"A Thicket of Honor" Log Date: 6/25/01 Log Cast: Wind Runner, Faanshi, WolfEyes, Quiet-Eyes, MistedWing, SilentDawn Log Intro: It has taken the discovery that the man she loved has been committing acts of murder, his subsequent execution, an unexpected encounter with no less than Khalid Atar Himself in His holy temple... but Faanshi has set out to face her first true challenge as the Voice to the Sylvans. Thalia has informed her that Salmalin al'Sar is held by the Apisachi... and she must go to that furtive, wary tribe and find a way to release him. The young healer is daunted indeed, for she is hardly healed from the shock of her beloved's death; however, she has discovered to her joy that Salmalin is alive and unharmed among the Children of Earth. That, at least, is a comfort... though persuading them to permit him to leave safely with her is a task she has yet to fulfill, and she must somehow find the proper words to keep both herself and Salmalin safe against the quickly sparked wrath of the Apisachi. Some of whom would just as soon see her dead as in their midst. It is a troublesome thicket indeed through which Faanshi must find her way.... *===========================< In Character Time >==========================* Time of day: Morning Date on Aether: Sunday, July 5, 3908. Year on Earth: 1508 A.D. Phase of the Moon: Last Quarter Season: Summer Weather: Pouring Rain Temperature: Comfortable *==========================================================================* Waterfall - Northern Forest(#1732RAh) A large foothill, rests here covered by the surrounding forest. Runoff from in the mountains trickles down a mountain stream and cascades off a small forty foot cliff. The waterfall ends in a serene pool, some twenty feet across. The waters of the pool appear cool, but almost see through they are so clean. From there the water drains out another stream and to the east. On the east side of the waterfall is an opening to a cave. To get past the streams and to the opening there is an ancient natural stone bridge leading across the stream straight to the ledge in front of the cave. Contents: Wind Runner Obvious exits: Hollow Tree West Cave Cave Southwest Morning. It was the worst of times. Everything chirping and smiling and happy.. All but one, that is. An angry snarl positively reverberates from one of the nearby caverns, sending a few feathered friends into fleeing flight. Belched from the dark recesses of camp is the owner of the expressed ire, a rather long, bloody staff accompanying her trip towards the breakfast fire. For now those copper ires bother not with the scenery. Food. Food is a necessity at this point. The latest intruder brought into the camp of the Apisachi is curled up in a rather damp bedroll beneath a tree -- and beside her is the protective figure of her big dog, who is the first to see the newcomer on her way into view. Kosha yurfs, lifting his head and peering around his surroundings; beside him, Faanshi comes awake with a violent start. Her dreams have been dark ones, and for a moment or two summer-green eyes remain focused on something other than the forest clearing around her. The shudra's veil is askew; so is her leyang. Only after a few moments does she blink her way into full consciousness and realize that she should straighten her garb... and only then does it sink in. She is in the territory of the Apisachi. She has seen Salmalin. He is alive and apparently unharmed... But not here. She looks about uncertainly, trying to get her bearings, and see who _is_ here. Wind Runner Sleek raven hair cascades forth in luxurious waves to sweep past the edges of this woman's stark, striking features and collect in a shadowed puddle at the small of her lean backside. Slyly lashed in ebony, her felinoid gaze of copper is a bit tainted, tinged with flecks of vibrant jade. A strong will lurks beyond, barely suppressing whatever raging passions broil just beneath. Intensity eminates from this woman, though surprisingly others are often subjected to the disturbing sort of silence she maintains with those lush lips. The earthen tones of cured leather bind tightly to this woman's breasts, strapping to her upper forearms and gripping down her tiny waist. From there ride rather loose breeches, three simple ties securing them at her slender hips. The loose leggings allow quite a bit of freedom for her long legs, draping slightly over small, grubby toes. Though the garb reveals quite a tantalizing view of gold, silken skin and smoothed muscle, it is nonetheless simplistic, following a form of necessity rather than elegance. With the Goddess-given five feet and eleven inches of height, this Sylvan woman usually remains with one hand upon a towering staff of diamond willow. Her step forever remains as that of pure silence, delicate and sure, even as she maintains a crystalline awareness of her surroundings. Equally quiet is her strength, that which envelops every fiber of her being. (OOC: '+view Wind Runner/tattoos' and '/serpent' for detailed information.) Faanshi At first glance, some things about this young woman are easy to discern. The garments she wears are those oft seen on Varati females, yet, she stands at only 5'9", small for a woman of that race, and her build is delicate for a Daughter of Fire as well. Shy or perhaps trained to submissive silence she must be, for she rarely raises her eyes to anyone unless specifically bidden, and she speaks