Blood Ties

Morwyn flexed her hands as she squinted to the east, taking in the landscape painted gold by the rising sun. The leather of her new gloves creaked softly as she worked to break them in. Yvonne had been quiet the night before as she'd fitted her with a new pair of archer's gloves at Hazel's request. Morwyn had noticed the occasional glance at her scale but thankfully the elf hadn't been in the mood to ask questions. It seemed that she was grateful to have an excuse to focus on something related to her craft, though Morwyn could plainly see the lingering hurt in Yvonne's features as she made the final adjustments. She thought it odd that the gloves only covered the thumb and forefinger of her left hand and the middle three fingers of her right, but Morwyn quickly got used to them and was pleased that they didn't interfere with her grip on her sword hilt.

As she once again stood in her accustomed place on the right flank of the column and surveyed the unfamiliar geography, Argoth paused beside her while conducting his morning inspection.

“Quite different from what you're used to, aye?” There was a note of reverence in the orc's tone as he crossed his arms and gazed eastward with her.

“That's a bit of an understatement,” Morwyn replied as she shaded her eyes with one hand. “It looks so barren. Does anything live out there?”

Argoth chuckled and extended a finger to direct her vision toward a massive canyon that carved its way through the rocky earth to the northeast. It was the largest of an uncountable number of similar paths winding down from the mountains and onto the seemingly endless, empty plains below. Most of them thinned and narrowed down until they faded from existence but the grand canyon continued ever onward until it faded into obscurity on the horizon.

“Most things that live out here do so near that river,” the orc explained. “Though to be fair, this place is pretty desolate. We're fortunate to have a mighty wizard with us who can conjure water so we can avoid the more... populated areas of the Badlands.”

Morwyn turned to face Argoth with a frown.

“Populated? By whom?”

The orc shook his head and gave her a grin that was all tusks and teeth.

“Not people, if that's what you're askin'. The rest of the continent thinks the frontier they know is the edge of the world. For them it might as well be, but we're off the map now. Here there be monsters.”

“Didn't take you for a student of cartography,” Morwyn murmured under her breath as she searched for any signs of movement in the plains below the foothills, wishing that she had a spyglass. “The further out we go, the harder it is to believe that there are soft beds waiting for us at the end of this journey.”

Argoth let out a laugh and clapped her gently on the shoulder. For the first time the gesture of affection didn't threaten to knock her over.

“There are, that I promise you. But now you really see why nobody makes it to the Vale uninvited. It's the safest place in the world, and the most dangerous to get to.”

Morwyn glanced to her left and let her eyes travel the length of the caravan, lingering over the individuals forced to march on foot with so many of their wagons having been destroyed. A fair number of them still bore bandages and slings as they struggled through their final preparations, but their spirits seemed a bit higher now that they were out of the mountains.

“Argoth,” she whispered as she leaned in close, “we're in bad shape. I know everyone's trying to keep their hopes up but... do you really think we can make it?”

The orc's brows knit as he considered her question before responding.

“Their wounds are fresh but they'll turn to scars, and the scars will fade with time. Both in their bodies and their hearts. So yes, I do believe we can do it. Besides, with the damage Ren did to the mage that was huntin' us, it ain't likely they'll be a problem anymore. He told me he damn near blew off the top of the mountain runnin' them off.”

“Hunting me,” Morwyn corrected him under her breath. Argoth's ears twitched and his contemplative frown suddenly deepened into one bordering on anger. He prodded her shoulder with one big finger, jingling her chain-mail.

“Us,” he repeated, emphasizing the word along with the sharp jab. “Don't know how many times we've got to tell you that. You are one of us, like it or not. Stop tryin' to distance yourself. It's holdin' you back. Are you gonna listen this time, or do I need to knock some sense into you?”

“No, that won't be necessary,” Morwyn said as she held up her hands in a placating gesture. She lowered them slowly, resting one on the hilt of her sword for the comfort of familiarity as she turned from him and looked out across the Badlands again. “I'm sorry, boss. I know I belong here with you, it's probably just my nerves. Everything feels like it's piling on at once and I'm worried.”

Argoth's posture relaxed but he still looked troubled as he glanced back toward the caravan as she had done.

“Don't get me wrong, I know we're in a bind, but we'll make it without further losses as long as we're careful. We just have to play it smart. I have done this a time or two, you know.”

A piercing whistle from the front of the caravan caught their attention and Eronir waved at them impatiently. Morwyn gave Argoth a wry smile and a bow of her head.

“A time or two... or twenty. I'll trust in your experience, old man.”

“Watch who you call old,” Argoth growled, though his smirk took the bite out of his remark. “Let's get movin'. We've got a long ways to go before this journey's over.”

