PM to join Missing Memories and Crying Statues

[Tollivant Brennson]

The story slowly started to become more coherent: the missing trinkets from the campsite, the laughter he and Kesh had heard in the grass, the little clay man Salara and Oleander had seen, the nearby farmhouse. People had put two and two together, and the time had come for action. Tollivant felt his chest swell up with pride when he heard Karyk ask him and Kesh to go and investigate the farmhouse. That meant the big man trusted him; trusted him to carry out an important mission! It was a suitable task for the young scholar - the little statues would not pose much of a physical threat, and his natural friendliness and his experience of research would hopefully be helpful when trying to gain information and unravel what was going on.

But just as he was about to start heading back the way they had come, walking towards the farmhouse for a second time, a voice piped up. It was a Pycon, a dog-shaped one this time. Tollivant's excitement at seeing the statue was enormous. He had never seen a Pycon before; even better, he had not even known they could take animal forms. It was exactly the sort of discovery he had been hoping to be able to include in his guide to Mizahar. But his excitement was quickly overrun by what the dog said, which changed the situation dramatically. It was no longer just a case of some mischievous Pycons. Now there seemed to be a man involved, and presumably one of their own, because who else would be out here in the Wildlands alone? Suddenly the whole thing seemed more sinister. Who was the man, and why did nobody recognize his description? What had he been trying to achieve when he went to the farmhouse, and where had the young Pycons gone? There must be a connection between the appearance of the strange man, the disappearance of the youngsters, and the thefts in the campsite. It would be too much of a coincidence for all those things to happen on the same day and not be related. But what was the connection? Tollivant felt his head spinning.

He listened to Salara, who laid out the possibilities regarding the strange man's identity with welcome logic, but before he could reply with his own thought, the situation got even worse. Tollivant watched with mounting anxiety as a highly distressed woman stepped forward saying she had lost her daughter, who had been playing with a doll she did not have... that sounded like a Pycon to Tollivant. So had the little 'doll' tempted the girl away? If so why? His best guess right now was that she had been taken to the farmhouse, and even if she hadn't, they would surely find some information there that would help them figure what in the name of all that was logical was going on. It was time to investigate. He started walking purposefully back across the grass towards the farmhouse at the end of the valley, glancing hopefully at Kesh as he did so. It would all be a lot quicker and more enjoyable if he could get another ride on the big ape's back, but he didn't want to offend Kesh by asking him outright. It was the sort of thing that had to be offered, not demanded.

[Kesh Baldur]

Kesh nodded in agreement that it was the little creatures that had come into their camp. He then heard that Karyk wished he and Tollivant to head back to the farmhouse and investigate what was going on.

"I agree, Tollivant and I shall investigate the farmhouse and hopefully find something that can aid in this chaos." He said, but then heard a small voice come from below him. It was a small dog shaped Pycon, he listened to what it had to say about children being kidnapped. Then a woman interupted the discussion taking place, crying out that her child had been taken from her, that it had followed a missing doll, or as Kesh thought a pycon in a similar shape as the doll that lured the girl away. This was disturbing, what would want to take children from their families and what was this person or things end game.

"Miss, we will find your daughter, you have my word." Kesh said to the crying woman hoping that his words would be true and nothing had become of the girl. "Tollivant, we should be going." He said to the little man, but before they would leave Salara spoke of some of the men that were in their camp and might be tied to all of this. How could someone from our camp know of such things in this forest and be willing to steal children from the camp? We must be vigilant on our journey, I also hope the others aren't in danger of being taken as well. He thought to himself.

"We will keep that in mind Salara, and keep our eyes open on our way, let us just hope that the goddess blesses us and we unravel this mystery and save our convoy from destruction by it's own people." He said.

He saw Tollivant look at him as if he wanted another ride, he thought about it and then gave a nod as he grabbed the human from where he was standing and placed him on his back.

"Alright Tollivant, let us go, with you on my back you will be able to observe the area around us and look for anything suspicious as well as getting there faster. If you need me to stop just say so." He said as he and Tollivant then made their way out to the woods again in search of the farmhouse.

