Stallions of Siren's Crest [social | Sin]

The moon is bright, casting its silver light as diamonds and pearls in the surf as it teases my hooves in the sand. I can't help but snort out hot air and flick at the flies who dare try to land on my flank, troublesome insects - but no less valid in their right to life. Still…. The buzzing of their wings brought me back to memories of the Underdark where insects ruled the many swamps and strange plant growth. Shaking my whole body, the dark red of my coat looking near black in the night, I start with a steady walk down the beach. It's well past midnight, even the city's thrown-out drunkards are no doubt in their beds - either of sidewalk or inn I don't know, no do I care. For tonight? My soul and mind are in the wind, the waves, and the sand. I've turned into quite the insomniac as of late, now that the city's rebuilt and everyone is finding their place in Siren's Crest. How many nights now have I ran the line where ocean and sand meet? It's been months since the first anniversary of the siege. Darious, we found out recently, had been killed. I refrain of thinking him as murdered, though it is probably still a proper term. Killed, really, is the simple word for it. To think he thought he could go against the devils of his family? From the few books I'd managed during the months in Siren's Crest before the war and siege I'd read all I could about devils, even demons, after I'd seen the butler of the Taeryn Estate. One did not go against devils, literal guns blazing, and expect to win.

Maybe he had nothing left to lose? I know what that feels like, after all, had my journey up the coast eventually to Siren's Crest not been something similar? Losing everyone. Family. Friends. Horses. Ponies. Dogs. Falcons. I would have had my intended named that very spring, a choice made and negotiated carefully by my mother, father, grandmother, grandfather, and likewise his. Being an only child my marriage was to be weighed carefully, and as such it had been postponed from last spring when there had been no clear match. What good was I then? Without a tribe? Without a set path? Without the guidance from my family and elders around me? Darious must have felt the same. Removed from his family, scorned by his brother. Harmonia moved on, possessed by some strange ancient magic that had seemed similar to Black Agatha's but so very different. Megan moved on as well, the Viking princess-turned-queen rising to her position with her bitch-in-heat of a warrior we'd joined forces with during the siege. He had been just as alone as I once was, not even a ship or dwarven friend remained. But instead of changing like the seasons, learning new trades well… trying to learn new trades, he went down as the impulsive warrior he was. Like all of them had been. It was clear why the three had been such good friends. And to have their triad broken as it was? I can't help but feel sadness for them. Dancing my feet in the surf I realized I had trotted quite a ways down the shore, the lights of Siren's Crest far behind me. Looking up into the sky the winds whispered the time. Plenty of hours still before dawn would rise, plenty of time still to run free of my troubles.

Many thought me a domesticated druid. Even now, managing the Gladelight Estate as I did and running about town - I heard the whispers. There wasn't much my ears didn't pick up - and what I didn't the mice, rats, snakes, and spiders in the walls kept note of. Having lived in the city for as long as I had now? The beasts of burden, pests, and roaming strays had all become a bit smarter. A bit more self-aware. A bit more awakened. And the smartest of them loved gossip just as much as the town's criers. They saw a druid content in her ways, fascinated by city life and enamored with the wonders of the more modern way of living. I no longer dressed plainly in linens meant for long-term wear and tear. My shoes were soft. My skin clean and even perfumed some days when I felt like a pampering. They saw a glorified servant, a pup at her Mistress' heels. Well. Let them think that. Even the ground has to rest during winter. Even the sea-storms must disperse and rejuvenate before roaring back together. Even the bear hibernates until the spring. A screaming neigh mixed in with the breaking waves cracked like thunder on the shore as I reared my front legs in glee and freedom. Pounding the ground, the envy of any blacksmith, I hammered my way through the surf, water not slowing me down in the slightest. I was a good 16 hands tall at my shoulders and full of nothing but muscle, power, might, and hot-horse. I was a warhorse, trained by Shadowrunner. I was his legacy, and in my blood his wild sang to me, spurring me on faster and faster until I was nothing but a black comet parting the surf along the beach, leaving Siren's Crest even farther behind.

I didn't slow for at least an hour, my speed unmatched by any horse I'd yet to meet again. Between the paces Shadowrunner sent me through when I first arrived and the enhancements on the metal bangle-cuffs I wore at all times like another layer of skin? I was the wind when I became a war-beast. Some druids were against wearing metal. Some ate meat without a problem. I was neither of those. A lot of townspeople were surprised to hear someone so small such as I could become such large fearsome beasts that wreaked havoc if I so chose. A warhorse. Hyena. Bear. Great python. Squid. Killer whale. Even vortexes of the elements themselves. Easy. My human form is my state of rest, saving my energy and might for when I call on it. It was winter, the calm before the storm, the mirror top of a pond. Everything was a cycle of power and sleep… why would my body be any different? But I was rather they thought as they did. A reputation was a dangerous monster after all, one that, if cracked even a little, caused the whole thing to come crumbling down. I was very guarded of my reputation. A person of my tribe was only as good as their deeds. Their words. Their actions. And further still? The actions and reputation of your father and mother. Grandparents. Great-parents. Uncles. Siblings. Even pets and beasts of burden. In a tribal world where your task and profession was as specific as ours were? Actions spoke loudest. It is why it hurt so much to have the memory orb played. To have the three of them constantly scoff at my steadfastness of adhering to the customs of an arranged marriage? It burned like sour wine.

Salt clung to my coat like a cloak, I could feel the brine gripping tight to my legs, flank, neck, and tail. My mane was matted and looked like, I imagined, like thin snakes or leeches attached to my neck. A piece of shell or something was wedged in my hoof - Sabroth wouldn't be pleased when I sent a runner to rouse him from his bed early to help rub me down and pick my hooves; shapeshifting back to human without the Stabelemaster's handy work would be miserable. But no one else knew explicitly about my evening runs like he did. The rest of the Estate probably knew to some extent, rumors and whispers were everywhere. I could only hope though that Aura didn't know, as focused as she was on the city. Or know the reason why I ran under the moon. Blast the sorceress, why must my thoughts always return to her?!? Slowing to a trot, then a walk, then a simple meander at a snail's pace I snuffed around the piece of land I'd ran myself too. Siren's Crest was leagues behind me, somewhere to the north. Miles away. My best timed pace was twice that a normal horse, plus some, due to my four metal cuffs. At a full never-ending sprint? I'd gone over 50 miles in an hour. And that was before spell casting.

Heavy foam from both the sea and my sweat coated my sides, labored my breathing, and I could feel the wild pouring out of my pores. Every bit a stallion, despite gender, I was one with my Circle. Thoughts of her still hadn't been forgotten though (and how could they?) so I dropped to my knees and began to roll in the sand and surf - a poor attempt to itch at the salt on my flank. To really get clean enough I'd need to locate fresh water. Mid-loll in the sand my mind began to wander again… her smile, the way she drank tea, the strange way she spoke when deep in writing in one of her journals - an occurrence I'd now seen many a time curled as a cat perched on her desk in the late hours when neither of us could sleep, and the weather wasn't fit for running. I had known the sorceress now for nearly 3 years, ignoring the twisted year I missed, and only a year and a few months since I'd bared my heart and emerging feelings to Aura's corpse. Those five minutes… what a lifetime. It still kept me up at night, unable to sleep with a twisted stomach and tight throat. She'd almost not come back. Autumn had said spirits usually come back within a single minute, most times faster, immediately upon conclusion of the spell. But Aura Gladelight? Five. Five and then some. It was a good thing horses couldn't cry like humans did.

