Closed The Mourning Wilds

[Marrick Corvis]

In the first thirty chimes of their ride out Sera Mora had made it clear that he was to be silent and observant. Her manner was somewhat stoic and enigmatic, though from what the Kelvic had gathered from previous interactions this was nothing new. It helped that his animal form was a Raven, as it made him naturally curious and observant. The silence though was difficult at times. Sometime during their ride out he began to quietly hum to himself if only to fill the silence and as his baritone grew loud enough to hear, he earned a cruel stare from her. So that seemed to be the norm when they walked or rode the wilderness. When pressed, she had told him he was too loud, and that he should try listening instead.

The statement hadn’t caught Marrick sideways, and from the moment the words had left the Knights lips he had understood the wisdom of it. The wilderness was full of life. Animals and birds would make themselves known if one was still, and patient.

That was over thirty days ago, yet it seemed like an eternity. The trees had begun to bud, and little crocus had sprung in the mossy earth as they travelled. As for Oriah, Marrick had been forced to keep his distance. Their night together the eve before they had left filled him with hope, and he didn’t want to harm the fragile bond they shared by being too forward. He had of course cast sweet smiles whenever their eyes met, and secret squeezes whenever they had been close enough.

However Sera Mora had pulled him aside one dark dawn while the Benshira was asleep and warned him to stay focused. When he asked what she had meant she fixed him with her enigmatic eyes and he had understood. Though the look he had given her back was almost defiant, and the words “Oi know about you and David.” had sealed that moment in time between them. When she asked if he understood Marrick nodded and told her, “Oi will endeavor t'be professional and will not endanger our loives.” That it seemed to have been enough for the Chaktawe. The pair of them had shared a short lived intensity, and she had never asked him what he had thought about the two knights and their relationship. In the end the Dark haired squire simply felt it really wasn’t his business to pry.

Today though the Kelvic rested his head as he watched their camp while the others slept. Their little fire smoked from the dampness that followed the morning mist, and he contemplated. They’d run out of coffee some time ago and had resorted to brewing different roots for tea. Marrick had found the effects to be less overwhelming and at the same time longer lasting and mellower. Which had been a great comfort in the thoughts that filled his mind in the quiet times. He was alert enough to keep watch. Less dependency was a motto of the Chaktawe it seemed, and Icy eyed squire secretly applauded her for it.

“Listen to the birds.” She had said. “Wake me if they go silent. Listen for the warning call of the Jay.” Marrick knew that birds had warning calls, but he found the Chaktawe’s knowledge in regard to the wilderness she walked to be extensive and detailed. Though she kept to herself mostly when she wasn’t giving the pair of them a mysterious lesson in how to become a knight. The dark haired squire realized that this was her way, and he respected that.

He rested in silence, his eyes alert, and his bow across his lap, strung and ready. He had slathered some of the clay that covered the floor of the cave across his face in an effort to better blend into the environment when he had risen for his watch the night before. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it broke up his line well enough. It helped him smell like dirt as well which was better than smelling like a Kelvic. Though Marrick suspected that his musty odor would seem more avian than human, every little bit helped.

The songbirds were very active that morning, though their campsite in the little horizontal crevice in the cliff face kept their noise to a minimum. The quiet left Marrick to contemplate the why of Sera Mora’s instructions. It made perfect sense. Even though he was Kelvic, Marrick knew his sensitivities were limited. He had instincts sharper than a human, but they had limits too. He found he had to repress them constantly, and it was a common curse he made against his ancestors for making him a Kelvic. True animals felt things and knew things he and his companions didn’t. They knew nothing of guile and could be trusted. Sure as one could trust impending rain from dark storm clouds.

Syna was just beginning to peak over the horizon, and Marrick watched the tree tops as they seemed to be alight with a warm wick of orange Syna’s light. His mind turbulent, he cocked his head to one side and stirred. With a soft exhale he stood up on his feet and crouched in the cave as he was too tall to walk erect. He shuffled along as the soles of his boots tapped out softly against the stone and clay floor of the cave. He didn’t want to wake his charges, Sera Mora would relieve him when the time was right.

