravil notes as he scratches his chin in thought.

"Do you remember where you were when the first one came?" the Kadie asks.

The wolf shakes his head. "No, ve travel a lot, lots happen. It rough on de road. Hard to remember much past de last year or so," he notes.

"Oh, I guess that would be tough," Amelia says, nodding. "But you probably remember people coming and going, right? It must be a big deal when someone new joins the group, like when Natasha joined up. Do you remember those times?"

"Oh, vell, Natasha been vith us for years. Long as I kin remember," Bravil notes. "I remember, though, she coul' even speak de language vell vhhen she joined. She vas young. Haunted too. Kept to herself a lot. She was pretty scared, screamed a lot in her sleep."

"Probably had ghosts talking to her," Amelia notes. "That would be pretty scary. Did you ever have anyone talk to you that made you feel sleepy, or where you couldn't remember what you talked about?"

"Vell, sometimes vhen Natasha vas tryin' to calm me down, I guess. She always had a way to make me sleep," Bravil says, then looks at the squirrel funny. "Other den her, no. I don' talk to a lot of people. People afrai' of someone big. T'ink we just bash t'ings."

"I'm small, and I bash lots of things," Amy points out. "I don't suppose you have any of your stew left over from last night?"

"Might, yuh. It no be any good anymore, though," Bravil remarks.

"That's okay," Amy says. "I know someone who might be able to find out what made it taste funny though."

"Oh, uh. I haf to get up an find de pot," Bravil says. And instead of waiting for Amelia to move, he just starts getting up.

Sliding off, Amy hops to the ground and gets out of the wolf's way, taking the moment to check and see if anyone in the camp is watching them.

Not really. Some of the smaller children seem to be peeking around wagons and watching her. Most just seem to be ignoring her. Heck, there's Djivan sleeping on top of his wagon in the distance. Amelia can just make out the fact he's snoring. Bravil lumbers off behind the wagon.

As Amelia looks around, she notices something in the mud. Aside from the usual footprints, which are just everywhere, there is the faintest circular impressions every few feet leading to, or maybe from, Bravil's wagon. Amelia recognizes the pattern, she's sure seen it enough when she's walked with one of her polearms and used it for a walking stick. Bravil comes back from around the wagon and holds up a small ( to him) ceramic pot. "Found it," he declares. "De stew cooked to de walls, but maybe it be helpful."

"Oh, great," Amy says. "I'll be sure to bring back the cleaned pot before you need it tonight, okay?" she promises.

"Sure. No rush. I no dat hungry today anyway," Bravil notes and he offers the pot to Amelia. And that's when she finds out it weighs like fifty pounds.

With a grunt, Amy sets the pot down before she can hurt herself. "Ah, it's… heavier than it looks. I'll have to tie it to my back I think," she notes, and peaks inside the pot.

Inside there is a thick goo glued to the walls. Chunks stick out of it, which is probably rabbit meat.

"I could probably take a bath in this thing," Amy quips as she pulls her head out. "Do you maybe have a little bowl or a big spoon I could use instead?"

"Sure, but it no good anymore," Bravil insists. He lumbers off again and slips into his wagon. After a minute, he comes out and hands Amelia a bowl and a spoon.

"I'm not going to eat it," Amy says, and uses the spoon to try and scoop the freshest bits of goo into the bowl.

And in a few moments, Amelia has a bowl of very unappetizing looking goo.

The Kadie takes out her kerchief, and wraps the bowl with it, while saying to Bravil, "You must get tired of stew all the time. Do you like fish, or maybe roasted meat?"

"Veah, but stew is easy to make," Bravil says and shrugs.

"Well, since you've been so friendly, how about I have some dinner brought to you so you don't have to make it yourself?" Amy offers.

Bravil considers that. "Vell, only if vou bring something for Natasha too. I, er, uhm," he stammers and scratches an ear. "I try an look out for her."

"Does she share your stew sometimes then?" Amelia asks, looking up at the wolf.

"Sometimes, veah," Bravel notes.

"That's very kind of you to share like that," Amy notes, and hands the spoon back to Bravil. "She must be very fond of you."

"Ech, hard to tell wit' her. She no get close to anyone," Bravil notes and drops the spoon into the pot with a splut. "She stay by herself mostly."

Amy glances back in the direction of Natasha's wagon. "Does she ever seem to be like a different person for a moment, until she remembers who she's supposed to be?" she asks.

"Sometimes vhen she upset, she falls back to speakin' like she used to vhen she join us. At least she know de language now an jus goes to her ol' accent now. She used to jus' start yellin' in some weird soundin' language," the wolf answers.

"When was the last time she was upset like that?" Amy asks, smiling innocently to the big wolf.

"Like whut? Speakin in a strange language?" the wolf asks.

The Kadie nods. "Yeah, speaking in a strange language."

"Oh, vears and vears ago," Bravil responds. "It neat soundin' language, very fluid. I no be able to talk de way she coul'. But, she only did dat, I t'ink, cuz she didn' have a very good understanding of de languages here. So, she talk in what she grew up speakin'."

"But she talks regular when she needs to calm you down?" Amy asks. "Do you get upset a lot?"

"Me? No, no really. Jus when de tribe is threatened or she get threatened. I de muscle," the wolf notes, then shrugs. "Big surprise, eh? I be huge."

"You don't ever have to actually fight though, do you?" Amelia asks, making it sound as if it were the most horrible thing that could happen.

"Now and den, yes," Bravil replies with a shrug and hefts up the pot in one hand. He really makes that look easy. "We been attacked on de road a lot. Had to crush some undead a few week before we found dis place, in fact. Though, really, Natasha handled dem more effectively." He waves his free and and adds, "One wave, some strange chant, and dey collapsed."

"That's really impressive," Amelia says. "I thought only priestesses could do things like that."

"She powerful, vhen she vant to be," Bravil remarks and heads back behind the wagon to deposit the pot.

"That's good to know," Amelia says. "I'll be back later on, okay? I need to ask Lili about more dance lessons."

One of Bravil's huge hands waves from behind the wagon. "Bye, Amelia," he says.

"Take care, Bravil," Amy says as she heads back towards town, her head full of potentially dark implications about things. First, to the Gnarly Tree, she thinks. Morgan might be there, and I can use Isolde's herb books to look up mint-flavored herbs. And maybe Dr. Pike can tell what was added to the stew with her alchemy, just to be sure. A stop at the Frog and Peach would be needed as well, to order a nice dinner to bring back to the wolf and to Natasha. And maybe a talk with an otter about keeping a watch on the wolf's pot…

Maybe it's just a trick of the wind, but as Amelia heads towards town, she hears the soft, rhythmic, chiming of … something … off in the woods. It's creepy and it seems to stick in her head. Surely she is just imagining it, last night was rather rough, she's still sore, and tired after all.