The next several days passed without incident as the caravan ventured carefully into the desolate, rocky plains of the Badlands. Though wary of the strange new terrain and expecting strange creatures to leap out from behind every outcropping of stone or dry creek bed, Morwyn found herself grateful for the boring routine of the march as well as their ponderous pace that allowed her body to recover. With each day that passed and with the attention of Hazel and her dutiful assistant, the wounded within the caravan began to regain more of their strength. Morwyn noticed a gradual shift in their attitude as well. They stepped a bit lighter, their laughter was less forced, and a spark of excitement had returned to their eyes when they looked to the east and whispered speculations about their new home. Moments of solemn silence remained as the folk remembered their fallen comrades, but they were more reverent and less heartbroken with each mile that passed beneath their feet.

When they weren't traveling and she wasn't on guard duty or helping Hazel tend to the injured, Morwyn filled her spare time by scribbling notes and drawings in her journal as she tried to make sense of their surroundings. The land was harsh and unforgivably hot under the blazing sun of early summer, but it was a dry heat with a persistent wind that seemed to suck the moisture out of everything it touched. Strange animals scurried about beneath the sparse shade of equally strange plants. Everything that grew or lived there seemed to have spines, stingers, thorns, or venom. Eronir had called the place a desert. Each time it was referred to as such Morwyn's dry mouth watered at intrusive thoughts of her sister Elaine's blueberry pie.

They traveled mostly in the early hours of the morning and the late hours of the evening to escape the brutal heat of day. Though Morwyn was less affected by extremes of temperature than the others, even she could feel herself baking under the oppression of the sun. For the first time in her life a slight tinge of red graced her exposed skin but she was glad that she didn't blister and peel like others of pale complexion within the party. Argoth and Trux, both of darker skin themselves, had teased Eronir relentlessly as Hazel applied a thick ointment to his sunburned ears and nose. Most everyone wore their cloaks with their hoods up after that, as the discomfort of their warmth was preferable to suffering from direct sunlight and the healer's less than gentle ministrations.

The days began to blur together with nothing of much note to set them apart, and Morwyn took to giving herself mental instructions to keep the boredom at bay.

Put one foot in front of the other.

Scan for trouble.

Take a sip of water.

Avoid the cactus.

Move the snake away from the path with a stick.

During the midday break at the end of their first week in the Badlands, which she only knew from keeping her daily journal rather than any sense of the passage of time, Morwyn found herself once again in a chair beneath the shade of a tarp lashed to the side of Hazel's wagon while the halfling napped on a cot beside her. She twirled her pen idly between her fingers with her journal on her lap and stared blankly at the increasingly brief entries on the open page. The worn old book was nearly full, with only a dozen or so pages remaining.

“Anything interesting to chronicle today?”

Morwyn jumped as the sound of Yvonne's voice broke through her absentminded daze. She looked up to see both Yvonne and Eronir, hooded and cloaked with their weapons in hand, watching her from a short distance away. Suddenly self-conscious, Morwyn quickly closed her journal and stowed her pen before rising to greet them.

“Nothing much, I'm afraid. Need me for something?”

“There's an oasis about half a day's journey from here,” Eronir replied, his stoic demeanor made a bit silly by the lines of protective ointment on his nose and cheeks. “We're leaving now to scout ahead. Our rations are running low, so we're hoping to find some game there before the noise of the caravan scares it off. If we make good time we should get there an hour or two before sunset. Want to join us?”

“Oh gods, yes, please,” Morwyn said as she stowed her writing supplies. She quickly donned her pack and quiver and snatched up her bow from where she'd leaned it against the wagon. “I've been dying for something to break up the monotony.”

“Me too,” Yvonne agreed with an anxious nod. “After the battle I felt like every day was going to be another crisis, but it's all been so mundane that it's driving me crazy. Instead of shying from it, I find myself itching for some action.”

Eronir gave Morwyn a knowing look. Though they'd never broached the subject, they had both gone through something similar after their first mortal struggles. It was a common shared experience for those in the profession of violence.

“We might yet find it,” Eronir said with a note of warning. “Game animals aren't the only ones drawn to the water. The things that hunt them are as well.”

“Argoth mentioned that the predators out here are more... monstrous than what we're used to. Anything you can tell us?” Morwyn asked as she adjusted her quiver and tested her reach to the arrows within. Eronir leaned on his spear and tilted his head pensively.

“There are thresher cats. They hunt in prides as large as twelve or more. They're huge beasts with long, sickle shaped claws and large fangs, hence the name. They can be territorial but it's the toss of a coin whether or not they'll flee or fight. There are also rhino moles, but you've seen those now. Best to avoid them at all costs without Argoth to help us. Basilisks and chimeras are rare, but they're known on the rest of the continent so they're probably not new to you. Same with trolls and worgs, they're not too different from what you might know except for their colors. What else...” The elf scratched his nose in thought, smearing the ointment in the process. “Oh, right. Desert monitors.”

“Desert monitors? Like... something that keeps a tally of all the cactuses?” Yvonne asked with dry sarcasm.