Stealthily he approached and looked down on Oriah as she slept. So serene and silent, and a sorrow gripped his heart. He wished she understood. It was his own fault after all. He trusted her with his life, but he hated what he was. He wanted her to know just as much as he didn’t. With a slow blink he smiled through the sadness that marred his face and turned to the fire to breath into its embers.

Once he had knelt, he exhaled slowly over the glowing embers making them glow brightly. With his second exhale the cinders crackled softly, and luffed softly back at him like wind in a loose sail. When they grew at last to a little flame the Kelvic added a couple small logs and sticks to the little tent that burned. He wiped some of the tiredness from his face along with some of the clay he’d striped across it and realized that Sera Mora had been watching him.

He blinked for just a tick to try see if he was imagining it, but there the Knight was, observing him as he stooped over the fire. A sigh escaped his nose and he gave her a nod. A simple gesture to let her know the watch went well and there was nothing to report. The knight’s eyes, as always, were enigmatic. Yet she seemed to understand, as she closed her eyes again.

As he stooped again to make his way to the cliffs edge, Marrick wondered if the Chaktawe trusted him. Then again, he supposed that it didn’t really matter. Quietly he shuffled to the corner of the opening in the cliff face and looked out over the forest. The sun was beginning to bathe the whole bronze wood in warmth and Marrick caught himself wondering where his Patron was, and if he was alright. He’d grown attached to David this past year. He was a father and a brother to him. Something he had never had, and as with all things you never quite understand what you have till it’s gone.

It seemed Marrick was filled with a strange pensiveness this morning. Beautiful as it was. It did little to bring his mind and heart peace. So he would lean there, perched at the corner of the cut in the cliff. Ever watchful.

[Oriah]

Ser David's unexplained and rather abrupt departure to go off on some mission or other was a mixed blessing. On the one hand, it meant that there would be, as Oriah had initially assumed, unlimited access to his squire, Marrick. The mere thought sent her mind and heart racing with excitement and the day that Marrick was to come join her and Sera Mora in the woods would not come soon enough. She was fair bursting at the seems when her patron first told her of the news, though the Benshira did note an unusual tenseness in Mora's demeanor.

On the other hand, there was an undeniable tinge of conflict in the air. For whatever reason, the reclusive Knight was not pleased with the arrangements, but Oriah merely attributed it to the fact that Sera Mora disliked her squire being distracted. And blessed Yahal was Marrick just about the biggest sort of distraction one could hope for.

The longer Marrick's stay, however, the more Oriah began to suspect something deeper was at play. Her patron was never outright rude or condescending--it simply wasn't in her nature to behave that way--but she was tougher than ever on the two squires, especially on her temporarily adopted one.

Once, she found herself roused from sleep by movement within their humble camp. Oriah feigned slumber, opening just a single eye to the barest of slits, but the darkness made it hard to see much more than blobs and shapes. Though, she did manage to overhear some of their brief conversation. Nothing more than bits and pieces, with something regarding David and professionalism and staying focused. The Benshira could only assume Sera Mora had meant to switch watches with Marrick and warned him not to compromise their safety. As to why Mora would bring up such excess caution...well, that was where Oriah's deductive abilities came up short.

More days passed like this. Sometimes her patron and sole companion seemed almost congenial. Others, they appeared ready to fall into some kind of subtle argument. Unsure of how to mediate between the two, Oriah simply did her best to soothe what little discomforts she could, working extra hard to forage for woodland delicacies to brighten their days and sneaking whatever chances she could to spend time with Marrick. She caught his tender smiles and brief gestures, but it was near impossible to do much more than beam at each other in passing before Sera Mora inevitably came up with some new task for them to complete. Having been with the Chaktawe for so long, Oriah knew the older woman was behaving out of worry, not spite. Something was eating at the Knight and her squire was completely left in the dark as to what it might be.

Most mornings were as lovely as they were peaceful. Aside from the occasional curious predator, there wasn't much to fear from the woods anymore, not with Mora present. This particular morning Oriah found herself waking just as Syna rose high enough to bathe most of the forest in her warm, gold light and the local birds seemingly burst into trills and song all at once.