In retrospect I'm glad Darious and Megan weren't there; they'd been off getting themselves nearly squashed to death by the airship rubble instead. It would have been embarrassing beyond belief to have them hear my nearly failed attempt at luring Aura back to life. I know I often failed at any attempt at something new. Impossible not to. But this? Never before had I spoken so passionately about, well, anything like that. Especially like that. Who was I to fall in love? What did I even know about love? It wasn't sex, not like I knew the three of the others to whine and pine for. Call it what you wanted to… but sex was.. Well… For expanding the tribe. The springtime repopulation of the wilds. I knew there was pleasure in it of course. I was a druid, not a savage. And even when I spoke of my concerns to Harmonia on the stair steps of the old Senate building and not seeing the sense in such things; despite her telling me I'd soon change my mind, she was sure, if I only gave it a chance, I trusted the archer's words as truth. Obviously there was something to it - sex and passion. But the way Darious often spoke of it? And Megan? It seemed like something most did for notches in their belt. I…. …I didn't want to be just a notch…. But I couldn't be anything more, clearly. She nearly hadn't come back. My words hadn't been enough Only a dog's hair weight more had swayed her soul.

Whinnying in the shoals I was rolling around in, determined to find a better place to sulk, I heaved my weight up and out of the sand - looking dreadful I’m sure. And it itched even more now. Fucking hell. I'd known better. Did know better. But the thoughts in my head made me stupid. Unlike Aria who'd already impressed the whole seeding Estate. Hrump. I hadn't needed someone else to take care of the mundane tasks a personal assistant did for Aura. I'd been managing just fine on my own, thank you very much. I'd catch up on sleep via literal cat naps and tea, or when I relaxed in the stable under the bristle brush after a hard run, or when my cat-self was hoisted and plopped on a pillow on her bed after a long evening of tea and writing in her journal and ended up transformed by morning…. But I always made sure to sneak out of Aura's arms in order to make tea on time. And never spoke of those nights. Goddess no. Never. It was an unspoken rule, yes. I mean… who could resist curling up with a cat after all? I couldn't blame her. And it was so warm with the curtains drawn and the scent of the leathered dire-wolf blanket mixed with oolong and ink and… Shaking the thoughts away I nickered to myself, a scold. Water. Fresh water. I needed to get some of the brine off of me before turning around and heading back. I could of course ride the thermals back north, dozing in the currents, but then I'd be stuck with the salt-horse feeling until I'd re-transformed and cleaned up from there and really it would be too much a bother by that point.

Fresh water had a certain smell to it, a taste in the air most people overlooked. Some rangers could spot it. And for a druid such as myself? Easy. It helped too I was somewhat familiar with the outer ranges of my sprinting distance. The leagues right around Siren's Crest I knew like the morning tea tray. I'd walked the land over and over until it was perfectly seared in my memory, both before and after the siege. And my range was growing. Soon? I was pretty sure I'd know exactly how many boulders stood between the coast and the river ridge that was up the hill another half mile. And none of those rope-er fake-rock assholes either. Landscape ruiners It'd been invigorating stomping them to the ground. Stumbling in an ant hole I was knocked out of remembering the days leading to the siege. But trying not to think of them just made me think of those stressful days even more. It'd been chilling and enlightening both to walk through Black Agatha's tower. Darious and Megan had been steadfast against their dopplegangers - the sensation of seeing a double of them had been strange indeed. Them each finding a trinket that held value to them? I remembered shaking my head, wondering what on earth the magic of the tower would think I'd care for. Possessions weren't a high priority. Even myself… as later acknowledged by the magic once the reality of the situation was revealed…. What's a high priority. Facing Aura then, at least a damn good replication of her, had been like a hot iron poker through my chest. At one point I knew I'd been struck with confusion, and the wild that flowed through me had overflowed and clouded my vision. It had been an easy trap to fall to. It was easier, after all, to pretend, and believe, that I was fighting mimics of my friends than it was to fight Aura.

I'd froze. Uncertain in what to do. I'd been ready for a game of lion, tiger, bear… like rock paper scissors - only more drudic in nature. Snort. Nature. Man, I killed myself at times. But there, instead of me? Was Aura. I'd been so glad she put me behind a wall of force. She'd shown we were truly dopplegangers when the sudden invasive -yank- had swapped us places. It let me think through, or at least try to, work through the obstacle in front of me. Fighting myself? That would have been easy. Fighting Aura? Not so much.

The teacup had been what remained as my possession for continuing forward. A specific teacup. A chipped teacup. The magically produced one had faded with the puzzle, or been consumed by the tower, or…. Something. I had no idea. Magical know-how wasn't my forte. But the real one? With the chipped edge after I'd floundered and dropped it, too nervous and worried I'd mess up… I wondered where it was. Probably dust in the soil beneath the new Estate more than likely. But seeing it again? After Aura had insisted on using it again and keep it in her cupboard? At least until Samantha came, with her white dragon and Viking horde, it had been used regularly. I loved and loathed seeing it at the same time. It was a constant reminder of my failure. But an encouragement to do better in the future. I think Aura just found it endearing or silly.. But I dunno. I never asked her about it. The scent of fresh water was stronger now, the small river was just above the ridge. The shell in my hoof was driving me up a goddamn wall and the itching. Gods the itching. I couldn't wait to plunge in the night-cold river and shake the sea off of me. I'd run the fields home. It took longer, the road more winding than simply following the coastline. But there wouldn't be salt. I just had to hope I wouldn't lame my foot while I ran. Megan wasn't here anymore to mend hurts and pains.

And just as I suspected? The river felt amazing on my chilled but still horse-hot flank. By Black Agatha, yes. The contended horse sounds must have sounded unnatural but I didn't care. Oh yes. Dunking my head under, twisting and horse-paddling my way into the deeper bend of the river? I could feel the grime shedding off of me. My tribe would be embarrassed for me if they knew how much I enjoyed being clean now. And pampered. Not that I ever let Darious or Megan know. If Darious did? He'd have stopped at nothing trying to flirt his way into a hot spring or bath with scented soaps and lotions and… or wait… how did I confound Darious with Megan? By the raging storms the cleric could just not take no for an answer. I enjoyed our date. My ermmgh first date…. And really my last too. Hadn't been on one sense. The food was good, even if Megan flustered herself over forgetting my aversion to meat. The water nice, the wine… missing something special about it. But then she'd described how she'd ran from her tribe's arrange marriage for her and… well…. It just brought too many memories from home to my mind. From that point on I'd lost any budding interest that might have been growing. And now? Well, marriage was just out of the question. Obviously. How could I have a husband.. Or wife… if I were still to be employed by the Estate? It wouldn't be fair to the other to have a partner so distracted. And neither would it be fair to me. Managing the Estate, keeping things orderly and tidy for Aura. I'd found my peace with it. My winter hibernation. My new home. Here in Siren's Crest. With…. Her…