almost always in a demure, deferential tone, regardless of whom she addresses. What portions of her skin are visible are a warm shade of gold; the few strands of her short hair, coal-black. Neither of these are terribly odd for Varati, yet no Varati would have her eyes, huge and liquid, set at a slight slant in her face... and the rich brilliant green of summer leaves. She is simply clad, her garments of humble make but excellent repair, the clothes of one whose household garbs even its servants well. A leyang of subtly patterned shades of red swaths her form over a gold-hued choli and scarlet silwar; her veil is blue silk, light and gauzy, just enough to give a hint of the shape of her chin and her mouth beneath it. On her feet are a pair of simple leather zoris, whose long straps are looped up her calves and tied behind them. Three meatsticks are systematically consumed - no, not the sticks themselves but rather the sumptuous fare that adorns the shaped lengths - without so much as a moment of enjoyment. But not much could probably please -this- Sylvan presently. Breakfast finished, firelit eyes swivel to find the newest prisoner, fatalistic fury half-crazed within. Bare feet move without sound, familiarity with the forest ground quite obvious as she is brought forth. Ten feet from the woman and there she stops, glowering at the halfbreed stonewalker in absolute silence. Oh dear. Kosha in his canine innocence appears to have decided that there is a difference between a blazingly surly mood and actual physical threat, and so for the time being he merely stares in doggish affability up at the tall Sylvan, his tongue lolling. Faanshi, on the other hand, immediately reads the bigger woman's mood... and rises gingerly out of her bedroll, uncertainty crinkling her sungolden brow. She has set her veil to rights, but her red leyang has slipped off the top of her head, revealing the short coal-black hair beneath it, and a glimpse of the chain that slides back around past mutilated ears to keep the veil where it belongs. Should she speak? Were she in Atesh-Gah, it would be her place to wait until she is addressed before she utters a word. But this is not Atesh-Gah -- and this is not a Varati before her. Thus, shyly, earnestly, she inclines her head and gives a little bow over the hands she clasps palm to palm at her breast. But the greeting she offers forth is "Chookma..." Silence stretches forth, an uncomfortable thing that makes the early risers of Apisachi camp step a bit farther away, pointedly looking.. elsewhere. Stone has shaped this woman's face: smooth and cold and without emotion, but for her blazing eyes. "Why Salmalin search for?!" erupts she, volcanic heat gusting forth in accusation. Her staff extends to poke at the intruder's foot rudely. "Danger, you are! Kill you, should! Style of Empyreans!" That way, no Sylvan would be blamed and the heat would be taken into a different corner. Oh yes, that would be most convenient. Oh dear, indeed. _Now_ Kosha grows uneasy, a little rumbling yurf in his throat, while Faanshi swallows behind her veil at the explosive demand hurled at her. It is hard, very hard, to keep herself from flinching or from dropping immediately into a kneeling stance before this angry woman -- for among the Varati, anyone who would have authority to snarl at her in such a fashion must needs be someone before whom she must kneel. Though she manages to keep her feet, still there is palpable consternation in the girl's face, veil or no veil. The gauzy blue silk does little to hide the strained set of her dainty features. So too is there consternation in her soft voice, as she seeks as even a tone as possible in her reply: "My mistress, the Queen-Maharani Thalia Tritonides Khalida, bids me seek and bring home the Imphadi Salmalin al'Sar, who is the Varati Voice to the Sylvans and with whom I am commanded to be bridge between the Varati and the Sylvan peoples. Of the threat of death, she says nothing, though it causes another visible flash of dismay across her eyes. The bushes nearby and downwind shiver, slightly. To those who know them, that means someone has entered the small thicket on the other side. A large harumph at that, the stranger's words kindling to the warrior's growing flames. "Traitors, Varati. Allow peoples come to land. Break agreements. Defile Goddess. Punish not, do you! Continue to allow agreement breech! Dishonourable!" Her words are thick and forced: thick for the accent not known to any part near or of Haven and forced for the lack of disuse and the interference of strong emotion. The staff is taken away and summilarily swiped through the mud. Best to clean the filth off so that the taint does not infect her staff and thus her. "Trouble, you are," is her growl once more. "One Sylvan dead from you interfere? You see new pain." The promise is.. not and idle one. Agreement? What agreement? Faanshi feels another stirring of dismay as she tries to fathom the Sylvan woman's halting speech; soft dark brows knit together above her liquid eyes, and only when the dog stirs restlessly at her side does she take her attention off Wind Runner. And even then, only long enough to murmur to the hound, "Be at peace, Kosha, be at peace..." Then, looking up again, she gravely replies, "If you wished to kill me, Imphada, I could not stop you. I am a healer and not a warrior. Kosha would defend me, but I know the warriors of your tribe would