She took the time to go through her usual, simple routine, making a short trip down to a nearby stream to wash her face and take care of other basic needs before returning to put on the rest of her gear and run a comb quickly through her hair. The squire then tied the unruly locks into a simple tail before picking up an empty sack and slinging her shortbow over one shoulder. Feeling rather serene and well rested on such a fine morning, Oriah made her way to where Marrick usually kept watch. He'd likely hear her coming long before she could greet him.

Taking this opportunity to speak with Marrick, alone, away from Mora's presence as the Knight was still sleeping, Oriah poked her head around a shrub and grinned.

"Good morning, Marrick!"

She dangled the sack in her hands so he could see what she was holding. "I think I will try finding some mushrooms today for breakfast. Maybe some quail eggs too, if I'm lucky. Do you have anything you'd like for me to bring back?"

Oriah would have asked the other squire to go with her. She wished for nothing more in the world at that moment. But Sera Mora had been pointedly keeping them extra busy and extra apart. That they were speaking at all without the Chaktawe eyeing them from a close distance was something of a miracle in it of itself. All the same, she extended the offer. She would do anything she could to make Marrick smile even for the briefest of ticks.

Alas, no sooner had she thought this than the Chaktawe herself materialized from somewhere beyond the trees and shrubs.

"Some eggs would be wonderful, Squire Azari. Perhaps some berries too if you can manage." Sera Mora turned to Marrick next, her gaze unwavering and clouded with unreadable emotions. "And Niblet, we could use a strong fire for when our Little Bird returns. I can take watch while you search for more firewood."

Oriah bit her tongue and stared at the sack in her hands before nodding in subdued agreement.

[Marrick Corvis]

The Kelvic shut his eyes to the sunlight that tenderly brushed the lip of the cave in the cliff wall and took a long deep breath through his nose. The scents that filled the air were a mixture of wet earth and pine pitch. Somewhere in the back of his mind he fantasized about adding crisped bacon, and freshly baked bread to that scent. Though the stir of someone in their blanket had caused him to look over his shoulder.

Sera Mora had thrown open her blanket and was stretching in what Marrick had come to know as a morning ritual for her. He watched her control her breathing in meditation and he wondered if that was where Ser Whitevine had learned his technique from. The pair of Knights in his mind at the same time flashed the memory of a cold night in winter when the Dark haired Kelvic had witnessed their coupling.

As if the thought were an annoying fly, Marrick shook his head to drive it from his mind. Like the rush of water before the wave crests, he took a deep cleansing breath of his own. It was both relaxing and awakening all at once. After all the icy eyed squire had no idea of their journey that day. They had spent a lot of time learning about plants. Hunting and tracking. Yet Marrick felt almost as if he hadn’t learned anything. It was a frustration, at times, to be with a different Patron. Yet, other times Sera Mora had challenged his perspectives in such profound ways that the Kelvic was left reeling for days, his mind chewing on what she had said.

When Oriah stirred from her blankets he watched with his usual interest, until he remembered his duties and returned his focus to his morning watch. He made sure to take note of their location. He watched the Benshira’s progress, with arrow notched to his longbow with deadly focus. His eyes were a flicker of swift movement as he scanned the shrubs, trees, mossy rocks and shallow water for potential threats. He’d been silent as a corpse as he had watched over them in their slumber. If an animal had sensed their presence they would have certainly approached, but that didn’t count out the odd opportunistic straggler that happened by.

“She’ll be alright Niblet.” Came the Knights voice at his shoulder. The dark haired squire’s body visibly stiffened for a half a tick before he relaxed again and exhaled. “There are no predators nearby.”

Marrick eyed the Chaktawe over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow and sighed. The tiredness of his short night showed in the lines under his eyes. It made him look thirty. Truth be told he felt he had aged half a century, and the Icy eyed Kelvic felt it may have been the case. Regardless, the long night, and the shortness of Sera Mora’s mysterious ways had left him with a boldness.

“Sera,” he said with a voice soft as silk and resounded with frankness. “Oi’ve been with yeh fer almost a season, Roight?” Marrick listened for the Knights affirming hum and with an emphatic nod he continued. “Why am Oi out here? Why did Ser Whitevine send me with you?” The Kelvic turned his attention back to Oriah. Her presence was a soothing balm and just to look on her made him feel better about the situation.