Blowing bubbles in the stream and watching them disappear like small white pearls in the dappled moonlight I sighed a dramatic horse sigh. Again, my thoughts were back to her… and wondering what it would be like to serve her… and her… future…. partner…. It wasn't long into the rebuild of Siren's Crest Aura had her first would-be suitor step towards the planning tent and ask for a private word. I couldn't help myself. I eavesdropped. As a mouse I blended in with the grass and dirt despite my trademark coloring of black-cherry fur and two-toned eyes. It had been so much like the scenes I'd witnessed at the Prancing Eel I couldn't help a mouse-snort of laughter. He of course just thought it was a mouse chip. Aura knew better. I'd… ahh… ermm… well…. It'd been an awkward throat clearing description of the comparison followed by a 'sorry for getting caught eavesdropping' moment between us. Luckily Aura hadn't been too mad - but she had been rather stressed that day and hadn't taken it that well either. Like when I'd stumbled through the description of Black Agatha actually being in the Estate and masquerading as a goat. Or when I'd had to tell her someone Megan had been spreading rumors about hobgoblins and the like planning an attack on Siren's Crest by speaking out loud in the Eel. I'd tried to make scones that night in apology, but instead I'd made a poor excuse for biscuits that had been tossed for the ants. It was just normal camp-ration stew that night for dinner, and I kept mostly to myself, content to listen to Megan ramble on by the fire. I remember, I didn't slept much that night.

Circling lazily in the river, my hooves occasionally hitting the riverbed, I kept an eye on the stars through the trees, the sounds of the forest singing me into melancholy. I had to be getting back to the Estate soon. I didn't think I could make the solid run twice in one night. Hoisting my weight out of the river, water making me look black as pitch now even after I shook out as much wet as I could, I nearly tripped when I put weight down on my hind foot without the comfort of water supporting my weight. By the feel? I defiantly had a swollen hoof. It'd numbed lightly in the water, but with weight back on it? The full force was coming back. Fuck.

Stepping carefully on three legs, fourth tucked slightly up to my side, I whine-huffed in annoyance. This is why horses wore horse shoes… but in my position it was difficult to have such things attached. This was just bad luck, plain and simple. Necking my head out and drawing my foot closer I tried to grapple the offending object out of my foot - but in addition to I'm sure looking ridiculous I just didn't have the dexterity to get behind and above my foot with my mouth. Huffing again I gave up. It was one thing to let my wild adrenaline surge and heal wounds - but it was another to heal around an invasion. My Moon bond gave me the ability to heal my own wounds in the thick of battle, as I often had of course, but rarely ever had I ever been injured with a projectile or other embedded object. A claw wound or bite? Healed easy. But to have something inside the flesh? I would just heal over it, causing more problems in the long run. Megan's cleric powers were better at it than my own, but, she was Up North. I had a few options in front of me. Heal it, enclosing the offending rock, shell, or whatever was wedged in the sensitive part of my hoof and have it removed when I returned to town. I'd be able to run full sprint without a problem but the process of having an unknown object sealed inside offended me. I could ignore it, and steadily walk home… all…. 50 miles… or so…. On three legs… Oh that sounded dreadful.

I could always shapeshift into something else, but the uncertainty of where the stone-what-have-you-shell ending up pushed in deeper in the new shape highly contrasted the other potential of the object just dropping out. I did possess the power to choose what shape changed with me - I had, however, the unfortunate habit of shifting without bringing my possessions with me if I was too spooked, startled, or panicked in my shapeshifting; a habit Sadie abhorred when I came in with a ruined uniform that needed her skills - but since I didn't know precisely what it was that was stuck? It was a hit-and-miss if I would end up making it worse or not. I was not a gambling girl. The 'thing' would remain. And so began my hike back through the forest and fields towards Siren's Crest. I'd gotten no more than a quarter mile or so when I sensed bandits trying to surround me.

Rolling my eyes, ignoring them for the most part, I kept my head facing forward and continued walking down the road. Really, they thought they were being sneaky? Pathetic. Of course I did hold the advantage - I knew from the lack of bug sounds something was nearby, and the way the shadows moved, and by the new smells on the wind, and.. Well. I was quite the paranoid one ever since the Underdark. I hadn't forgotten that large electric many-legged eel thing. Or the rude cows. Or the lack of sun, and fresh air, and storms, and the sea, and… well… everything. "Come on nae lads! Tha'une 'ill fetch ah good price. Look at teh size of 'et!" My ear swiveled to listen behind me as I kept walking the road. Did… didn't they really think? I nickered a soft chuckle, yes. Yes they did. Bandits. They were just so….. cute- thinking that anything they found automatically belonged to them. Part of me was flattered. Why yes, a stallion of my statue would fetch a high price at auction, thank you for noticing. The rustling drew closer, but still I ignored them. They hadn't done harm yet, and I was still counting down the 49.5 miles left to go and making the not-so-quick mental math calculations in how long it would take me to get home. Besides, I was just a horse, minding my own business, incapable of picking up on the tromping stealthy bandits or making movements that would signal I understood them. Never mind I was following the road with a lamed foot. Really, to give them the benefit of the doubt, they probably thought I was an escaped cart horse that'd been injured and was trying to make my way back to my master's stables. Well, they weren't wrong, but they weren't right either.

A rope lassoing around my neck and synching snug caused me to pause. I'd gotten distracted, and now look where it'd gotten me. Small barbs gripped into my coat and mane as the noose tightened even more, another loop snagging my drawn-short-from-surprise neck pulling from the opposite side. Shame on me thinking they were incompetent and underestimating them. Annoyance flashed through me then as a third rope came spinning from the front of me. I could see them clearly now, a band of bandits numbering around 6 or so all were stepping onto the road. They all held ropes and one was tying theirs into a makeshift halter. Like hell I was going to allow that gross disgusting thing in my mouth. Screaming a horse scream I lunged at the bandit in front, a tabaxi by the smell, rearing my hooves and thundering them down in front of him. I felt one of ropes against my neck go slack - my charge too powerful for one of them to hold onto it would seem. The other? It barely took a side-eye to see he was built like Thallen. Shit. I was at the disadvantage here. If they knew I was a druid…. A young woman no less, who was very not impressive in her human form… this squabble would turn from a capture-for-the-markets into something entirely different. And worse. My access to spells was limited due to having no voice, hands, thumbs, or human mind. Add to it my lamed foot? I could already feel the shock-burn in my back leg throbbing from pushing off both feet to charge to the front. Shifting into something with flight was sounding much better now, despite the cons I had thought of earlier.

"Whoah now big fella! We're justah gonna see to et ye're relocated somewhere better tha' teh wild road ye find yerself on." A different voice from before, no more cultured than the first. Rolling my eyes and flashed my hooves in front of me again. I'd have to be careful. Despite my speed and stature? My warhorse skin didn't last long in combat - and I was easy to hit. "'is une's ah beau Boss!" A third voice, from behind me. Excuse me? I kicked out with a hind leg instinctively to the annoyance who'd walked up behind me. Didn't he know not to walk up behind a horse? That'll teach you to look under my tail… "Ah beau? My, what a big lass then. She'll bare fine colts then if we pair 'er up with Pol. Or even fetch ah higher price!" The stereo-like laughter around me encouraged me to flatten my ears and bare my teeth. I was no one's broodmare. Literally or symbolically.