punish him if he did so -- and I do not want to see him hurt." A pause, as she considers, and then she adds, "My mistress has not told me of any agreement between your people and the Varati... what agreement do you mean?" The slight shivering of leaves continues, announcing someone making their way through the bush towards Wind Runner and Faanshi. Even the best at getting through the forest unseen cannot make it through this particular bush without being noticed - which is the main reason it is here. Either the sound is ignored or not noticed - the approaching Sachem can decide. Wind Runner continues to glare at the stonewalker, perhaps just a 'tad' more fiercely than before. "No Varati remember! Years past, cure given. Deal get land heal Sylvans! Deal keep Varati off soil! Short time! Already forget!" The stone crumbles to reveal the bowels of mongrel's legendary hells as her snarl moves to encompass rather sharp, pointed teeth. Feline teeth. "Varati break agreement and -STILL- claim Sylvan at fault! Still bother Goddess!" Rage quite literally imobilizes the warrior woman from actually doing harm to the prisoner. Likely best if she does not cool off, just yet. Ushas; why hasn't she been _told_ this? Faanshi squeezes her eyes closed for a moment, trying to wrestle down the urge to think ill of her own mistress. It would, a small voice within her complains, have been nice to be _told_ of things like this, when commanded to take on a task like being an ambassador. On the other hand, another small voice points out, perhaps your mistress expected you to find this out on your own, shudra? Feeling woefully inadequate -- what business does she, a servant girl, have trying to be a diplomat? -- the maiden hauls in a breath behind her veil and struggles to find something appropriate to say. What she finally comes up with is, "I apologize for my presence... but the Queen-Maharani is greatly concerned for the Imphadi Salmalin al'Sar and wished me to fetch him home. If I have violated a pact between the Varati and the Sylvans it was done by no error but mine and I will accept any punishment your Sachem wishes to give me, save that of death, which is the right of my mistress and the Most High Himself, who are as Sachems to me." WolfEyes says "Speaker-to-Sylvans is safe with us, as you have now seen." She steps out between the branches of the thicket, amber eyes regarding Faanshi with cool dispassion. "And if you rate your God and his wife as only Sachems, mortals, leaders-of-tribes - you may wish to rephrase that. I do not ask tribesmen to fall down at my image and pray to me, and nor would I want them to." Faint rebuke leaves her voice, returning to coolness. "Speaker-to-Sylvans will not be leaving yet, Second-Speaker. To Speak between peoples, he must understand both. And it does the Tribe no harm to see that not all Varati are the murdering, torturing, burning and raping scum that we see most of the time. His presence is as important for our own people as for yours."" Silence. And then? A nod. Aye, WolfEyes speaks truth - something Varati are typically incapable of, in her not-so-humble opinion. Stepping back anger dissipates into stone once more, composure regained with winter's ice infused within. Her babied wood is embedded softly within the earth, jutting like a judgement rod. At last, controlled speech flows freely. "Brings wrath and dishonor to tribe yet, WolfEyes. If return her, wrath for other Varati us keeping, we gain. If not return her, wrath for disappearance. With her brings dishonor to tribe way either." Either way, same thing. "Varati keep promise not. Ruler theirs seeks invisible control and..and.." that damn word. Oh yes. "Ma-ni-pu-la-tion. Seeks make tool of Apisachi." Another momentary pause, before she offers, "Kill like Empyrean kill. Post in Haven. Blame others and distraction bring Khalid Attention away." The teeth of the first woman do not go unnoticed by Faanshi -- though this girl has seen graisha before. That one stands before her now causes her no especial alarm. But it does bring up an odd fleeting darkness behind her eyes, one which does not get words to give it voice... and at any rate, the shudra girl is distracted by the arrival of WolfEyes. There comes now a flash of recognition at the sight of this newcomer... but that too goes unvoiced as she gravely replies, "The words I have said... I mean in the way that as a Sachem is leader of the Sylvans... the giver of laws... so are the Hawk of Heaven and His most honored consort the givers of laws whom I must follow. Even aside from the Most High being to me as the Earth Mother is to you." There is nervousness there, though somehow Faanshi manages not to stammer. Some clear, crystalline part of her mind, a spot within her that has felt scoured and then tempered in fire ever since she left the Ettowealona -- and saw Khalid Himself in His Temple -- gives her vitally needed steadiness for her gentle voice. "And... as I have said... if you wish to kill me I cannot stop you." WolfEyes shakes her head. "Firstly, Wind Runner, I will have no part in killing a Healer. Even if she is only half-Sylvan, she is still a Daughter of the Mother bound to care for Her other Children." And then to Faanshi, "You think I create the laws? No, that is the Council of Elders. I carry those laws out, and have some say in their creation; I lead the tribe in day-to-day matters. But when the Elders speak united, all