[Oleander Soleran]

Oleander

Advisor Skorin caught the group by surprise. With their small, adjustable shapes, Pycons had an uncanny talent for stealthy approaches. Unlike the clay creatures Salara and he had stumbled across earlier, this one showed no interest in petty jokes or quick escapes, though. Its voice, however tiny, was grave with worry, and understandably so. Skorin spoke of missing children, and Oleander could understand the concern. Hortense had gone missing in the bazaar once when they were younger, and Oleander had been at least as worried as his father. Rendan had alerted multiple guards before they had found his sister between the beautiful dresses and unaffordable fabric a dark-skinned woman had been selling. Losing track of someone so close, even just for the shortest moment, had made his stomach turn and his heart race in fear. Children going missing for several bells must be an awful experience.

He listened to Garresh’s description with a mixture of sympathy and concentration. A limp, sore legs… Sometimes members of the caravan approached him for advice or herbs. Most of the time, he knew which plants might help, but had to experiment on how to apply them; his knowledge only reached so far. Still, he knew more than most did, and following the occasional success, they kept asking him between servings of stew.

Salara had followed the same train of thoughts and asked him if he had seen someone fitting the description. Black hair was all too common, however, to make it a safe criterion. Many members of the caravan rode, even those who were not used to riding. Even Oleander himself was sore from his time on a mule’s back. A scout was the most likely choice, of course. Only a scout could manage to go undetected and alone and have a few small pycons vanish before the bulk of the caravan arrived. Salara, however, knew the other scouts and did not recognize a man fitting the description and name. Oleander trusted her memory as much as he trusted her honesty.

A commoner, then? One with a horse, or any other means of riding, the only explanation for worn thighs and bow legs he could think of. A thought struck him. “Don’t just think of people with a horses. I share with Hortense and I doubt ours is the only family who can’t afford two mounts. Even if he’s ridden before, he might not be riding now.”

He had spoken to multiple sore-legged men with dark hair over the course of the last few days, and while he could not always remember everyone’s names, he was fairly certain “Garresh” was one he had never heard before. “Perhaps that’s not his true name, either.”, he thought aloud. “If you run into someone smelling of sticklewort, that’s what I’ve given to sore people.” It worked nicely in a poultice. He had also used clay-infused earth to keep the spots cool and painless, but everyone in the caravan smelled of clay. Especially people who abducted pycons.

“Are we certain it was ‘Garresh’ who abducted the children? I agree that the man sounds suspicious, but it could have been someone else. He could have told someone where he found the pycons. Maybe their disappearance is not connected to our caravan at all.” He turned to the clay dog. “Is this the first time your little ones have escaped those entrusted with the task of watching them? We ran across small pycons earlier, and they struck as as the mischievous sort.”

A woman stumbled into their circle and her wail interrupted whatever else he might have said. If human children were missing, the situation concerned everyone. Salara caught the lady in her arms and Kesh spoke some words that, Oleander hoped, wold not miss their goal, coming from a large hairy fellow, but Raven’s mother hardly seemed at ease. Sob-shaken, she clung to Salara like a drowning man would to a piece of driftwood. The young man briefly considered offering her a tea of lavender and thyme, both of which he carried in his pouch, but second-guessed himself. She was not interested in easing her mind, she was interested in finding her daughter. In the search for a lost child, a mother’s instinct and heightened altertness might prove useful. “Where did you last see your daughter?”, he encouraged the woman.

“Perhaps we should split,” he then suggested, turning towards Karyk as their chosen leader. “Some of us investigate the barn, some return to where Raven vanished and see if we can find traces of her.”