Horse-screaming again I yanked my head in a throw to try and dislodge the Thallen built bandit on my right, spinning up to my front feet in a rear to kick out with both hind legs in his direction. When that didn't work I lunged towards him - only to draw up short. It was an orc. I hadn't noticed specific details in my side-eye, but now? I could see the rugged thicker skin, protruding teeth, and the shade of grey that could only belong to an orc. The whites of my eyes, I was sure, were glowing in the moonlight as I reared again, this time in shock. Adrenaline and instinct had a grip on my brain, humanity slipping as I yanked again, a fearful horse-cry this time as the orc took a strong steady step forward to grip my mane, the rope wrapped around his palm tightening the slack. No no no nonononononono Bucking I resisted as best I could, common sense sliding off of me like the rest of the river water spraying from my skin. My heart was a heard of wild horses in its own right, flooding me with instinct. The pain in my hoof? Gone. Snapping I death-gripped around the orc's arm, bruising the flesh immediately. But still he held on, keeping my head down like a mother cat lifting her kitten. Laughter was all around, the bandits enjoying their lucky find and the struggle the beast was having.

"There, there, beau. We ain't gonan hurt ye." The orc spoke. "Hold et down boys!" Another shouted as more ropes were passed above and below my neck. Something was jammed into my mouth, the orc jarring my jaw open via a pinch point at my cheek. Leather, stale leather, and a bit of metal that already sent aches through my teeth. The crude halter I'd noticed earlier. Gagging at the taste I tried to rear my head up, but a counter effect was forcing me to buck again. A weight, heavier than any I'd pulled or carried before settled on my back. The orc was now astride me, knees and heels painfully squeezing the breathe from my lungs. Screaming again I bucked. I rocked. I spun in circles as best I could, tugging ropes free of the weaker bandits, but nothing was throwing the beast that burdened my shoulders. Get. Off. Of. My. Back. It was all I could think of. My mantra. My only thought as the wild horse spirit possessing me fought the break. Dust coated my damp flank, foam had built up on my neck, and with each attempt at throwing the orc? I felt my legs shaking a bit more and more. The heat in my hoof creeped back - forcing me to three feet again. Blood was in the air, the hoof split now. Hands patted my neck and sides. The leather and metal ground into my teeth, gagging my tongue. My sides heaved despite the fact the orc held my head high with no slack in the halter. I'd underestimated them again. The orc clearly had experience with horses. And I had ran leagues on the beach earlier. I'd been no even match-up.

"Keep whatever's wrong wit' teh foot there. It'll help keep et lame till we can secure this monster o' ah horse at camp." The orcs voice was smug. The cheater. He knew he'd have been no winner had I been in control of all four feet. Fear and embarrassment now were my primary thoughts. It was a good thing horses couldn't cry like humans. Or turn red. My human mind was coming back in the aftermath of the adrenaline fading, realizing how 'Megan-waking-up-naked-in-a-gravesite' level of shit I was in. With all the ropes around me and the deeply lodged thing in my foot? I couldn't shapeshift into something else and flee. Anything small would hide me for some time, but I didn't want to transfer such an injury to anything smaller. And flight? My wings would be tangled in an instant. And then? I'd be forced back to human. Best case scenario they'd recognize the colors I wore and demand a ransom from the now well-known Gladelight Estate. Worse case? ….. I didn't want the worst case. I'd rather be sold at auction than the worst case. Spurred into a walk, being led by two of the other bandits, the tabaxi from before and a human, I took the path of lesser evil and followed. It was humiliating. I'd almost rather have to re-suffer through the memory orb incident. At least that wasn't something that had really happened… Mountain top my ass… I tuned out the jovial talking around me, laying my ears flat and keeping my mouth as still as possible. The impromptu bit they'd used hurt something fierce, sitting in my mouth all wrong and poking at my tongue, scraping my gums, and clanking on my teeth.

The weight on my back had to be at least 300 pounds. And as we walked an offshoot trail? More and more of the bandits threw their gear astride me behind the orc, increasing the weight - at least until I kept 'accidently' limping a bit more lop-sided over and over to 'drop' their belongings on the trail. The pettiness didn't make me feel any better, but it didn't make me feel worse. It took about 20 minutes of additional off-trail walking to make it to their camp. A fire hidden by stone slabs kept the light and heat directed in only the immediate area. Smaller tents surrounded a larger central pavilion tent where tables were laden with tools, loot, and gear. Crates were stacked at the ends, some pried open already. I recognized some of the business sigils on the sides. They'd been looting from merchants who did business in Siren's Crest. Did the patrols know of this?

I was lead to a spike nailed into the ground - a great big climbing piton of a thing that had a link through the pinhole. The orc finally swung his leg over and dismounted. Not once had he released the pinch of his knees or heels - a horseman familiar with breaking wild horses it seemed. Tied now to the post, sweat-foam dry on my skin and itching again something fierce, I kept as far back as the chain would allow. A hefty pat to my neck turned into a smack and a laugh as I tried to bite his arm. He left, joining the rest of the group. I could hear the laughter and jokes, the muttering of the gold they'd make on selling a horse like me. Joke's on them though. Winter didn't last forever. Spring always came back. My hind leg was permanently tucked under my belly now, the smell of blood from it still fresh enough to let me know there was some clotting, but not enough to fully stop it yet. Thank goodness horses were masters at standing for hours on end, even sleeping standing up. I don't think I would be able to stand back up if I sat down. Which always looked funny for a horse. I flicked my tail lightly, horse-hrumping to myself as I swiveled my ears around to listen for any change in the mood of the camp. When they settled down and I was more confident that they thought I asleep? That's when I could make my escape. It would have to be another hooved creature, the wound wouldn't transfer as much as just adjust to the new shape. A boar. Boars were determined, nasty, and resilient. The honey badger of the hoofed world. My boar-badger self wouldn't give a shit that it's leg was lamed. I wouldn't be as fast as a boar, but I could make good time.

By now tea would be late. Dawn was approaching soon, the first stirring of morning bird calls telling me it was easily around 5am. At best, if I escaped now, I would get home…. Well… A perfectly healthy boar-me could walk shy of 8 miles in an hour. Running was out of the question. Injured? Even with a boar's resilience? It'd be a generous 6 miles… realistically probably 4. That was 6 and a half hours in perfect health…. A rounded up to…. Thirteen… hours…. On… Oh fuck. Evening tea was going to be late too. Never mind all her other tasks today that wouldn't get done.

I'd never been late late to serving tea. Even throughout the year of rebuild. I always had tea ready, more or less on time. Every day. This would be the first time the morning ritual routine wasn't done. Would Aura be up in time? Would this now cause her to be late to her meetings and appointments? My eyes narrowed. Would Aria be the one then to realize her tardiness and take it upon herself to rouse the aasimar from her chamber? Next time I'd just run around the city walls when I felt like running the waves! My throat ran dry. What would the rest of the Estate think? No one knew where I'd ran to. Or even that I went on a run. Would they think I just up and left? Like Darious did? That I perhaps followed Megan northward? Gotten tired of confinement and left the city to escape to the woods? Would anyone come looking for me? Would she notice? Or would she think it something odd but un-notable and dismiss the lateness of tea as something that was just bound to happen and not make a big deal of it? My breathing quickened.