must listen. The Elders are chosen for their wisdom, and shame would be mine if I did not listen to that wisdom. And if I do badly as Sachem, I can be removed, and another set in my place. I lead, yes, but the Elders create the laws I must lead by and the Tribe must agree them. I can only do my best to lead the tribe as the Mother wills. I am no ultimate authority." A succinct nod. Her point is understood and.. somehow.. expected. Yet, not disrespected either. Perhaps her point was not that she actually wanted to kill the woman, but to show some very valid points. Wind Runner's voice remains solid, though a bit more feminine as her ire cools and the halfbreed is ignored. Talked over, even. "Plans need making, WolfEyes. Repair damage done. Repair honor taken. Difficult for one while other doing." The two clash really. And then? A sigh of disgust. But the end of her speech. Learn something new every day, then. Faanshi listens to WolfEyes intently, bobbing her bared head in acknowledgement of this deficit in her knowledge even as her eyes go a little wide at the realization that this woman is in fact the Sachem. "I did not know about a Council of Elders before, Sachem," she admits shyly, more of that nervousness there, though she struggles to keep it contained. Her eyes are still dark above her translucent veil, her expression strangely bleak even as she earnestly goes on, "And I did not know either that there was an agreement between the Varati and Sylvans that your lands should be unbreached, which I have broken in my ignorance. If the Elders wish to punish me for that I will accept it, but I must ask first if I may return to my mistress to say that the Imphadi al'Sar bides here for the time being to learn from your people, and that he is well and unharmed...?" WolfEyes shakes her head once more. "I do not harm Healers where they leave me a choice, and that you are second-Speaker also means I will do you no harm unless you do something foolish. If you would come again to Apisachi in peace, do not bring the beast with you. It is against Sylvan ways to make an animal dependant on a Sylvan, and it will protect you from nothing while getting in the way." She sighs. "You have much to learn about the people you wish to Speak between, as much as Speaker-to-Sylvans if not more. Speaker-to-Sylvans will want to speak with you again before you leave, I am sure, but until one of you realises that what the Maharani asks is both impossible and against the treaties, you cannot both leave. There is much you must learn about our people, both of you, and you cannot learn it from the stonedweller walls." "You will give oath, stonewalker. Trust you not much, we will, but gives leverage. Break oath, break own life. Swear on life - yours, Salmalin, others - that no death bring you directly or in-directly to Apisachi." A pause, and then something shifts in her gaze, but it is not an easy thing to guess at, this emotion. "Give oath serve Apisachi as serve Queen as now, then we let live you." Go somewhere without Kosha, whom she loves above all things? The thought strikes Faanshi hard, and she shoots a sudden liquid glance down at the hound. For a fraction of an instant she looks extremely young, extremely vulnerable, and extremely bereft, this girl in Varati silks with a Sylvan's eyes and the damaged ears that support the chain that holds her veil. Then the bleakness closes down along her expression again, and she lifts that liquid stare of hers to look between the two Sylvan women. It takes her a few moments -- and the strain is detectable in her face as she wrestles her way through it, for she has no idea of the proper way through which to negotiate this thicket of honor. And then recent memory flashes, Sylvan justice coming to a man she loved, and she is able to find words, even if they are as a winter frost within her heart. "The Son of the Dawn and His Queen must be my first authority in all things, but if I do your people dishonor or bring about the death of any of them, then I break Khalid Atar's holy surahs and you may take my head off my shoulders." _This_, the halfbreed healer says without any trace of nervousness whatsoever. WolfEyes nods. "That is an honourable oath; you come as Speaker, not Traitor. I do not ask you to betray your people, and nor does any other; we do ask you to speak of peace to the Empyrean Varati. If she and hers leave us in peace, as Apisachi wish, there will be no Varati invaders in Apisachi territory to remove. The Empyrean Varati made treaties and has forgotten; remind her of what she said, make her see that all we wish is to be left alone. We are protectors, defenders. We will protect and defend with every last drop of blood, every last breath - provided Stonewalkers stay out of our territory, there is no need for that. The forest is a Sylvan place, stonewalker - and the Empyrean Varati agreed that. Remind her." Not to mention all of the other tribes who are allied with the Apisachi - by such ties they too would fight tooth and nail. Not that it would be any match, of course, but there are always.. other ventures. Disdain remains embedded within Wind Runner's gaze as WolfEyes informs the woman exactly what is on the Apisachi mind. Well, a bit more softly than she would have - she would never have called the woman honorable, after all. Arms sewn with muscle fold before her, tucking her weapon into the crook of her elbow as she regards the