[Karyk]

Advisor Skorrin nodded and bowed at Salara's well thought out words and plan. "There are many abandoned badger tunnels around these parts that the children use for play. I will look into them myself, since I doubt you have any Pycons or anyone else small enough for such a task. I pray this is just one big misunderstanding or a simple misreading of the signs of Harameus. If you find the children, simply say my name, they should stop and follow your direction." And that was when the woman appeared, hysterical about her missing child, a child known as Raven. Karyk's eyes grew wide. He knew this woman and her child. They were all that was left of a broken family. The woman's husband and son had both died in an accident at the shipyard, where a mast with a hidden fault inside of it snapped in a stiff wind and crushed them and others. All she had left was her daughter, a young girl of nine years that had a talent for song and dance. She was the epitome of grace and poise, a truly gentle soul, a kind girl who knew no malice. Karyk watched Salara intervene, stopping the woman from flinging herself at the Pycon. As the pair talk, Karyk looked down at the Advisor, "Get goin'. If we find 'em, we'll bring 'em to the farmhouse. If ya find any of the missing things, bring them to us. Get outta 'ere." Knuckles gripped white, Karyk caught Salara's eye, his own filled with a slow growing anger, "Ya bet your ass its one of 'em. Who else? The guards guard us. But who guards the guards?" Karyk didn't bother to stick around, his temper riled. He was not a man of thought, he was a man of action. And he knew which cart belonged to Raven and her mother. He left the group gruffly. He was tired of all the talk. He needed to do something. Anything. So as Tollivant and Kesh left for the farmhouse, Karyk made his way through the caravan's camps. He was aggravated, he was mad that this happened on his watch, by someone in his group, most likely. It didn't take long to reach Raven and her mother's campsite. The place was a mess, it was clear that her mother tore the tents apart and such looking for the girl. Karyk saw Archold, a drunkard and former sailor sitting around the fire. Karyk stomped over, kicking the man's mug from the rock in front of him, the ale splashing about. "Archol', what did ya see 'ere? An' don't gimme that drunken shyke that spews from your mouth." The man flung his hands up at the wasted ale, "Ya coulda jus' asked nicely Karyk. Laviku wouldn't want me to waste good ale." Karyk sneered down at the man, who did his best to not slur his words, "'ey, easy big guy. The lass was playin' wit' some weird squirrel thing. Had ol' Marta's necklace round its neck. It seemed to like the young lass. The lass gave it her mum's fancy whale bone comb. It thanked her, said the man had lots of gold to trade for the trinkets. But when it left, the lass followed," the man pointed into the woods. Karyk roared, "An' ya didn't think to mention tha' to anyone before?!" He reached down, grabbing a thick stick that was flaming on one end. He had no experience in tracking the tiny squirrel prints in the dirt, in the dark, but he wasn't trying to track the squirrel. He was going to stomp in this direction until he'd found something, anything. Karyk pushed through the foliage, with no intention of stopping or slowing down. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ At the farmhouse, it seemed that many of the Pycon children had returned. There were scores of Pycons, adult and children all around the farmhouse, relieved and exuberant to be reunited. All but one, a winged humanoid by the name of Joaja was worried, frantic, for her child had never returned. Her child, the squirrel by the name of Dolly. The other children seemed confused and agitated. They didn't think any wrong had been done. They spoke of how the man said he'd pay them to play a prank on his friends in the caravan. To bring him trinkets of value from his friends, for a big laugh. Except he'd never paid up, kicked and hit them until they ran off. One of them, a bird of some type, had managed to steal the man's knife from his boot. It had the name 'Darfolt' carved into it. Darfolt was a name some members of the caravan would know. He was a known gambler and thug, but had stayed out of sight and out of mine, for he was a rear scout. He guarded the tail of the caravan, often forgotten, left in the back. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Darfolt glared down at the squirrel Pycon named Dolly, having yanked the necklace from her, "Why did you bring her?!" he yelled, pointing at Raven, hands and ankles tied up, laying in the dirt sobbing into a bandana. The little squirrel flinched in fear, "I-I-I-I didn't know..." He stomped around his campsite, hidden in the woods away from the caravan, "She's seen my face! Knows who I am! It didn't matter that you little monsters saw me, we would be on our way after you got these for me! But you! You ruined everything!" He stomped forward and kicked the little squirrel. She flew over the fire and hit a tree hard, falling to the roots below. She moved a bit more, before seeming to faint. The man shook his head, "This was supposed to be easy money... But I can't let them go..." He reached for his boot knife and failed to find it. He swore, immediately suspecting one of the Pycons for having stolen it. His anger grew. Stomping over to the Pycon he looked down at the pale brown body, glowing by firelight. "All your fault." Boot raised up, he brought it crashing down on her body. Over and over and over, until she was barely distinguishable from the dirt. Raven was wriggling hard to try and get free, having just seen her friend killed. Darfolt moved over to the girl and kicked her in the ribs, rolling her onto her back. She groaned and coughed blood into the bandana. "Your friends took my knife, so this won't be quick for you. But that's what curious little girls get." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Karyk saw the fire up ahead, and forged his way through, bursting through the tree line of the campsite. But there was no man there, no Pycons. Most of the belongings were gone, only the tent and a fire that still burned. Then he saw her, just on the other side of the flickering flames. His heart fell to the ground alongside the torch he'd carried, and he felt the world go silent as he rushed over to her. Raven was there, hands and feet still tied together, her face unrecognizable through the blood and bruises and broken bones from a horrendous beating. He could see arms and fingers were broken as well. Whoever had done this was truly a monster. Karyk felt at the girl's chest, hoping, praying to hear a heartbeat. He found none. Lowering his ear to her battered face, he tried to hear for a breath. He heard none. Raven was dead. Karyk scooped the young girl's body up in his arms, tears already filling his deep brown eyes. She was so small, so light. He started back through the dark woods, following the direction he'd come, each step heavier than the last, him dreading his arrival with each one. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Darfolt slipped back into the camp, joining in on the edge of the Solerans' campsite. His bruised and bloodied hands were covered by gloves now, and he approached Hortense, and feigned worry in his voice, "What's going on? I heard the commotion when I got back from securing the perimeter."