I fidgeted, pawing the ground with a front hoof in worried agitation. I had to leave. Now. The injury could be healed, the stone enveloped into my foot and dug out later. I needed the speed of Shadowrunner to even get close to an explainable something-mutter-something excuse of why I was late in my duties. Even my walk was nearly as fast as boar's usual run. A full steady walk was a speed of nearly 13 miles an hour. I could get home, then, in about 3-4 if I took it easy - an hour if I pushed myself even harder than my shore-line run to burst through my injury. Then I would only be 'late' due to oversleeping, or some other such believable lie. Who was I kidding? I never slept in, rising with or before the sun my whole life. Only when I was sick did I ever sleep late. Which then would lead to inquiries as to my health by Aura no doubt. It wasn't her job to pamper or fuss over me like I did her. She had more important things to do. It would be unbecoming of the Matron to dote upon her steward, especially if word of it leaked out. Reputation and all that. I couldn’t let that happen. I had an hour, I could think of an excuse. Yea….. Right….

Just as I was about to call upon the wild in me to heal my wound, locking the unknown foreign annoyance in my hoof until I could convince Sabroth to remove it discretely, the sounds of shouting, weapons, grunts of pain and scent of blood exploded over the camp. Ears immediately up, whites wide as I took a startled step back only to jostle my lead and jolt my mouth bit as I pulled against the chain keeping me to the spike, I whinnied in shock and confusion as to what was going on. From where I was I couldn't see much of the core camp, most of it hidden by trees and shrubs, but I could hear it all. Primal shouts and growls and yelling and banging of metal on metal echoed around. The dirt beneath me trampled as I tugged and tugged at my lead chain. I couldn't stay chained here! I spat blood as I cut up my mouth trying to pull free - not realizing at first that the shouting and bustle of the attack was over as soon as it started. Blood was thick and the moans of wounded tugged at my ears to fight through my panic. A shadow made its way towards me, a large hulking creature with long ears and an even longer sword in its hand. Horse screaming I tried my best to look threatening. Eyes white. Head tethered. Foot lame. Yes. I was ferocious. "Whoa now, whoa. There, there ye-beastie. I mean you no harm." I understood it as goblin that was being spoken to me, a language I'd picked up over the year. Goblin? Talking to a horse? How odd. It caused me to pause my teeth baring and foot pounding - I turned a narrowing suspicious green eye towards him - for it was a deep male voice.

"Good. Good, you're calming. We have you to thank for our victory today." There was something in his voice that was familiar, helping to drive out the instinctual panic that had shocked me from my introspective thoughts. "Been trying to track down these poachers and thieves for a while now horsie. But they kept evading us like the rats they were. Your screamin' an hollering from earlier caught a scout's ear and your blood trail our eyes. They've been stealing from a city my tribe's sworn to help protect, and well, me and my boys here didn't appreciate the nickin' of…. Hold the storm…." His voice trailed off the same time I swiveled my head to the other side to try and glance him in a new light. Horses didn't see straight ahead all that well after all. The voice was familiar too, my wisdom knowing it before the mind did. "Rhia? Blast it girl, is that you? I'd recognize those eyes anywhere." My eyes widened as I realized who it was. In the shadows of the rising sun and the horse-fed panic it had taken me a moment or five longer than it should have. It was Voldemara, Loth-Brock's son. The one and only. Snicker-braying I thudded my head into his chest as far as the led would allow and blew hot bloody horse-air into his face. "Gods damn it, how'd you get yourself into this mess? An' stop that, it smells foul." I didn't care. I did it again. Muttering to himself, my own self feeling elated and relieved at the same time. Voldermara and I had both somehow stumbled on good fortune! I recalled then, during our last briefing of the wilds surrounding Siren's Crest, that he had heard wind of new poachers on the land. A group of bandits - horse thieves, looters, and downtrodden folk who turned to trying to rob the city instead of finding proper jobs. It seems their luck at evading the skilled hobgoblin trackers had run out.

I allowed him to reach up and unhook the halter from the led, gagging once more as he carefully pulled the bit out of my mouth. Immediately I send primal energy into my mouth to swish away the aches. It would have been a pointless task before, the injury coming right back and me wasting my spells. But now? Mouth was good as new, and my dislike for bit and bridle increased.

Butting my head into him again, running my neck over his chest, then pressing my shoulder and then flank into him like a cat would, staying sensitive of my foot, I whinnied again. "If I'd realized it had been you who'd been wrangled down we would have jumped them then 'an there instead of tracking them back to their camp. What's causin' that bleeding we followed? Oh by the Gods…" He trailed off when I showed him my foot. "That ain't right." He began, continuing in goblin to a point I couldn't follow. I never said I was perfectly fluent… "Alright, alright, c'mere towards the fire, mind ya other feet." I huffed at him. Duh. But I followed anyways, much better behaved than the last time I followed. Stepping into the camp proper I saw the remains of the bandit group. Some were dead, Voldermara's men already having lined them up to the side. Others were tied and bound together in chains of their own - most likely to be tried in Siren's Crest soon for their crimes. I made a quick count, seeing everyone… but…. Where was the orc? I didn't have time to warn the hobgoblin of the missing horse thief - his own battle cry from above as he jumped from the high branches, smaller limbs snapping and filling my nose with fresh sap drew both our heads up. An axe was high over his head, might and gravity bringing the blade down right for Voldermara. NO! Foregoing my own safety I slammed my flank into him, forcing him out of the way just in time to feel the blade bite through my back and haunches, plus the 300 pounds of weight I did not miss slam into my shoulders. I missed the 300 pounds even less when I began coughing, wind knocked out of me as 300 pounds of orc pinned my barely 90 pound soaking wet human self to the ground. Fuck.

The orc's roaring battle cry went to confusion, then laughter as the reality of the horse-turned-human girl settling around him. "Well well well, what do we 'ave 'ere." His smell was worse now that I was under him, words impossible with how little air I had in my lungs. It was like being slammed around by Megan's possessed mother all over again. Callused, rough, disgusting fingers wrapped around my throat as I was picked up like a rag doll and pinned again - this time to his front to act a shield. The axe bit into the skin at my neck. The first thought running through my head? Sadie was going to kill me for ruining another set of her expertly made clothes. Really, truly, the seamstress was wasting her time on crafting such garments for me. Ignoring the fact she could make rough spun canvas look like a Matron's ballgown, she would have a much better time making clothes for someone who looked after them better. It wasn't that I didn't appreciate the clothes. But having new uniforms made ate into the Estate budget and… The axe drew blood as I heaved desperately for air. My insides felt broken. No one should have to experience a Thallen equivalent orc landing on them. My warhorse hadn't soaked much of the damage, the glass cannon reverting to human after the first moment. The rising sun painting gold through the forest morning tea officially late now by a good 20 minutes now, based on the size of the shadows growing around us juxtaposed the brutality of the blood and tense hot-headedness of the bandit camp.

