Wanderer Slot Prompts

The warmth of a spring dawn presses around her as she moves through the forest, with the ever-present mist clinging to her legs. Dromedas pauses to stretch her legs and back, before shaking out her feathers. The decision to set up her territory here was not an easy one, and the danger of angering Hyperion with her activities was always there. However, being here, away from others, is a blessing. She flicks her ears around, pinpointing the flock of birds that announce Hyperion's location. Once she pinpoints his location, she moves in an almost parallel direction away from him towards a stream. The water invites her in with its familiar burbling. 

As she leans down to drink, something puts her on guard. She continues lowering her head, but flicks her ears around, and cautiously reaches out with her magic. There, on the opposite side.

"Hello, I don't normally get visitors," she says as she drinks.

The stranger startles, and comes out from the mist, Dromedas sees the glow on their body before their shape becomes clear. They are massive, and look unlike anything she'd ever seen before. Scaled plates line their body, and they easily could knock her down flat if they wished. Oh, she'd heard rumblings of something that happened out west on one of her few excursions outside Silverglade, but she paid little mind to it. Now, she wishes she paid better attention to what people were saying. Before she could say something else, they spoke.

"I didn't want to intrude. My name is Atheristay," they said, bowing their head and slightly holding one leg in front of them.

"Well met, my name is Dromedas. You're welcome to pass through my territory, or stay for a short while. All I ask is that you respect Hyperion, which is to say, don't abuse the land's bounty," she said firmly.

Atheristay nods their head in acknowledgement, "I wanted to see for myself this place of wild beauty after hearing the stories. However, I did have something to ask of you. There's a temple here, or that's what the merchants told me, but they were rather sparse on details as to its location. I'd like to see it, in turn you may ask a boon of me."

Dromedas mulls it over in her head, I know the temple, it's not far from here, only a few hours' hike. There will be some pilgrims there for the spring equinox, and they may need resources before leaving. She looks up at Atheristay, with mist clinging between both of their legs.

"I'll take you, but on the way there, we should gather some things to bring to the pilgrims. They'll be friendlier if we have offerings and food to share. To do that we'll need some basic supplies form my den, follow me," she says.

Atheristay agrees quietly and follows her. She can hear their steps behind her, as quiet as her own. Before heading to the temple, she needed to grab her baskets, which meant going to her den. They traveled in companionable silence; something she wasn't used to with most people, as enough of them felt the need to speak to fill in the emptiness. It put her at ease around them. Dawn light gives way to morning light, and she enjoys the soft gasp of awe behind her as the first rays light through the trees.

Softly, she hears, "I never knew the surface could be so magical."

Part of her basks in the wonder and amazement Atheristay shows, having an idea of the feelings they were going through; she'd gone through something similar her first morning here. Even still, she finds her breath catching at the sheer beauty of this place. If an equal exists, I have yet to see it, she thinks. Then, they're at her den. A comfortable place beneath the roots of an ancient tree, dug with care to not harm the tree's roots or stability. The entryway is solidified with rocks and clay to keep more dirt from breaking away as she comes and goes. She goes inside the antechamber and looks out, inspecting it. Dromedas wrinkles her snout in thought.

"I'm not sure if you can fit through the entry way, but if you can it does widen inside before the main chamber," says Dromedas, turning around to look at Atheristay.

Atheristay inspects the entryway from a respectful distance before gracefully dropping to their belly and inspecting it some more. They turn their head this way and that, angling their antlers. Dromedas sits to watch, There's nothing she can do besides bringing out her gear if Atheristay is unable to enter; the clay and stone has been set for several seasons. She's startled then when Atheristay exhales, and then squeezes through in a fluid movement. Dromedas moves out of their way as they stand.

Behind her, she hears Atheristay moving about her simple den as she grabs the baskets and tools that they'd need. Within minutes they're back outside. The baskets and back straps she has won't fit across Atheristay's back. Expecting this, she modifies two of them to make an extended strap. Atheristay watches her intently as she threads the leather cord through the straps to join them together. The basket swivels she cut off she set aside for later, never know when backup parts will come in handy. She tugs the straps roughly to make sure they'll hold, and then shows Atheristay how to put them on. After that, the baskets. Inside she places some basic rations, and goods from her hoard to trade with any pilgrims who might be there. 

Once they're both ready, she angles them towards a game trail that heads in the right direction. The sun is still rising as they pick their way towards the first creek. Mist curls up off the burbling water like unfolding ferns. The silence between her and Atheristay is companionable, and as comfortable as it can be between two strangers, albeit friendly ones. She can feel more questions burning from her companion, and before she can say something, Atheristay speaks, and proves her wrong.

"The surface is like the stories told to us by the those with the Cartographer's Guild. Growing up, we learned about the war, and the scars it left behind. It wasn't a huge stretch of the imagination to think that many places in the world were still devastated, or barren. To learn, and see that it's not, is wonderful. It's as if there was a pressure I didn't realize was there squeezing my chest being suddenly gone. And this place especially, is so alive. It's part of why it feels so magical to me. I love it," Atheristay finishes, looking around again with awe.

Dromedas is left at a loss of words, and mulls over Atheristay's words and just how wrong she was. That'll show me to assume things, especially with strangers, she chastises herself. While mulling over what her trail companion said, a question comes to mind.