[Salara Kel'Halavath]

Salara continued trying to calm the grieving woman as everyone pitched in their thoughts and efforts to help. Leading Raven’s mother to a bench, she sits beside her and begins to gently rub circles across the woman’s back as she listens to her explain that she’d last seen Raven at the edge of their personal camp. Oleander’s logical suggestions of other possibilities interested her greatly. She had learned in Fallon’s class on investigating crime scenes that smells like alcohol or body odor were another type of evidence. Noting medicinal smells used to treat an unknown subject might provide valuable clues or something that could be asked of potential witnesses. “Please do take care,” she called out to Tollivant and Kesh as they galloped away. If anyone could encourage these Pycon to turn over the stolen items without aggression she was sure it was those two. The quiet unease continued to build in her guts at the thought of anyone; particularly a guard, being implicated in this horrible situation and she watched Karyk grow more and more upset. It wasn’t as if there was enough danger to them all outside of their group, but to have a monster living among them as well? Every trouble with the caravan weighted heavily upon his shoulders as he felt it was his full responsibility to bring them all through safely. She understood exactly how he felt as she often felt the same herself and met his eye with a solid nod of unspoken support. Would that she could go with him to investigate the camp and track the culprit, but she knew this time her duty was here with Raven’s mother. Leaning close and speaking calmly to the distraught woman hoping to at least ease her sobbing, “We will do all we can to find out what has happened and make whoever has done this pay dearly.” She wouldn’t give any false promises so did not offer any. “Tell me, dearest, what is your name?” Raven’s mother snuffled into a rag and hiccupped her answer, “Kaitibry.” Pleading tear-welled eyes lifted to hers, “Raven’s all I’ve got left in this world. I’ve lost my man, my boy, my home and now…” She wailed, “I…I’ve… lost HER too!” Salara drew the woman’s head against her shoulder to begin rocking them both while crooning illegibly just under her breath. At a loss at what more she could do she speaks over Kaitibry’s shoulder to the caravan’s only healer, “Oleander, is there anything we can give her that might be soothing? If only just some fresh water?” Time seemed to drag forever as the woman eventually calmed, her body and mind too exhausted to keep hysterics up for long. Her mewling cries came in fits and starts and occasionally she would still for long moments only to begin softly weeping again. Steadfast, Salara continued to comfort and support her all the while keeping an eye out for Hortense who would surely be better at this than she. Motion across the field draws her keen-eyed attention before anyone else notices. Hope then dread in equal measure wells within her to see the limp form hugged tightly to the big man’s chest. She could not see his expression from the distance but his steps were ponderously slow. She grunts softly to alert Oleander, tipping her head in Karyk’s direction, hoping he would go see if there was any care that could be given before the young mother became aware of their approach.