My second thought? Or was this now my third? Was it horrid that I was more concerned about tea being late, and that Aura would by now have for sure noticed my tardiness, and that was more important to me than the axe at my neck? No, I don't think it was. Because? Unlike the almost certain irritability of one Miss Gladelight I was sure to face when she undoubtably spotted my weak attempts at an untruth of why I was late and therefore out and about without giving anyone any notice or suggestion as to my location, the real truth of the situation was much more 'here and now'. The orc had confirmed his own death the moment he jumped from the trees. It wasn't something that caused worry or concern. No. A storm didn't apologize for destroying the docks and ships it broke. Winter didn't slow its advance so that you could chop more firewood before you were snowed in. And a bear? Well…. I realized the orc was speaking not because I understood his words, I didn't care to pay attention to that, but because the words turned to screams as the slip of a girl (aka, me) he'd been not-so-subtilty pawing and pinning to his chest with a wandering hand turned into a towering grizzly bear right in front of his eyes.

My cherry-red fur glistened in the rising sun. My claws, always at the ready, looked almost silver thanks to how they gleamed in the light. And my teeth? He got a good final look at them just before I landed my 500 pound barrel stopping thrust on his shoulders and bit down hard one last time. Whereas horse teeth were blunt and bruised? Bear teeth bit clean through his neck and jaw as I sparred not a thought for keeping him alive. Again I rose high on my hind legs, standing a towering seven feet tall. I was a coastal bear, known for my increase in size and weight. And I used that all to my advantage as I flung my weight down again to crush through his chest, breaking his rib cage and mauling through his armor to rip at insides. That was for trying to murder my friend. That was for stealing from my city. That was for making me late for morning tea. It didn't occur to me to take my literal pound of flesh from him due to his treatment of me. Only for what he had done to others.

Roaring at his corpse I turned then to the remaining bandits, wild pouring out of my pores, eyes, and teeth. I stalked to them, lumbering without difficulty… huh… so the hoof invasion didn't negatively affect a new shape shift. Neat. Or? Maybe it did - a sliver of thought questioned my hind foot about how it felt. It did feel like something was there, like a stone in the heel of my boot but lost somewhere in the sole's soft lining. It was still there, in my foot, but the injury itself didn't relate to my bear. A mental hand was raised, a human hand. 'Oh, but your foot's fucked when you transform back, Rhia.' Hmrmph. I suppose it had felt like my whole foot had gone lame, numb, and broken all at the same time when I'd been rag-dolled around. Pair that with how crushed my own insides felt? I did not want to lose grip on my bear self until I was with a proper medic. But, back to scaring the literal piss an' blood out of the remaining bandits. I roared in their faces, all while I busied myself by arguing with myself over the status of my foot and realizing how much trouble I could have saved myself if I'd just tempted a transformation when I'd stepped out of the river. Not like I knew for sure that's how the injury would transfer over. I'd only recently grown as a shapeshifter, while taking back Siren's Crest, and any injury I'd obtained was always swiftly healed by Megan. The closest I felt to how my human self had just felt? When I'd been rag-dolled my Samantha. Or when we'd finished fighting the white dragon and I sat slumped against the ice fissure wall. In my tribe? I only managed small shape-shifts. And I wasn't injured all too often. Really? This had been my first projectile-like injury where I had an external 'thing' stay stuck in me. Lesson learned. It only ruined that shapeshift's form, and concurrently negatively affected my human form. But a new animal form? I was alright.

The last bandit sufficiently terrified to step out of line - a blood-stained coastal grizzly bear would do that to you - I hunkered down and sat for the first time in hours. I was exhausted now. Running, swimming, broken with bit and halter, carrying 300 pounds of orc, irritated mouth, axe-to-ass, and rag-dolled? Fuck. I didn't even drink alcohol, but it sounded delightful. Anything to wash away the soreness I could feel just waiting for me when I dropped my bear form. Tea would be delightful too. If I had some. "Well Rhia, you sure know how to retaliate, that's for sure." Voldermara said while picking himself up off the ground where I'd shoved him aside, brushing forest debris off his armor. All that had happened in moments. "I appreciate the assist." It looked like he wanted to pat my head, but was too conflicted to do so. Bbbbeeeeaaaarrrrrr I keened back, nuzzling my muzzle up into his hand as if a handshake. You're welcome. I swung my head to look over pointedly at the other bandits before looking back at the hobgoblin, bbeeeeeeaaaaaarrrrrrr I rough-and-grumbled to him. Voldemara, not speaking an ounce of bear, nodded sagely. "Ye're damn right. They shouldn't be givin' us any trouble on the hike back to Siren's Crest. Want to join us on the travel back? We could use a guard like yourself."

Bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrr I was going to be so late for evening tea. Perhaps even tomorrow morning's tea. Oh bother.

But I couldn't just leave them. They were piss-afraid to step out of line because of me. If I left? Who knows what sort of trouble they'd try to cause for Voldermara. I didn't want to be the one to tell Loth-Brock that his son had died from bandits of all things because I'd been too bothered with other things to aid them. Besides, it would reflect poorly on the Estate if I didn't help bring the bandits in. There would be a trial and…. Oh no… Paperwork. And with an employee of the Gladelight family in the thick of the reports?

Nnnoooooororoooroooroo. I'd just wanted to go out running for a bit, get myself tired before returning after a few hours and cat-napping by the fire until tea-time. Not cause more work for Aura. Whelp, the milk was already spilt. At least it was early morning and we'd cover quite a bit of ground with a whole day's travel. But traveling with the stolen loot, captives who'd no doubt drag their feet, and a dozen or so hobgoblins? It was at least a two day journey home. My shoulders slumped, but I grinned and beared it, rising up to my feet to shake out my fur. As long as I stayed a bear? I could postpone the injury to my foot. It would be a good lesson in itself, to see if the wound festered over the next two days or if it stayed in stasis tucked away in my horse form. I didn't know these things. I'd never spoken with another druid before.

"Right. Let's go lads! We've a camp to tear down and captives to get to the gallows." Volodemara said that in Common this time, purposefully sending more fear into the once-bandits. Good, I snorted in their general direction. I hoped they were scared. Stealing from our city. Hrumph. The scouting and hunting party made quick work of the camp, tearing down the tents, packing it up in tight rolls and linking them all together. The crates were re-packaged together and their contents returned inside. I saw items that the fisheries traded, hooks, bobbers, and flies. I saw cutlery the butcher often used as well as one crate of fine fabrics. It was a good thing bears couldn't show embarrassment through blushing. There was a full bolt of navy blue fabric that was very familiar looking. It was a nervous looking, smaller hobgoblin, that approached me after about an hour and packing was all said and done.

"Ummm Miss… uhh… Rhia? Miss Rhia?" It often stumbled the tongues of people who were accustomed to showing respect by addressing others by their last name. I had none. I was just… Rhia. "Voldemara didn't want you to be bothered and asked, but it would end up helping us in the long run, and shortening our trip, if we could fasten you to a cart? Otherwise it's down to groups of 3 of us pulling the loot an'…" I cut him off with an eager Beeeaarrrrr! If it sped our travel up? You're damn right I wanted to be attached to that cart. I could pull 600-700 pounds of material before becoming tired. Lumbering to the space indicated by the scout I saw Voldermara pinch his nose. I chuffed at him good naturedly, hoping he understood. Truly, I didn't mind.

There, packaged nicely, were several crates, rolls of tent material, tools, and a few sacks of perishable goods. A sling long and wide enough for me to step into and have the ties fastened around me made of tripled-up tent canvas and leather was waiting for. Stepping into the device I was secured and gave the rigging a tentative step. It took a moment, but once I had the sling settle around my shoulders nicely? I could pull the cart without issue. Beeaarrrr. I stated quickly. Let's go! Each of the four bandits still alive (two had killed themselves during the hour packing. I hadn't felt like trying to stop them) were tied to the belts of four of the larger hobgoblins and we were off.