“Cacti,” Eronir chided her, followed by a roll of Yvonne's eyes. “And no. They're giant lizards, easily four foot high and twenty feet long. They've got powerful, whip-like tails, serrated teeth, scales like armor, wicked claws, and a venom that would make you beg for death if it didn't kill you outright. Vicious bastards.”

“Sounds like you've got a grudge,” Morwyn prompted. In response, Eronir unbuckled his bracer and slid up his chain-mail sleeve as well as the arming jacket beneath it. His right forearm sported two curved lines of scars that indicated a massive bite mark. The sheer size of each individual puncture made Morwyn cringe and she wondered how the man's arm was still attached.

“You could say that,” Eronir muttered darkly as he tugged his armor back down to his wrist and buckled the bracer back in place.

“Alright, maybe I'm not so eager for action,” Yvonne said, fear and worry written plainly on her face. The elf shivered involuntarily despite the heat of the day. Though Morwyn felt much the same, a hateful question occurred to her. She thought it better to ask it rather than to keep her peace, despite her apprehension.

“Are any of those creatures... um... edible?”

Eronir gave her a look of baffled concern while Yvonne balked.

“Well... I mean... I suppose so, aside from the basilisk, and a chimera would be a nightmare to prepare safely. I've never really thought about it.”

“If you think I'm going to eat a monster, you've got another thing coming,” Yvonne said with a huff.

“You already have,” came a muffled reply from behind them. The trio turned to see Hazel roll over on her cot with a groan, one arm draped over her eyes to block out the light. “Where do you think that fresh meat we had a few days ago came from?”

Yvonne's eyes darted frantically between her companions with growing horror.

“No... no. Absolutely not. You did not feed me goblin meat!”

Morwyn snorted with laughter and quickly covered her mouth while Eronir closed his eyes and let out a sigh.

“No, dear, of course it wasn't goblin. It was the rhino mole.” He turned to scowl at Hazel who was peeking out from beneath her arm with a mischievous smile. “I wasn't going to tell her. Thanks for that.”

“You weren't going to tell me?!” Yvonne exclaimed, smacking Eronir's shoulder with the back of her hand. Eronir made a valiant effort to hide the smile that was twitching at the corner of his mouth, but Morwyn caught the briefest glimpse before he regained his composure. She interjected before Yvonne could take out even more frustration on her beleaguered lover.

“I felt much the same when Hazel told me,” Morwyn said in as soothing of a tone as she could muster while fighting back an errant giggle. “But it didn't taste bad at all, did it? And you didn't get sick, right?”

Yvonne whirled on her angrily and opened her mouth to say something, paused, then frowned but simmered down into a pout.

“No, I didn't get sick,” the flustered elf admitted reluctantly. “And... and I suppose it didn't taste bad. But still, he should've said something!”

Hazel sat up and yawned, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

“True, which is why I told Morwyn. You should learn from this, Eronir. Don't lie to your loved ones to spare their feelings. Everything will come out eventually, best to be honest up front.”

Embarrassed, Eronir inclined his head toward the halfling.

“Wise words, and duly noted. My apologies, Hazel.”

With a satisfied grin, Hazel hopped off her cot and gave him an exaggerated curtsy before climbing into the back of her wagon and rummaging around noisily.

“My pleasure. Now, I overheard you three loggerheads talking about a hunting trip. Monsters, danger, et cetera. I won't have you going out there alone without some potions.” Hazel peeked back out from the beneath the canvas with a double handful of glass vials. Their shimmering contents gleamed brilliantly in the light of early afternoon. “C'mon now, darling. We haven't got all day.”

Morwyn stepped forward and accepted the vials carefully, nothing several unfamiliar colors aside from the gold of the standard healing potions.

“Two healing potions each and a couple of antivenoms,” Hazel explained. “I've etched the glass on those to indicate what they treat.”

“I thought labels were considered cheating,” Morwyn teased, to which Hazel gave an indignant huff.

“Only when you're learning, dear. Seconds count when it's the real deal. Try not to get yourself into too much trouble out there, alright?” The halfling leaned out of the wagon and gave Morwyn a brief but tender kiss. Her lips were smooth and soft and fragrant despite the immutable dryness of their environment, and to her delight some of the soothing balm on them transferred to Morwyn's own. She gave Hazel a smile and a wink in return.

“No promises, but I'm sure Eronir will keep me in line.”

Their brief moment of intimacy was interrupted when Yvonne spoke up much louder than Morwyn deemed necessary.

“If you two are quite finished, I'd like to get moving. Unless you have some lip balm that Eronir and I can share as well?”

Color rose to Morwyn's cheeks before she drew her hood up to shroud her face. She shook her head and followed the two elves toward the front of the caravan, casting one last look back to Hazel over her shoulder. The halfling was already settled back down onto her cot and cooling her face with paper fan. Though clearly fatigued from the heat, she mustered the energy to wave goodbye and called out after the trio as they left.

“I hope you're cooking monster meat by the time we catch up! I'm developing a taste for it!”