[Tollivant Brennson]

On first sight, the farmhouse was completely abandoned. The roof was missing so many tiles it looked like a toothless mouth, and there were high grasses growing right up against the walls. But as Tollivant approached, having jumped down from a second ride on Kesh's back - this time the excitement had been tempered by worry about the events at the campsite - he could see that there was a tiny path through the grass. It wasn't big enough for a human-sized being to walk along, but it would be just the right size for the dog pycon they had met at the camp. He felt bad for a moment at having to trample the path down, but there was no other way in. His big feet squashed the grass as he forged a route through the swaying fronds until he was outside the door.

It was shut, with no obvious way of opening it, but before he could reach out and push it a little grey head appeared from a crack in the wall next to the door. 'What do you want?' it said. Tollivant jumped in fright at the unexpected sound, and took a step back. He stumbled over a stone hidden in the grass and only just managed to get his staff onto the ground to steady him in time, his other arm cartwheeling madly around his head to try and keep his balance. He could hear muttering from the crack where the little figure was now peering out at him curiously. But even if the red-hatted scholar did not look like a threat, Kesh's looming black silhouette was probably not far behind, and the pycons were not letting down their guard down just yet.

Tollivant cleared his throat, trying to regain his dignity. 'My name is Tollivant Brennson, and this is my friend Kesh. We're with the caravan just over there beyond the forest. Would you mind if we...'

'We don't want any more trouble from your lot today, thank you very much,' came the sharp retort. The little head withdrew back into its crack. Tollivant hesitated, but then pulled himself upright. He had read tales of explorers surviving attacks by groups of hostile Myrians or packs of wolves, and if they could survive that then he ought to be able to manage these little clay people. 'We're not here to cause you trouble,' he said. 'We have heard from Advisor Skorin about the man called Garresh, how he wanted money and treasures and how some of your young went missing after he had gone. We're here to tell you that we have also lost valuables, and children, and that we think he had something to do with it. As far as we know he's not one of our own, but we are a large caravan, so we can't be sure. If we work together, we can find out what happened and where our children are. Please?'

The little head appeared again, just peeking out of the edge of the crack. It considered the unlikely pair of the gangly scholar and the bulky Jamora for a while, and then seemed to make up its mind. There was a creaking noise, and the farmhouse door slowly opened. Through the growing gap Tollivant could see a network of ropes and pulleys hanging from the ceiling and looping around hooks in the door. A neat row of pycons were straining on a rope to the rhythm of a clay woman standing in front of them and calling 'heave, ho! Heave, ho!' Tollivant was mesmerised by the ingenuity of the system. Just because these pycons were small, they were certainly not lacking in intelligence or initiative. He was about to take a step forward into the farmhouse to investigate more closely, but a voice held him back. 'Please, we prefer that only our own kind enter our dwelling. Wait there.' Tollivant glanced at Kesh, who probably wouldn't have fitted through the door anyway, and nodded. A little party of pycons walked out of the farmhouse, and gathered in a circle around Tollivant and Kesh. The scholar knelt down so he could talk to them more easily.

'Thank you for talking to us,' he started. 'We are looking for many trinkets, and a child called Raven. We would be grateful for any information you could give us about them.'

'We know where your trinkets are,' a grey man in a clay cloak said. He had the air of being the leader of the little group. 'I apologise for the thefts, which were a misunderstanding. Our children have now returned...' he was interrupted by an anguished shout from the wall of the farmhouse. Tollivant looked up to see that the wall was covered in little watching faces peering out of a myriad cracks. The pycon man continued. 'All our children except one have now returned. The story they've told us has cleared up most of what happened. This Garresh told them he wanted to play a prank on his friends, and that they should steal little valuable items and bring them to him. Unfortunately when the naive young ones did as he asked, he took the trinkets from them without giving the promised reward. He was quite rough with many of them, I'm sorry to say. If the man is still where he was, the trinkets are in a clearing in the wood, not far that way.' He pointed with the dry reed he was using as a staff. 'As for your child, that is something we know nothing about. And now, can you help us? Have any of you seen a child of our kind, a squirrel called Dolly?'