I was already calculating my speed, roughly cut down by a third due to the weight I was bearing…. Essentially removing the benefit I got from my bracers. But? I still had the speed of a bear to begin with - creatures used to roaming and foraging all night. At a modest estimate? I was looking at a pace of around 4.5 miles an hour. Soooo 11-12 hours until we were home. But that was if it was… just… me. With the others walking alongside me? And the captives? Double the time. 24 hours. A whole day. And I knew I wouldn't be able to convince everyone to keep a force march and go non-stop for an entire sun cycle. Two and a half days. We'd get home in the middle of the third day. And I was stuck as a bear the whole time, not wanting to risk shifting to human without a cleric or other healer nearby. I felt my excited pace slow, 'what ifs' circling in my head. What if Aura didn't real care that I was gone that long? What if she just assumed I'd needed a leave of unreported absence and. .just.. Ended up not caring? It'd been one thing to find out upon our return to the Chimera Courts that we'd been gone a year. If I had known beforehand? I would have pleaded with Black Agatha, begging a favor owed if she could arrange it so that year gap had never happened. Who would make her tea? How would Aura get through without proper tea? Yes she'd managed a year… but honestly I didn't want her to have to suffer through that experience again. Who'd wake her up? Who'd manage the Estate? Would she be seen as non-essential if the household ran fine without her? Or would it show how valuable an asset I was that everything could run smoothly without daily interference, due to proper hires, well managed resources, and responsible employees?

Round and round my thoughts went, rising the spiraling downward, so much so, that I didn't notice the passing of the day. I just trudged one step in front of the other and ignored the constant irritation that was growing in my hind foot. I kept my head down, my pace steady, and followed the primary road up to Siren's Crest main gate. It wasn't until the shadows were long and I startled to a stop from someone blocking my path that I reared lightly onto my hind legs and back-stepped once. It was Voldemara. "Whoa there Rhia. We're stopping for the night. Come on, we'll set up tents off the path a bit then start up again after morning light. Because of you? We made a great pace. Should only be another day plus some at this rate." Yeah. Another day or so. Great. My mood was sour, I was sure the others could sense it. The hobgoblin prince tried to keep up conversation, but it was rather one sided. The benefit of long-term animal shape - I didn't have to talk to anyone if I didn't want to. Horses were best for it, temperamental beasts with a great range of sounds. Bears were good though for when you only wanted to waste your time stating you weren't in a mood to talk. Once. I volunteered to keep watch throughout the night. Determined to not let my mind wander as it had during the day I kept up a steady patrol around camp. At one point the numbers dropped from four to three. One captive had attempted to escape. The other three now knew better.

In the morning light, now not having slept for a second night, I was an irritable bear. It was like the Underdark all over again. Except on the Surface. I swore if I saw a cow… well… the hobgoblins would then eat good tonight. I stepped into my harness, dried blood caked in my claws, collected on my muzzle, splashed across my chest. Even in the light it was hard to tell, the red of my fur masking it. But I could feel it. Feel he grime of travel, of death, of trudging along. It started to rain early afternoon of the second day. We'd been traveling for no more than two or three hours when I sensed the winds changing. Halting the cart I stopped and lifted my head high. Deep snuffs of air through my nose and panted out through my mouth. Who in the party had cursed us with rain? I swung my head around to stare at everyone there, but it was clear none of them knew my thoughts. Well, it'd be impossible anyways. My ring of Mind Shielding, the only thing I ever really purchased for myself that wasn't a core need. I had bought it when I found out Aura was an aasimar. A dangerous tid-bit of knowledge that if the wrong people knew? It would not bode well for her. My fears on that topic had come to surface the day we found the Titan. When the Bartender had said to bring their talented friend? I'd known right then and there her aasimar blood was being targeted. So I'd conveniently forgotten to remind Darious or Megan of the instruction, riding in the claws of Vodfiikrah all the way to the portal opening - - - only to have to swing back and take Aura with us.

I hadn't wanted to. Not that I didn't think she could protect herself. She could. Just… I'd already nearly lost her once. I couldn't risk anything again to have it happen a second time. Or for her to permanently then be … just… gone. I'd been prepared to forgo living in the human plane had Aura died in the Feywilds. It was a comfort there, the primal wild magic all around. A heated blanket after so many nights in the Underdark. I would have been content, I think, to make my home there. After I'd helped Megan and Darious of course. I wouldn't have abandoned them. But if Aura had passed that night light she almost had? I understood Darious' rushing to his death when it seemed he had lost everything. I understood Megan's quick retreat to the North with her smattering of followers. Would Aura have understood my decision to drift in the Feywilds? I'd nearly died of shock when the devil-titan taint had targeted Aura. It drove me wild, losing grip on my humanity while at the same time numbing my head so I couldn't move at all. Slamming down as hard as I could, earthen paws breaking the magic circle as the great rock bear I had been. I had no idea what would happen if I broke the ground, and therefore disrupted the sigil. I didn't understand magic - not the arcane, nor occult, or divine. I only saw that as the wall between Aura getting out safely and her dying. Again. I hadn't been able to stay her guard dog the whole battle, having needed to rely on her wall of force she'd set up for herself. It terrified me, this unknown piece of invisible whatever being the only thing between her and certain death.

And when it ultimately had possessed her? Due to my actions of breaking the circle? I'd stood there, frozen, unable to do anything. I don't think I really remember what happened next. I remember Aura's body jumping through the portal. Being sent back to the coast of Siren's Crest. A blinding light. Her lying on the ground, broken, by something rejecting itself from her body to leave her raw and injured on the sands. I've had nightmares ever since then. Since that day. It made sleeping more than a few hours difficult. It's what spurred my insomnia. Kept me running nearly every night.

The sky opened up and dumped on us. It didn't help in making me feel clean at all. If anything? I just got soaked in mud, the dirt caking like a paste to my legs and stomach and chest. I could tell, a good number of the hobgoblins had left our caravan by that point. Only the three who kept personal guard of a captive bandit, Voldemara, and one other stayed. That was over half of the scouts and rangers leaving to continue tasks elsewhere. It seemed revenge and justice weren't worth sticking it out in the rain. The rest of them only lasted about a half hour trudging through the muddied road and utter downpour of sheets and buckets and ocean-waves of water that came down without pause. I could tell when seven new lumps of weight went onto the cart. It slowed my pace even further, the heavier weight sinking deeper into the mud. Only Voldemara walked up ahead, rested his hand on my shoulder a moment, then trudged the mud with me. We only made it a few miles that day. And that was being generous. We'd lost any extra ground I'd given us the first day - in fact? I was sure now we'd lost ground. A tent had been pitched over the wagon in an attempt to give a non-rainy space to everyone who wanted to sleep. Or, at least, shut their eyes. By this point? No one was keen on going anywhere but the jerry-rigged tent. I volunteered yet again to keep watch. Nothing would bother us this storm, so it wasn't a worry of being attacked that kept me awake and diligent. No, it was the slow-creeping fear of slipping out of my bear form if I fell asleep.

