Grass, Blood, and New Beginnings.[Merenwen, Ronan Windsong]

[Merenwen]

With a short hiss she wrinkled her nose. Indeed, she was caught in a stalemate. It would be against her personal customs not to return dealt respect. It was her way of equivalent exchange. She looked to the blushing man as she sauntered her way towards the man with the cloak.

"Yes, indeed, my hunt. I believe that was the word to part my lips. It has been days since my last satisfying meal, and this caravan appears to lack that which sates me." She half heartedly took the cloak and whipped it around her shoulders. It swamped her petite body. She cut her eyes to this generous man.

"And you..." She surveyed him quickly. "Fear not my eyes, nor the curve of my body, for my teeth make a far more dangerous adversary, I assure you." There was a glint of ivory as she let out a long yawn, glancing towards the caravan. She lazily looked back at the man and asked, "A child, you say?"

[Ronan]

Ronan was overwhelmed. He'd set out to find out Matthial's purpose, and now he was hearing of slavers, of pilgrims and missing children. And then there was the naked Kelvic. The beautiful, naked Kelvic. He began to blush again. Matthial was a genuine kind of guy. Ronan had picked that up about him quickly. No matter how annoyed he had gotten him, he had fallen on his humble knees and smoothed over the cracks. In a different world, or a different life, Ronan wondered if he could have become good friends with someone like Matthial. Don't ever let anyone close... they only hurt you that way. There was something so nonchalant about the Kelvic. She sauntered towards Matthial, grabbing the cloak to cover her modesty. It seemed she had no idea how she came across to a human. Ronan stood and listened as she pried into Matthial's hunt.

[Matthial]

Matthial scratched at his goatee for a second, obviously going over the details in his head. "Hmm.. yes. I was drinking, when a father told me a sad story. He had been sent into town by his wife to look for their child. They where travelling pilgrims, and during the night, the boy made a friend from a nearby tent. He showed me a sketching of the boy, and said that he couldn't find the child anywhere. I told him to talk to the local watch, and then checked most of the obvious places. Now... a long time ago, I was in Ravok, and ran into a thief who used children to attract other children and led them to slavers for a percentage of the sell price. I think the same thing happened here. With the watch looking over Endrykas, I asked around and found that three caravans had left. This one seems the most likey to be slavers, as they have the most guards and large wagons." Pausing, the man straightened out the white surcoat he wore over his chainmail. Then he looked at the Kelvic once more and raised an eyebrow. "Ma'am... or.. huntress, do you have a name? My name is Matthial, and I will let my companion introduce himself." With this said, the wanderer drew out a canteen that had been hanging near his belt. Unscrewing the top, he raised the water source to the sky and leaned back, taking a long pull.

[Merenwen]

There was a moment of silence as she contemplated and sifted through Matthial's story. Interesting enough, indeed. She wondered what his plight was. Why was he determined to find this child? She snorted lightly at the thought of poor parenting. For the first time since she'd laid eyes on the men, her expression softened as she thought of how she would feel if her children were stolen from her. She caught herself, though, and smoothed her face back over, allowing her head to lull to the side. Again, she weighed her options and pondered Matthial's quest. What a strange duo she had encountered.

"Merenwen," was her one word answer. She turned her gaze to the unnamed man, scrutinizing him, though in a more gentle way than she had Matthial. This had been the blushing man who quickly turned his gaze opposite of her when he saw her form. A polite gesture? Or was it to be expected. Matthial had appeared to be a little more bold. She could sense he had centered his gaze carefully on her face, avoiding her eyes and all that which lay below the curve that was her neck. Bold was the only word she could pin on his reaction. She decided she had not the liberty to judge either of them.

It was at this moment she decided the difference between the men. One bold, and the other... Polite? Embarrassed? If she had been in her opposite form, her tail (or the lack thereof) would have twitched. She took a long, smooth step towards him, moving swiftly but quietly. She circled around him, and when she came back into his view, she purposefully let Matthial's cloak slide off the tips of her shoulders and brushed past him.

"Is your friend shy, Matthial?" She had set her mind on giving this man a hard time, just for the sake of seeing if he would break under her pressure. "He seems far from ease..." Her ivory teeth shone between her smirking lips.

[Ronan]

Ronan didn't know where to look as Merenwen circled him - a sultry, slow walk, designed to make him uncomfortable. Heat burned fiercely inside him as she began to let the cloak slide down her shoulders. I'm not damn shy! But it's been too long since I've laid with a woman... And here's a woman with beast in her blood. Even after Khiara, I can't help but feel... uncomfortable. He finally stood up straight, determined to throw her assumptions back in her face. "I'm Ronan Windsong," he said, nodding towards her, "and I'm not your prey, so would you kindly stop circling me like a vulture?" He was just beginning to loosen up, when he saw something in the corner of his eyes. There was movement from afar, near the caravans. He didn't know what made him move, but he lunged forward, shoving Merenwen and Matthial down to the ground with him. There was a whistle of wind, and then several bolts flew above them, narrowly avoiding their targets. "Matthial - we're being shot at. If that isn't evidence enough for their treachery, then they wouldn't be trying to silence us!" His heart raced, adrenaline cycling his body. "Oh... and it looks like I saved your life again."