Tollivant shook his head apologetically. 'No, the only one of your kind we've seen is Advisor Skorin.' The pycon looked crestfallen. 'I'm sorry we can't help you,' Tollivant said, 'but we are very grateful for the information about Garresh, and we will be sure to tell you as soon as we find out anything about the squirrel.' For some reason the name 'Dolly' seemed familiar, but he was sure there was nobody in the caravan called Dolly, and he couldn't think where else he might have heard it.

He turned to Kesh. 'We should go to the clearing in the wood, see if the trinkets are there, maybe even Garresh,' he said. He cast one last regretful glance inside the farmhouse he was not allowed to explore, and then prepared to head towards the woods. Before they could leave, however, another voice called out from the wall. 'Wait, don't forget this,' it said. Tollivant turned around to see a little clay bear hurrying out of the farmhouse, a dagger held awkwardly between its paws and resting over its shoulder, causing it to sway alarmingly as it walked. 'One of our kids snaffled it from that bastard Garresh. We have no use for it, and maybe it'll give you a clue about where he came from. Is Darfolt the name of a swordsmith in your country?'

[Kesh Baldur]

Kesh followed after Tollivant as they reached the farm, it's wood told a great tale of time. The things it had witnessed intruiged him and he hoped that he could explore inside with the human. But when Tollivant got near the entrance he was met with more pycons. He felt that they meant no real harm from their experience with the one back at the camp.

He listened and kept a watchful eye out back into the woods, What could Garresh be up to if he's stealing from his own camp? Usually that means he is a thief or that he is desperate to start a new life? Has he made a deal with someone else from a nearby city for safe passage to somewhere? If only we had him, we could find out and end this. He thought to himself as Tollivant talked to the pycons who had now opened the door to him but did not allow him in, then began to leave the house and circled them.

"I'm glad to hear that your children are back, but unfortunately what we came for is still eluding us, the one that is responsible is still out there. And the more desperate be becomes the more of chance he comes back to use your kids again, for worse than just little thieves. Tollivant I agree we need to get to that clearing and hope we find that Garresh is hiding there." He said to Tollivant and the others that were around him. "The one child's name is Dolly correct, and in the shape of a squirrel, we will make sure to keep that in mind."

"Thank you. Be safe out there." a pycon in the shape of a cat said, and one even gave Tollivant a dagger.

When they were a distance away from the pycons he spoke to Tollivant quietly. "There is a chance that this man has taken those two kids hostage in case we or the pycons came after him so we need to prepare for the event that what I say is true. I will need you to be the one to act, even though that is not normally what you do, I am too big to move silently and he will notice me. This works in our favour as he might not see you if we split before the clearing." He explained as the plan came together and he hoped he had the courage to do so. "If your not comfortable with it you can let me know, if there was any other way I would gladly be open to hear it, now what can you tell me about that dagger, it mentioned the name Darlfort? That name rings familiar to me, wasn't their someone on the camp with that name?" Kesh asked as they made there way to the clearing.

[Oleander Soleran]

Oleander

Salara was trying to help Kaitibry, but the woman was to pained, too full of fear, to truly hear her or feel her intention. The Kelvic turned to Oleander for help, ultimately. “I can brew a tea, but I’m not sure it would be strong enough. My herbs are not fresh, and it’s a tea that usually helps when you’re a little restless or had a nightmare and can’t fall asleep again… Not if you’re truly agitated.” He had heard of stronger combinations that apothecaries mixes to lighten emotions and drugs that had a similar effect, but had never actually seen either be used, did not even recall their names. These thoughts became obsolete when Karyk returned.

He was crying.

A child was curled into his arms, a flash of black hair, limp and lifeless, but he held it like it was the most fragile treasure. The sight made Oleander’s chest feel tight, it wrung the breath from his lungs, threatening to choke him. He thought of all the reasons why people had begun this journey, joined this caravan. Kaitibry and Raven – were they visiting family? Fleeing from an abusive husband and father? Was there a past they needed to forget, or did they simply long for a fresh start, as the Solerans had when they came to Zeltiva?