Varati. Hrmph. "This will I say to my mistress, Sachem," Faanshi pledges, "and... you are right. If I am to be Speaker I must know your people and if you would teach me I would willingly learn. I have been among the Ettowealona, but..." A beat. Two. Then, aware of a dull ember of embarrassment within her heart, unable to do anything about it manifesting in her face, she appends stoically, "I was... ill, and unable to properly learn." Now her brow crinkles up, as Faanshi finds herself in the uncomfortable position of having to guess the mind of Thalia Tritonides Khalida... and pray that she is right. "That the Imphadi al'Sar is here out of willing respect to the Apisachi and learning from them I will also say... and I do not think that she will be displeased... for it will help him do as she commanded." And it is _definitely_ an improvement over the drunken state in which he'd been in the first time he set foot in Thalia's court, to be sure. WolfEyes shrugs. "There is no shame in illness, Healer. And if Speaker-to-Sylvans is harmed, it is because he attacked us or because we are fighting for our lives in this place. You may come to speak with him, provided you leave the animal behind when you enter the forest, but no others. Speaker-to-Sylvans and second-Speaker have some protection, in our eyes - but more than that is a danger, treachery waiting to boil. And before you say that it would not happen, let me tell you that a tribe neighbouring on my old tribe were wiped out in that fashion. It will not happen here, where our enemies are so alien to us." Another grunt of agreement.. and approval, though why WolfEyes earns either - and how the woman could be so uppity as to assume she is superior enough to issue either - is in question. Instead, she allows the woman to continue to speak - at least it gains a bit of conversation, and perhaps a bit more that Wind Runner is not ready to admit. Not yet, at least. Despite the amber gaze, there remains nothing warm within. Nothing cold, but nothing warm. But they do widen, aye, just a tad to the careful observer, and nostrils flare in a cat-like fashion. Gaze whipping upwards and away, the forest is scanned. Small and inadequate as she feels within, Faanshi isn't about to make a claim she isn't sure she can support. Her gaze goes down to Kosha again in silent apology, even as she bobs her head again in acknowledgement of the rule that her beloved hound must be left behind the next time she enters these woods. As for Kosha -- he simply basks in Faanshi's attention, returning her gaze with undeniable devotion, his tail starting to wag. "I will leave Kosha at home when next I enter the woods, Sachem," she murmurs humbly. "Am I to say to the Queen as well that it is not yet known when the Speaker will return?" Quiet-Eyes comes out of the cave. Quiet-Eyes has arrived. WolfEyes nods. "As we teach him of Sylvans, he teaches us of Varati. That should please your slave-keeper." As she speaks, there are a few subtle signals - one foot moves on the ground, rustling a leaf - a quietly audible acknowledgement to Wind Runner. WolfEyes does not look up, trusting the other to find whatever caused the disturbance she has sensed and alert her if necessary. "And though I can see the animal is devoted to you, it offends Sylvan ways to bring him. I would not visit your people and call your God a halfbreed to their faces, after all." Quiet-Eyes emerges from the cave with a glance around. When she sees WolfEyes it is noted with a respectful nod. She glances around a bit more. Curious as to what had happened to her fellow students and her teacher. Perhaps they had left her behind? Brows dip, just barely. Snufflesnuffle. If her expression is to say anything, it would be 'odd', would Wind Runner's. Instead, her lips twitch in thought and she steps away from the small gathering - Faanshi and her pup propped against the tree and WolfEyes lecturing her like she's two - and offers a few padded steps towards the forest. "WolfEyes. A.. family. Shadow Cougars." Or panthers, as a translation may make of it. Faanshi starts at WolfEyes' blunt words about Khalid -- and stares aghast for a moment at the Sachem, not at all sure what she thinks about _that_, and never mind the dismaying notion that the dog she has cherished since he was a puppy is considered by someone to be an _offense_. That's a switch -- usually it is _she_ who offends. Her mouth opens and closes behind her veil for a moment, a flutter of delicate lips behind delicate silk, and it is clear this shy creature is struggling yet again to handle a kind of speech entirely outside her ken. "I understand," she whispers, trying not to sound too terribly upset, not at all certain if she's succeeding. "If... Kosha offends... then if the Sachem consents, I will take him to the edge of Apisachi lands and... wait there, if the Speaker wishes to talk to me before I return to Atesh-Gah." Two quiet words, WolfEyes' attention already split between Wind Runner's announcement and Faanshi, "Not now." One of WolfEyes' hands moves up to untie the lacings at her neck as she looks around the clearing. When she spots Quiet-Eyes, she nods. "Healer," she tells Faanshi, "Healer," indicating Quiet-Eyes, and still her voice is lowered as she says, "Speaker, go to Healer. Bring dog. Be ready." Something not entirely Sylvan is doing the speaking, amber eyes strange, focussing elsewhere as the woman tenses. A few blue motes come