Shamblers in the Woods

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=<* W03: The Deep Woods *>-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

          The woods here are thick, with the trees' branches virtually blocking 
out the light of the sun shining above. A barely managed trail is available to 
pick one's way through the undergrowth, but it's easy to find oneself stepping 
into a bramble patch nonetheless.

          Further along the track, a wooden lodge house stands in the shadows 
of the trees around it. Closer inspection reveals the symbols of Gilead and 
Dana carved above the door.

          Further still, the trail becomes virtually choked close, leading into 
and through a massive hedge.

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 Svarshan        Be a brightscale! Chomp a demon!                      0s   20h
 Leisel          Slender female in gray robes.                         4s   19m
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Druid Grove <DG>          West <W>                  
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It's Ceriday, Rhaltaas 13 21:06:45 1014. The full moon isn't up. The tide is low and rising.

The deep blue night sky is clear and cloudless, and the stars glitter. An icy wind blows from the northwest.

Leisel kneels near some largish bush, with an oversized cloak upon her. The cold wind blowing is causing a definately sniffling from the druid, but she continues to minister to this bush. Strange thing is, as she is talking in a low voice, the bush moves a bit of its own volition, occasionally wrapping tis tendrils about her hands. "You'll be fine.. and Bailey swears by this stuff. He said it was his best.." she continues to smooth something onto the plant. Not far away another bush moves towards the small woman, then it would be clear these are not bushes.. bushes don't move, and it is dark...

"Hisssst..." Svarshan urges Srassha forward with a tug of the mecate. The large predator minces along the underbrush, her nostrils wide, her eyes looking here or there. He carries a bundle of skins, freshly cut, over a shoulder. The two of them are headed down the road from the southeast.

The shamblers move off at a brisk pace as new people come along, with Leisel calling after them. "Where are you going?" Not having heard the pair at first, but finally turning around she spots them. Looking back the way the shamblers have gone, she yells after them again. "They won't eat you... you smell too badly..." She stands up and lifts a small bucket with her. She moves to intercept the pair. "Hello beautiful Lady..." looking up at Svarshan, "And hello Svarshan. What brings you to the woods?" she glances at the skins just as she is asking, as if.. she can't see for herself.

Srassha tosses her head once. She jerks on the reign just as Svarshan reaches up a hand. "...the others... hunting," he says to Leisel. Meaning that Srassha's brood are out and about, and she is...stuck. There. He starts to scratch the reptile's jaw, a quiet but contented smile on his features. "Sa. One was...trading. Ancestor's Wings, Leisel-of-the-Trees."

Leisel tilts her head as she listens to her friend. She moves forward and pats Srassha's beautiful head, "Sorry.. I hope I don't stink too much...actually, you might recognize some of this.." she takes the bucket and puts it at her feet. "You have helped so much.. and you don't even know how." She looks up at Svarshan, "Its good for wounds on the shamblers, once mixed with the right herbs and... some blood." she tries to lighten this last word. She looks puzzled, "Ancestor's Wings?"

Srassha tosses her head again before settling it into the Tree-Speaker's palms. Her eyes are still wide--I want to hunt, that says. Yet, she's wearing her bosal, her mecate and saddle. These things would get in the way, and she has other chores to do. Beside her, Svarshan looks like he's...he slides a slow, wary look towards the bucket and says nothing for a time. And opens his mouth. And slowly closes it. "I...ssseee..." he says slowly, and looks just this side of laughter. "I...ssshamblers. One wondered." He pauses again, and looks to her. "It--my ancestors flew," he says then.

Leisel rubs the eyeridges and gives good scratches, under the bosal where it might rub and be itchy, her motions totally devoted and yet casual as well. Her face reflects the understanding, and her eyes are bright. "Indeed they did. I should have gotten that.." she looks back the way the shamblers went. "They fear coming to close to the road. Many people don't differentiate a hungry shambler and one that has been well fed. We don't let them go hungry near the grove. All are part of the bounty of The Word. Even us.. one day we will feed the soil." She looks at the skins, "Has hunting been good?"

He follows the look with a sort of warm pride. He's not as good at it as most of his kin, though there's a /rightness/ to it. To the hunt, to the chase. To spreading one's wings until they blotted out the sky. "...Ssa. Many. They are fattening for Cold. Skins--" and he drops his shoulder to bring the skins around that Leisel might see them. The skins are of various creatures--most, medium-sized game, common creatures but thick furs, thick hides. Chosen for warmth, most likely; not all are the most beautiful of species. "We--the woods. Up north," he says, the words taxing his throat, but he nods that way, to add to it. And, "The ssshamblings. Been good?" A lightness comes with it, a tightening at the edges of the eye: a joke, then. Playing on words.

Leisel looks over the skins that are produced for inspection, her hands not stopping their caresses of the beautiful Srassha. She gives a nod at the comment of fattening for the cold, "Yes.. and I will mention if you have left the entrails there, the shamblings would most welcome an easy meal." she grins. "Many a bear or wolf would as well. But I must admitt I am biased. And yes, they are good. No travelers have been... bothered." She slips one of her hands to feel the pelts, her look seems resigned. "To feed or keep warm one of your own.." surely she is not meaning this towards Svarshan. "you look after all of them, greatful we are of your generosity." The trees about the area seem to sway a bit more in the winds that push through the area. Up close her nose is a bit red from the cold, though the druidess seems to hardly notice it.

Svarshan studies her a while, and lets go a breath as he reshoulders the pelts. "Ssssa. One is...grateful. More. Tack. For Srassha, warmth..." he means. The hides will be put to use, and he gestures with his muzzle towards the tack she wears. Rawhide, and woven, though not by an expert. Far from it. He's been learning, though. Practicing. He has a small herd to care for, now and over the past five, six years they've gotten larger, not smaller. More stubborn. "Isss Warden Grunthid coming. Back?" One of the hunters, trappers from the area he'd been learning from.

Leisel blinks for a moment, "Oh... " her cheeks now also redden. "I mean.. I was talking to.. the Earth Mother. Though you have the herd, she has generously thought to provide for them." She smiles a bit, thinking how often she has to explain her strange behavior.. then she looks up. "Warden Grunthid?" She considers this, then looks towards the trees as they rustle a bit, or is that the wind still? "They say he is off a ways. He uses the friends well. They do not fear him.. which is good." She smiles.

Translations. Words. He eyes her as though facing a puzzle, a foreign thing to him that though it speaks and forms the same words, it does not share the same /language/. ...and he lets go a breath. And finds a smile, because that is the sort of thing one wears. "Sa. We--" he gestures towards the Grove, briefly, with his muzzle. "He hasss been teaching. One is grateful? I look forward to him returning." Pause, rub at the jaw. "Will he...winter." Will he be back before winter, he means.

Leisel has disconnected.