Kaitibry looked up. This was a moment she would never forget. The circle of people that had assembled fell silent and all eyes were on her, cautious, trembling, awaiting her reaction.

A mother’s heart never shattered silently. Hers did with a wail, transferring from her core to her vocal chords, a bone-stirring, unbearable sound, loud and long and broken. It pierced the quiet and stretched the moment. Kaitibry tore free from Salara as if she was not there, stumbled across the space separating them, and did not hesitate as she pulled Raven from Karyk’s arms. The world was reduced to the two of them, mother and child, united for one last time. Kaitibry collapsed to the ground, uselessly shielding her daughter’s body with her own, wishing for the spark of warmth that Raven had possessed only bells ago, wishing to wake from a nightmare. But she did not sleep and could not wake, and so her cry crumbled into ugly sobs when she buried her face in Raven’s hair, refusing to look at her daughter’s too-young face.

- - -

Hortense had failed to notice the commotion at first. When Oleander went fishing, she had taken her needles and yarn and found a quiet spot behind the tent to patch up their second set of clothes. Their pants were not made to chafe against a saddle all day and wore thin faster than she could say “Eloise”. Only when the calls spread through camp did she stow away her utensils and helped search for a young girl’s heirloom – a necklace with a pearl set in silver, her grandmother’s engagement gift, and way too expensive a piece of jewellery to display openly in a caravan of poor, starving strangers. As far as Hortense was concerned, this particular search had never had much hope of success to begin with, but she helped anyways, if only to uphold her reputation as a nice, helpful, friendly young woman. You never knew when you might need a friendly reference.

Curiously, they stumbled across more people missing valuables as they widened the circles they were searching in. So there was a thief amongst them, and he had landed a caravan-wide coup, wonderful. She quickly excused herself from the group and returned to the Solerans’ belongings, where she checked what little valuables they did not carry on their bodies. Everything was where it was supposed to be. Hortense breathed a sigh of relief and decided to find Oleander, but before she could leave, a man approached her. Black hair, functional leather clothes, the dirt of the road painted all over. He was not remarkable at all. Hortense was good with names, but she struggled for his. “Some things have gone missing, it seems”, she said as she scanned his face, trying to remember… Something that started with a ‘B’? “But maybe there’s more. I think some people have gathered -” She snapped out of her thoughts. “Sorry, what was your name again?"

[Karyk]

Blurry eyes looked out over the camp site, each person's form just a wraith to the wisp of a man that carried the young girl's body. He could make out Salara's form, unsure of how he knew. There was something primal in her stance, yet with that caring grace as she moved, a head nod perhaps? He couldn't quite tell who was who of the other blurs, but footstep after heavy footstep fell. The broken-hearted shipwright's soul tore like a sail under Zulrav's wrath as Raven's mother wailed. Her screams permeated Karyk's very being, so that his world became that sound, and the unfair rhythm that came from his heart. Karyk could see the banshee rushing toward him, felt the broken girl ripped from his arms, and with her, the last of his resolve. The leader of the caravan dropped to his knees, hunched at the waist, holding himself on one shaking arm as the tears flowed hotly and freely, staining the ground that seemed barely able to hold up the man. Karyk's whole world in that moment was the sounds of Kaitiby sobbing, and the salty sting of his own tears. He was a man broken. There was no leader left in this man. Only the failure. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The campsite in which Karyk had recovered Raven from was fairly empty, as Darfolt had taken anything that belonged to him when he'd fled, leaving only the same obscure tent everyone seemed to own, made from the canvas that powered Zeltivan ships. The fire still burned healthily, illuminating the whole of the campsite. The camp the man had chosen was near a creek, the very same one Oleander had fished at, but further down. The ground was a bit more damp, not enough for mud, but certainly enough for impressions to take place. There were three sets of boot prints around the sit. One set was large, with rounded toes, and wasn't terribly frequent. The prints could be seen entering from the wood, walking to a single, smoothed point, then turning back. Another set was pointed, and a bit smaller, and covered most of the ground in the camp site. One particular spot near a tree showed extremely deep impressions, with a bit of mud that didn't stick to the dirt around it, and was of a differing shade. Finally, there was a tiny set, rounded, small, that had entered the campsite from the woods, but hadn't stepped anywhere else. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Darfolt's eyes grew wider at the news that Hortense passed onto him, "Missing? Maybe they dropped while we traveled. I was at the back of the caravan, wasn't uncommon to see trash dropped." When she asked for his name, he flashed a bright smile. He knew it was his greatest asset, it was broad smile, with straight teeth, no scars upon his lips or face. Many a lass in Zeltiva had fallen for his smile, and it was well practiced. "Apologies miss, I am Barton, one of the many scouts that watch over you and the rest of this caravan. Though I must say, it is much nicer to see the beauty I'd seen from afar so close. It has only improved your elegance. A pleasure." Maybe it was laid on a bit thick, but this woman looked like an easy get to him. Perhaps if he could get her to take him back to her tent, not only could he petch her good, but it would give him some cover while these rubes assumed that the man they looked for had fled into the night. No one would think that he'd rejoin the caravan after all. "Was anything of yours missing? I could help you look if you'd like. I haven't had the chance to check on my own gear. We could check yours, then mine, make sure everything is in order? Make sure you are personally safe and secure." He offered a single gloved hand to Hortense, with his devilish smile. She couldn't see it, but there was an eating knife in the waist of his trousers at his back, one of the spoils brought to him. "What say you?"