to the surface of her skin, gleaming before the disappear again, the visible signs of WolfEyes making ready her magic. Quiet-Eyes frowns in confusion but offers a nod to the Sachem. She makes a come here gesture towards 'Speaker' and waits for the Speaker to move. Another sniff, and a sigh. "Passing through. Purposeful upwind. Smart." Nevermind that her eyes glow so close to those of the cats she likely was snuffling out. At last her gaze returns to the Sachem, before lowering on the halfbreed. "No right to keep animals as pets. Animals not pets. Break freedom of Goddess by taking pets. Taint Goddess' animals." That is why it is not allowed for the dog to return, Wind Runner is trying to explain. Does Faanshi get it? Perhaps -- though she does murmur half to herself, that strange bleak look briefly crossing her eyes once again, "Kosha is my _friend_." One of the few she's got that hasn't _died_, though she does not give that voice. And besides -- something strange is happening to WolfEyes, which gives the shudra a warning that it may be advisable to get Kosha out of the way. The dog, too, seems to sense something. Whining, he backs up a step from the Sachem; Faanshi turns to him, beckoning urgently to bring him to her heel so that she may guide him towards Quiet-Eyes. "Come, Kosha, come...!" The strangeness fades from WolfEyes, though not completely. Once it has been highlighted, it can be seen that it is always present, though not always so obvious. There is something un-Sylvan about her, in the tilt of her jaw, the calm of her gaze, and her habit of watching everything rather than focusing on something in particular when no-one is directly speaking with her. She nods a quiet thanks to Wind Runner, before adding, "They are clever, but still too close. Go with them, Inkana? Watch them until you are sure?" "Aye, Wolfeyes." A firm glance at the stonewalker - better not misbehave! - and an acknowledging nod to Quiet-Eyes, before her gaze focuses fully upon the forest, judging.. gauging. Feet fold to roll her onto the balls, staff slinking to a perpendicular slant as muscles bunch and her body crouches. Wait.. wait.. and there it is. Motion erupts within the woman, propelling Wind Runner into the forest, as quickly and silently as her name mentions, leaving only a breath of wind in her wake. Quiet-Eyes watches as the Speaker approaches, her brows drawn together in a curious frown. The dog is her pet? Strange indeed. "Chookma Speaker." She calls out in a quiet voice. Quiet-Eyes A tall willowy sylvan stands before you, her calm collected poise almost a silent barrier between you and her. Her paleish green eyes are calm and quiet, giving her the name Quiet-Eyes. Her wild brown hair, falls in riotous curls around her face and down to the small of her back. She wears the typical garb of a forest sylvan, and what skin is not covered by clothing is marked by tattoos, they roam over her body but rather than seeming like many different designs they make up one complete picture. Kosha is still not at all sure of the changes in scent he can pick up from WolfEyes, but he goes where Faanshi leads, lingering bemusedly at her heel while casting a wary canine regard in the direction of the woman who smelled distinctly _confusing_ for a moment or two there. As for the halfbreed, she looks disconcertedly at this newcomer, but she also inclines her dark head and answers back, "Chookma." The wolf-graisha thoughtfully unlaces her vambraces, slipping them off and tying them to her belt. She makes no move to retie the thongs at the neck of her shirt, and she shifts her shoulders to resettle the heavy pelt on them before turning back towards Faanshi and Quiet-Eyes. Whatever strangeness must have come over the Sachem seems to be fading, Faanshi tells herself. She casts another glance at Quiet-Eyes, not sure what to make of this one, still distinctly bothered by what she has been told of Kosha's giving offense by the very nature of his existence... and bothered, too, by the bluntness of the reception she has gotten. It feels distinctly odd to have to speak up again to ask for WolfEyes' attention for she who is accustomed to waiting for her betters to speak to _her_... but nevertheless. "Ah, Sachem..." The shudra's shy voice takes wing from behind that veil she wears, as she tentatively repeats, "If you will permit it, I will take Kosha away so as not to give offense in your lands... and wait for any word from the Imphadi al'Sar on the edge of your territory...?" Shuffle, tap. Shuffle, tap. Down the trail from the forest comes MistedWing, looking like a drowned chicken. WolfEyes shrugs eloquently. "He is here now. It is of no matter. Until you leave, the animal can stay with you." Amber eyes gleam as she looks down at the dog, frowning, before looking back up at the owner, her expression smoothing over. "And you may as well wait for Speaker-to-Sylvans here. There is food, and shelter should you need it." At the sound of the cane, WolfEyes' expression lightens somewhat. SilentDawn emerges with her faithful staff. She leaves the forest behind. Always off some where. She stops as she enters the outer area. The Sachem and Faanshi? Her fellow student...what is that infernal tapping noise? Faanshi has slept the entire night outside -- and the garments she wears still haven't quite lost the inevitable dampness of a sporadically rainy night, even if she had been curled up in a bedroll. Her feet