[Matthial]

For his part Matthial blinked at the creature's strange behavior. He didn't intervene or say anything. He simply watched. He knew little of kelvics, and what little he'd been taught had been in a Syliran classroom. Apparently they had been created to serve as slaves? This one hadn't been to the same classes he had. Matthial was just beginning to enter memory lane (and a fine little school maid he remembered from that very same class.) when something whistled... and then the young man found himself on the ground. It took a moment for things to digest. "It does look that way doesn't it? Although, a lesser man man insert some innuendo here about you two needing a moment." Pulling Ronan's arm off him, he gave a wicked grin to the other two laying on the ground. Hunkering down, the man quickly grabbed his pack and slid it around to his chest. A battered shield was strapped to the top, and in a moment it found its way on to his arm. He then stuffed the discarded cloak into his pack while turning to Ronan. "I'm no tracker, but I say we split up. Hit anyone who stands in your way, but try not to attract the main force. We can't take 'em all. I remember a gully not to far from here. A dead log marks it. We meet up there, its a ways back." He turned to Merenwen just in time to see another bolt fly over head. "This ain't your fight. Now, go on, shoo." He made vague shooing motions right before he dove off into the tall grass.

[Merenwen]

Merenwen was just before making a rebuttal to Ronan's vulture comment when she found her face in the dirt. Anger inflated her chest like a surging flame, and being immediately told to scram, or "shoo," as Matthial had put it, only poured oil onto this flame. Again, she was too late to retort, as Matthial disappeared into the grass before them. She turned her anger back to Ronan.

"You!" She shoved him over and pushed herself up onto hands and knees. "How dare you tackle me, volley or no volley of arrows!" Her chest rumbled with a growl as she continued, "Look at this nonsense! Why are we being shot at, anyway?!"

She began to crawl forward through the grass, but stopped at looked back at Ronan. There was a pang of guilt in her chest as she noted that he had probably saved her from a pierced chest, or worse. She huffed and peeked over the grass.

[Ronan]

Matthial gave his orders like some city dwelling general type, and then rushed off, crouching with his shield. Ronan had no such equipment on him, but his small bag of possessions and his brothers dagger. All of a sudden Merenwen pushed him, cursing and raging, before heading off in her own direction. Ronan found himself rolling, and pressing up with his hands to try and rise again. A bolt whistled over him again. Another volley of arrows headed his way. Duck and roll! Keep moving! He rushed forward, tumbling. His hunter instincts kicked in, and he hazarded a glimpse of his attackers. There were three men aiming bows, surrounding the caravan like a pallisade. Was Matthial's 'child' in there? Were these the slavers? Suddenly another arrow was flung his way. "Bastards!" he shouted, rushing towards the gully Matthial had mentioned. He couldn't see Merenwen, but then his field of vision was limited what with all the tumbling about. One thing was clear in this chaos - the attackers wanted them dead.

[Matthial]

For his part, Matthial hadn't been entirely honest with the other two. In fact, he was fairly certain he was running the opposite way of the gully, towards the caravan. Keeping low to the ground, he tried his best to keep the sun from glinting off the chain covering his body, and trying not to make too much noise. The archers seemed to be firing at regular intervals. A practiced, and trained action that spoke of experienced fighters. Giving them a wide berth, the young man crouch-ran as best he could. However, the heat, weight of his pack, and bad positioning quickly wore Matthial down. Pausing, and panting, he took stock of the situation while eyeing his adversaries. Simply put, while they kept firing, he noticed they hadn't gotten too far from the last wagon in the convoy. It was several minutes before they paused, looked back to the caravan, and turned back. Still crouched, Matthial pondered his options. He would need to give the caravan several hours head start with the way things where going. They where quite jumpy, but not enough to send anyone out to hunt him down. After all, he was just one man, and they had a schedule to keep. Rising to his feet, the wanderer sheathed his sword and noted the caravan was almost out of sight. It was a good ten minutes of walking before he finally arrived at the gully in question. Pushing his way through the last of the tall grass the man looked behind him as he spoke. He wasn't entirely sure they would be there, and in truth he hoped they hadn't come to the rendezvous. "Looks like we might have to give wide-berth to that caravan. They are a mite bit jumpy after I spoke with the leader. I don't think they will give chase."

[Merenwen]

Merenwen crawled through the grass, occasionally peeking above it's ceiling to check her position. She caught site of rustling grass ahead of her, and pursued. She had not quite made twenty paces before she stopped and wondered why exactly she was following the order to meet at this gully. It had been long poked into her brain that she was an unusual sort. Despite the natural push to serve and protect like the rest of her race, she grew tired of hearing stories about her people becoming slaves. This was not a future she looked to fulfill.

She paused in the grass, inspecting the dirt under her jagged nails. Why was she feeling the inclination to meet Ronan and Matthial at the gully? She placed the blame on her own lack of social skills. There was no telling how long it had been since she had been around her own people, or anyone, for that matter. Her day to day life consisted of searching for food, and staying on the move. But it was slowly becoming clear to her that this alone was not enough. She desired a connection, a friend, maybe.

Merenwen shook her head as if a fly had landed on her nose. This nonsense was making her soft. In a swift moment she had been interrupted, insulted, shot at, and tackled. She huffed and continued through the grass until she peeked through a break in it's thick walls and spotted Matthial. She wasn't sure if it was curiosity or not that persuaded her, but she crossed the last standing barrier of grass.