[Salara Kel'Halavath]

Death held a different perspective for the predatory Kelvic. It could be so very unfair but it was part of a natural cycle. So as tragic as it all was she breathed easier to see the inconsolable woman grieving over her young daughter’s body, quickly surrounded by sympathetic support from the caravan’s womenfolk. She'd done the best she could, but ultimately Salara didn’t understand motherhood from any aspect and being a creature of action she was more suited to avenging than consoling. Besides, her care lay in a different direction. To her, Karyk’s guilt-laden grief felt equally heart wrenching – something she could better understand. They hadn’t had much contact since departing Zeltiva but she wondered about him often. Worried, just like everyone else, to see him taking more than his share of the burdens through this migration. Would that she had the words or even a little time; but truth was that now was not the time. The hue and cry was out and if the murderer were still in the area they had less time with each passing tick to locate him before he disappeared or worse. Tick Approaching him more slowly through the wake of Kaitibry’s wailing, Salara curses under her breath for not having gone with him to see the crime scene. It wasn’t likely she’d get a chance to examine the body any time soon either. Perhaps she could follow Karyk’s trail back to see for herself what evidence might remain? To use what ever little investigation experience she had to help get the rabid coward who would do such a thing. She wished she could offer some comfort or leave him to his grief as he surely wished; but instead Salara pushes sympathy into the background, forcing her arms back from pulling him into an embrace. A hand hovers over his heaving shoulders for a Tick before settling firmly on his back. Her tone gentle but insistent, “Karyk, the time to grieve is later. The monster that did this is still out there.” She wasn’t certain if he could even hear her over the sound of his heart breaking so fingers climb to his shoulder for a firm shake. “If he is still around he’ll know she’s been found.” Tick The first spark of anger creeps into her words, “If he can do this to a child who knows what he could do to someone else while trying to get away. I know you don’t want to think about it, but back there? Was there any clue who did this? Was it this Garresh? Did you see the Pycon child?” She had so many questions but pounding them at him in this state wouldn't help. Squatting by his side she starts with understanding, “Karyk, we’ve all been betrayed. Someone we trusted, one of our own, made fools of us all. There is no way you could have kept this from happening. You are not alone in this. It isn’t your fault.” Then fierceness rears into her voice, “Come! Hunt with me. We will catch this black-souled petcher. I swear it." And finishes as a growl through clenched teeth, "Then you can do whatever you want with him.” Tick The menfolk had not been lax while the women of the caravan embraced Kaitibry's grief and began guiding her and Raven to a covered wagon where the mother might have more privacy. Initial shouts of outrage and anguish had settled into a steady grumble rolling across the camp as groups of men gestured angrily as they strapped on weapons and spoke creatively of ways they would make the murderous petch pay. None she could hear made any suggestions on how to find him first. The last thing they needed was a misguided lynch mob. *word count = 4122