are still a little heavy from the long walk from the city -- though her magic has swept down to chase the actual ache from her flesh. She is still not sufficiently rested, and on top of it all, she has to admit that she is in fact hungry. So's Kosha, for that matter. The dog recognizes the word 'food' and gives a couple hopeful wags of that proud tail of his, even as the shudra blinks and seems momentarily stunned at the Sachem's gruff concession. "Thank you, Sachem," she murmurs, bowing her head, and though she speaks softly even now she cannot conceal her relief. Quiet-Eyes watches the exchange, once more nervous as more Sylvan's enter the area. WolfEyes shrugs again. So things are of no moment. If the woman can stay, then of course she can have food and shelter - these things usually go without saying. But then the woman is not Sylvan - perhaps she did not understand. MistedWing makes her way toward the fire, giving a general, "Chookma," to all. She moves to procure a cup of tea before sitting down. SilentDawn makes her way toward the bank. She watches the conversation. A gentle "Chookma Sachem" she nods with a slight smile to Faanshi and her fellow student. Then her gaze goes to MW "Chookma elder." actually sight of MW, is to blame for the veering in SilentDawn's course There are only a few certainities in Faanshi's life, and those are the love of the big dog at her side, the power to heal she carries in her hands, and the sovreignty of Khalid Atar over all things in her existence. Aside from that, though, the shudra takes nothing for granted. Not where she will be welcome, who will give her food and shelter, or who will turn her away and revile her on the simple grounds that her blood is a 'taint'. And so, yes, it can well be argued that she did not understand that food and shelter would be proffered her; as WolfEyes herself has observed, there is much this second Speaker from the Varati must learn. For now, though, it seems that Faanshi must learn how to deal with a sudden influx of Children of Earth into the clearing she occupies. Hard-learned force of habit tries to demand that she fade into the background -- but a little tremor of shock courses through her as it occurs to her that the ways of a shudra may not necessarily be what she must follow _here_. That they are not necessarily the ways of one who has been called a Speaker to Sylvans. Should she not, therefore, speak? "Chookma," she ventures then to those who have arrived, her green gaze swiveling timidly in their direction. WolfEyes watches the stranger, noting the tremor and the body-language that tells her Faanshi is trying to be brave and succeeding. With a small nod of satisfaction and slight smile of approval for Faanshi, she turns towards the fire (and, not-so-incidentally, the food), nodding a quiet "Chookma," of her own to all these others. Quiet-Eyes approaches the elder MistedWing with a hesitant smile for SilentDawn. "Chookma Elder. How are you doing today." She holds her hands out before her, staring at them intently before she tears her gaze away with a quick almost scared breath. "Would you allow me to help you again?" SilentDawn This Sylvan female stands tall. Hair as dark as midnight falls to her waist. Barely visible are her pointed ears. She wears a long dress made of hide. It is made for ease of function. This she wears over her deep auburn skin. At her waist is a leather belt. Her feet are adorned by leather half boots. Age has caused this woman to always carry a staff of solid Oak. Carrying: Staff SilentDawn sits down at the fire, after getting a cup of tea. She silently watches. MistedWing manages a smile for Quiet-Eyes. "Chookma, QuietEyes. Yes, that would be appreciated." She sits down, sipping her tea as she glances around the clearing. "Chookma, Varati." Hey, what do you know. She actually seems to know who people are. For the moment. There is a soft rustling in the bushes near the caves...and it seems to come closer to those at the campfire. It is almost a rustling that is trying not to be...as if the rustler is trying to be as still and silent as possible. Of course, when the rustler is not yet four years old it is rather difficult to be so controlled. But he isn't all that bad for his age. No, courage is not really a quality that Faanshi has been expected to cultivate in the past -- at least, not in so many words, not so far as she knows. So here and now, feeling immensely out of her element and never mind that she has never been truly sure what her element _is_. But somehow she's finding something resembling courage now, faced by all these strangers... and -- her gaze flickers over SilentDawn for a moment, and as had happened with WolfEyes, so too for this other woman does the halfbreed seem to show a spark of recognition. On the other hand, it also provokes a return of that periodic bleakness which seems to haunt her eyes... at least for a moment. With an effort, Faanshi shakes off the memory of the last thing she saw in the territory of the Ettowealona, inclining her head to both MistedWing and SilentDawn before glancing at last once more at the Sachem. "If there is work to be done," she says then, "I would willingly do it... the making of food, or the mending of clothing. I know a little of such things, from when the Ettowealona succored me in my illness." WolfEyes smiles, nodding distinct approval at Faanshi. "There is usually help needed with the cooking," she