There'd be no way I made it home if I changed to human now. My injury to my foot too severe to survive the current weather. I played with the idea, while everyone else dozed, sitting in the mud and just letting the rain pour down over and around me, of shifting directly from bear to something else. I'd never shifted from animal to animal before. I'd always stepped back into my born-in self before stepping into a new shape. But too much was against me. First, obviously, was the chance that as I went to shift? My body would on its own, subconsciously, switch to human first. Plus was the fact I hadn't been able to gain a full even hour's rest since this all began. It still felt like I had no wild energy within to manage anything but a change back into human. My fur was drenched, mud now caking into all the fur on my hind legs, haunches, and butt as I sat dejected in the mud, rain still coming down like dragon breath. Sighing heavily, the sound lost in the rain, I resigned myself to staying awake and making the trip the rest of the way still as a bear. Besides, the sling fit my bear form, none others. It would take even longer to re-size the device to fit me if the party woke up and saw me as something else. Plus? The bandits feared me as a bear. I couldn't gain that dominance again as something else. My foot was starting to ache more in the cold. The heel of my paw pad feeling like there was a blister growing from within. Lesson 201. Shapeshifting with a wound that had something inside of it did feel like nothing if you shapeshifted into something else. BUT it would still be there, becoming more and more irritated, the longer it stayed wrapped up inside. It probably wouldn't have been so bad if it hadn't been in my foot.

I was starting to become worried for myself - a rarely had thought. I was so used to being knocked around and standing back up, relying on the infinite health of my animal shapes that normal wounds or danger just never seemed to apply to me. But this? If this wasn't looked at soon… I might lose the feeling in my foot for good.

What kind of steward would I be if I had a lame, or…. A thought gaslighted through my head as lightening crashed. Or if it had to be removed? It was a long night waiting for dawn as the rain continued: cold and heavy. Dawn came, and with it, a slowing of the rain. It hadn't stopped completely, that would have been too much of a godsend. But I could at least see more than a few feet in front of me. The seven still rode in the cart, some bandits and hobgoblins they turned out to be. I supposed the bandits were used to taking the 'easy' route and stealing for a living, so, them being lazy at least made sense. The hobgoblins though? I chalked it up to a year of relative peace the land around Siren's Crest had due to the relief of the flesh warped Vikings being gone. That, and, most people hitched a ride when they could. I walked the grass next to the road during the third day, not much on my mind except the sole focus of getting home. I started to day dream about a bath. Perfumed water, scented soaps, candles. A soft ooohh an ever-so-soft flannel to soap myself with. The water would be hot, too. Easing the aches of the freezing rain that had settled into the marrow of my bones. I'd be able to wash my hair. Trim and file my nails to keep them from cracking and tearing further then they probably already had. Maybe flowers would float in the water. Maybe I'd have tea on a low-stool next to me. Maybe biscuits. Or scones. Maybe Aura would be there.

It was my day dreaming that carried me through the hardest load-bearing slog of my life. My muscles shook if I stopped for too long to catch a quick rest. My nose was stuffed up and I was sure I would be mistaken for a naturally brown cave bear now instead of a strange cherry-red colored bear. I hadn't bothered to perk my ears up since last evening. My once sharp claws were sheathed in mud-cement, making me feel like all my toes had to crack without any relief. My neck and shoulders had started to become rubbed raw from the harness. Really, by this point the reclaimed 'treasures' of stolen merchandise was beyond ruined. The fine rich navy fabric no doubt ordered by Sadie would be of no use. O'vak's knives had probably started to rust. Who needed fishing supplies in a coastal town anyways? I was becoming bitter, pessimistic, and potentially irritable. I hadn't slept in three nights, and the sleep I had gotten before running the coast had been a cat nap. The only reason I did not fall asleep was due to the constant throb in my foot. The chaffing of the harness. The single-minded goal of just one more step. How many miles had we traveled now? 15 or 20 the first day? A generous 5 the next? Today seemed a waste as the rain continued to lighten, stopping finally by the time the sun was setting, therefore keeping the ground soft and muddy. At most I guessed I'd pulled us 3 or 4 miles. What an embarrassment.

A mighty bear like me? Moving at these speeds? No.

I growled at anyone who got off of the cart as the sun set fully, moon rising on the horizon to take its place. I channeled the wild I still had access to into my limbs and my shoulders and my neck and paws and pulled. I would not stop to rest this night. The colder night helped to firm up the ground where I pulled us along, slowly yet steadily gain back the speed I had lost the last two days. It had been four days now and we only just passed a landmark I recognized I knew marked the gates at about 15 miles away. Black Agatha's lighthouse. I knew exactly where we were, and how long it would take to get to the front gates. No one was getting off this gods-damned cart for a night's rest until we were safe inside the walls of Siren's Crest. I was going to be home for morning damn tea by dawn. This fourth night was spent growling and huffing under my breath. A fourth night of no sleep. A fourth night a bear. A fourth night with a dying foot. But I pushed primal wild energy into my feet to harden then. Into my shoulders to keep the burden of the cart. Into my heart so I wouldn't give up.

Seeing the dawn rise across the ocean with Siren's Crest guard towers gleaming in morning dew, was perhaps the most beautiful sight I could ever imagine. I slowed my thundering rocking pace, the gates were within sight a mile away. I could take a moment to appreciate the sun. Drawing on the Moon's power during the night I honored my Circle at all hours that evening. But now? Now it was time to give the Sun her due. I kept a slower pace now, thanking the ground below me for giving me its strength and power. I thanked the winds for keeping my face cool. I thanked the twilight for ferrying me home, and I thanked the sun now for its burst of warmth to make the final stretch home. Other carts joined up on the road now, and it was now the realization of how I, the cart, and the passengers inside must have looked. I could hear the whispers on the morning wind about where we'd come from, what we could possibly have that is so important we looked like we'd traveled in the near monsoon of a rainstorm the area had suffered from the last few days. And… how had hobgoblins trained a bear?! With each step closer to passing in through the gates to the city's guarded checkpoint - a checkpoint all carts and wagons had to go through - I could feel my final strength leaving me. Like the moon? I, too, waxed and waned. I grew strong in like the tides before receding and gathering my strength. I wanted to hibernate now. Looks like my run had finally made me tired… Vodemara could deal with the bandits and the stolen loot from this point onward. I'd gotten them here, like a good guard bear, and now I'd earned my rest.

Slicing out of my harness, teeth snapping the leather I let the cart pitch forward and clang to the stones below. Jostled rude awakenings roused from within the mobile tented cart but I didn't care. OoooooOOOOOOoooooohhhhh it felt so good to be out of that blasted leather and canvas. I was sure my fur was rubbed down to the skin in the pattern of the ties. They felt inflamed enough. I stretched, like a lion, and let out a mighty roar-yawn like a tiger, and shook my fur out, like the bear I was. Sabroth, I had to find the Stablemaster. He'd know what to do about my hoof. It was numbed something dreadful now at this point. Maye he had a gel for my rash? Or maybe? Maybe I could just lay down right here and hibernate. There'd be no way I slipped out of my shapeshift now - hibernation sounded much too good than anything a human could do. A familiar sounding shout, my name carrying over the morning dun of the city waking up, perked my ears up for the first time in days. Aura? I could stay up a bit longer I supposed. There was… after all… tea to be made. Something was worth doing as human after all.