"What was it like, growing up where you did?" she asks.

Atheristay's eyes light up, and the leagues fly by as they exchange stories of their cubhoods. Successes, failures, embarrassments, things that looking back now, they can laugh about. Dromedas feels like she knows Atheristay better, and they her. Atheristay's ability with voices and sound effects certainly helped in their storytelling; it drew her in like moth to flame. As the sun begins to set they make camp. Atheristay looks down sheepishly and says something about forgetting to hunt. Dromedas tells them they can gather and hunt in the morning, the day of exchanging stories was something she wouldn't trade for anything. They perk up at this, and settle in next to her. 

Dromedas started a small charcoal fire to keep them warm through the night. However, the heat radiating from it was nothing compared to Atheristay's body. Dromedas fights to keep her eyes open to keep watch, but Atheristay says they'll take first watch. She nods her head, and curls her tail around herself. 

She finds herself drifting off quickly, 

***

The next morning she stretches in the early dawn light, shaking her body awake. They each took two shifts that night keeping guard, and she had just finished her last one. Dromedas gently nudges Atheristay's side. Their eyes open, but sleep is still present as they yawn and stretch themself out. Today was a day for gathering, and hunting, whatever they could get their claws on and into their baskets. As soon as Atheristay is awake enough, she douses the coal fire, and carefully wraps the remnants to dry in a small pouch. Once that was done, she plotted their course for the day in her mind. Their first place to check was a patch of vegetation near a stream. She knew some valubale herbs grew there, and some were starting to come into season for harvesting. 

It took half an hour to reach the turn off to the spot, and she almost missed it. Some large bushes were in the place a tree used to be, specifically a tree she had carved a symbol onto to mark the spot to turn many seasons ago. She sighs, and goes back several steps to a new tree, on the edge of the bush plot, and carves her herb symbol carefully into the bark. Atheristay follows behind quietly.

"This is a symbol I use to mark where herb patches are. It wouldn't really mean anything to anyone else, not a word or a letter, or anything like that. I came up with it when I was a cub with a friend. I've used it since," she said.

Atheristay's perked up at this, probably realizing it was a story she hadn't told yet. Nor was it one she wanted to tell as the memories were still too raw for her, all these years later. Thankfully, they didn't ask about it, and for that she was grateful. It wasn't dignified to cry in front of a stranger-acquaintance. And as hard as she's worked to change the near-instinctual self standards her upbringing ingrained in her that she knew weren't good for her, this is one of them that stayed like a stubborn burr. Stop, don't go down that thought trail, she reminds herself, and she takes a deep calming breath as she goes down the path. 

The sounds of the stream pull her back into the present, into the light. With the smells of warming duff and wet rocks filling her nose. Suddenly, they're both there. Dromedas points out the herbs to Atheristay, and how to bundle them up to store in the baskets. They ask her about drying, and she tells them that they're close enough to the temple it won't do the herbs any harm to not be immediately hung to dry. They nod their head, and ask which of the plants to pick, and what parts. Dromedas chastises herself again, many of these plants were probably new to them. She explains which of the plants in the bed should be picked, and what parts. 

After they each had several bundles, she walked further down the stream to a different spot, then turned at a large boulder before stopping at the edge of a clearing. The drier ground was home to a different plant, that was starting to bloom. These would need much more tender care, and while picking, ears pricked for the calls of a certain creature. Atheristay gets to work carefully picking the blooming herbs. A thought jumps out to her, a warning she forgot.

"Hey, if you hear a trill, stop whatever you're doing and back up into the trees slowly and go towards the stream as quietly as you can. This clearing is on the edge of where a flock of bauble griffins patrol. You'll know when they spot you, because the calls will change. They're small, but vicious, and have no problem going for your eyes first," she warns.

Atheristay whispers, "is being quiet best?"

Dromedas nods her head. They get to work quietly, and both look about keeping an eye and ear out for the flock. Soon, they have enough and leave the clearing without disturbing the bauble griffins, thankfully. Tension leaves her body as they put distance between themselves and the bauble griffin territory. As they pick their way back to the main trail, a low chuff catches her attention. She drops to the ground, and Atheristay follows suit. 

She carefully glances in the direction of her target when they look at her. Off in the trees, is an older troldeeren buck. One of his tusks is broken off, and the other is worn down, and his antlers are chipped from a recent battle. His breathing is labored. Dromedas balances the risks fighting a large buck who's made it this long, with the fact he's clearly injured. She shifts subtly and flicks her ear closest to Atheristay, and they take it as their cue to leap at the troldeeren. He's only bale to let out a startled bleat before Atheristay's powerful jaws cut off his cry. He kicks powerfully at her, but his hooves slide off her body plates. Soon, the kicking stops and he's still completely. 

Atheristay whips their head around to toss the body onto her back. 

"We're almost to the temple, yes? Will this keep long enough for us to get there without cleaning the meat?" they ask.

"It should, it's not a warm day and it's a short hike. We're close enough to the bauble griffins that I don't want to risk attracting them either by cleaning the carcass. For us and any pilgrims who may be at the temple," she says.

Atheristay nods their head and they continue on.