says, "And doubtless you know things we do not." There'll be someone who recognises herbs working with Faanshi if she's cooking, but that's only to be expected. The rustling bush gets a grin, but WolfEyes is interested in food, now, really, a hint of the alien surfacing once more as the graisha feels a touch of hunger. MistedWing glancing toward the rustling bush, it bringing a chuckle to her lips. "Little Tree, come on out here, silly boy. Where's your mother?" Quiet-Eyes settles down in a kneeling posture next to the elder to begin the ritual of easing joint pain. She starts with the near shoulder again, eyes closed working. Sure it makes her nervous to see so many around her but she struggles against it. SilentDawn blinks and looks over to the rustling. Yet still some of her attention remains with the elder and her fellow student. She intends to be available to help if needed LittleTree While barely having a handfull of years, this Sylvan child seems to have an attention span far older than his age. Bright green eyes peek from a tanned and freckled face framed by fire-red curls. Peeking out from that brilliant hair are two pointed ears, the trademark of a Sylvan. There is little of baby fat about him as he is always running or climbing, making him a slender, wiry child. He can, when he chooses to, sit in someone's lap as still as can be...but only when he is in someone's lap. Getting him to sit by himself is nearly impossible. Dressed in simple clothes, he wears some soft leather breeches of brown and an even softer leather shirt of a bright orange, to match his hair. His feet are often bare in the warmer weather, but covered in soft boots during the cold. A mop of red curls shows itself before LittleTree's freckled face, "Dunno..." is the answer as he looks, wide-eyed, at the strange lady here. As for being silly, aren't children supposed to be silly? "Silvie's napping and I don't wanna nap. I wanna eat with you." His lower lip sticks out in a pout as he hugs the last bush he rustled. Food. Faanshi said one of the Magic Words again! Kosha's tail wags vigorously and he gives her a nudge against her thigh, as to put in his own opinion on this entire concept of cooking. The halfbreed girl glances down at her dog, and although she does not exactly smile, there is for him a slight lessening of the starkness of her gaze. And as she peeks in the direction the others are looking, as LittleTree makes his presence known, so too does _he_ provoke a softening of Faanshi's bleak countenance. "Chookma" is murmured to him as well, though at the moment the shudra is half-occupied by the need to find something to do with herself so long as she and Kosha are to wait for Salmalin's return. The waiting will be easier, with something to do with her hands, and she is not yet confident enough to pull from her basket the lyre she has brought with her. No... she will work first. There is some comfort, after all, in upholding her own personal belief that a shudra's place is to serve -- even if she is not shudra to these people. MistedWing pats her lap, on the side opposite to the one Quiet-Eyes is working on. "Get your food and we will share, hm?" She only has tea right now. "And tell Gran what you have been up to. Quiet-Eyes, this is my great-grandson, LittleTree." WolfEyes makes her way to the fire, and to the meatsticks that are always kept nearby. She picks two up, starting on one of them, eating heartily but with manners, massive canine teeth biting gently on the meat rather than tearing it to shreds as could be done. SilentDawn smiles and sips her tea. Yet her features are tinged with a heavy sadness as she watches the boy. Quiet-Eyes concentrates through the activity around her on healing. Letting her magic flow through her hands and work into the muscles loosening them and assisting blood flow. She is so focused she only nods at her name. Not quite realizing what's been said but with enough attention paid to understand it. "Chookma," is offered almost shyly to the strange woman but at his great-gransmother's words LittleTree goes back to a frown, "No. I want my own food." He doesn't want to share. He's almost four, he should be entitled to that, yes? And he does stay near the tree, as if afraid of something. MistedWing sighs softly and nods. "Yes, alright. I just thought it would be easier to eat it that way until Quiet-Eyes is done. Go ahead and get your food." She turns to looks at SilentDawn. "You I do not know. Chookma. I am MistedWing." Faanshi _hasn't_ gone unguarded this entire time -- for after all, the sentries of the Apisachi are vigilant ones, and the young man whose turn it is to keep an eye on the shudra, who has been doing so since dawn, stirs himself from the low tree branch on which he'd been quietly perched, surveying the entire clearing as well as the odd-looking visitor herself. "I'll take her to my sister," he calls out. "We do have some mending that needs doing, last I checked." It's almost as gruff an offer as that from WolfEyes, but still, Faanshi looks almost grateful at this concrete offer of an actual task she can do, a small thing she can accomplish to demonstrate her good intentions. She bobs her head at the young guard, and lets herself be led away even as she peeks once more at those who remain. In a few moments, she's gone, the last signal of her presence being the sentry's voice as he calls out for his sister through the trees. [End log.]