Marrick couldn’t tell what the Knight’s face looked like but he could almost hear the wheel turning in her mind as she considered what she would tell him. “He sent you here to learn something.” Finaly came the Chaktawes bewildering response, which only elicited a sigh from the Kelvic. “And.” The Knights whispered voice hung in the air for just a moment before Marrick felt her hand grip his shoulder gently, but firmly. “To keep you safe.”

With a jerk of his head he glanced side long at Sera Mora. A look of concern furrowed his brow for but a moment before a smirk began to form at the corner of his mouth. With a little shake of his head he turned away again to dwell on his beloved as she washed her face of the night’s filth. “Oi should’a know better than teh ask questions. They always lead to more questions.” A low chuckled formed in his throat but he reached up and gave the Knights hand a brief squeeze. “Oi’m sorry fer bein such a difficult ward Sera. Perhaps Oi can spend at least one day with yeh bein humble.” As he let go he bowed his head and shut his eyes. “N’thanks. Fer bringin me here.”

Sera Mora squeezed his shoulder before she left him alone to watch over her squire. Marrick didn’t bother to look over his shoulder to even try and follow her as she always seemed to disappear like smoke in a stiff breeze. His little smirk developed into a smile and a short chuckle. Perhaps he had finally begun to find a happy medium with the Chaktawe.

Oriah also seemed to melt into the low shrubs as well on her short march back to camp and the Kelvic felt a brief measure of relief. Everything felt so tense out here. Perhaps it was just common sense that made him wary, or perhaps just exhaustion.

Oriah’s pleasant voice carried over to him from behind a shrub and the Kelvic couldn’t help but grin back at her. “Mornin Love.” He chimed back softly before he considered her offer. He was about to sarcastically ask for a bacon sandwich before begging for meat of some description when Sera Mora appeared again. Marrick was always impressed how she managed to almost silently slip through the vegetation. Almost as if the plants parted just for her.


It seemed that Eggs and berries were what was on the menu for this morning. Regardless of what the Sera Ordered, Marrick had supreme confidence in the Benshira’s scrounging ability. Marrick nodded in understanding when the Chaktawe ordered him out for fire wood.

With a heavy heart he watched the Benshira go. With a short look over his shoulder he slung his bow and hopped down from rock to rock until he was at the forest floor. About forty steps from their campsite the Kelvic found a deer trail and began to wander. He marked the location in his head and took a quick assessment of where Syna was in the morning sky.

Syna almost seemed to stretch over the mountains, like she was just waking up herself. A little smile coaxed its way onto his lips and for whatever whimsical notion struck him he said good morning to the brightly lit god. “Good morning Lady Light. Thanks fer keepin us warm t’day.” It wasn’t a prayer, but a simple bodiless thank you. He almost laughed at himself for being so foolish. Regardless he had work to do. With a swift about face he kept his back to Syna as he searched nearby trees for all manner of usable wood.

There was lots of little fallen sticks. Though with the weather turned warm again, rot would corrupt anything too close to the ground. He didn’t need to go far though to find what he needed. An old Cedar lay broken in a thicket just off the trail. Half of its old stump pierced through the ground like a needle through a cloth, while its top half lay broken and dead next to it. What remained of the mighty trees branches held most of it aloft off the ground. Though beneath it, a treasure trove of sticks, old cedar bark, larger fallen wood, and handfuls of needles lay just waited for him to plunder.

[Oriah]

Walking away from the raven haired squire was like pulling at her Hebrean sling. She knew she could only draw the strap so far before her strength failed and the leather snapped back, or something else gave that shouldn't. Oriah had broken her fair share of slings in her youth, the practice weapons having been of crude quality and she of the typical, childish impatience. But she had learned over the course of the years, this tenuous balance between drawing and yielding, and couldn't help but wonder if Sera Mora intended on pushing the two of them until one--or both--broke beneath the strain.

But what choice did either of them have? They were bound by the deepest and gravest oaths of duty. That and more. For Marrick, his was tied to a life altering sense of gratitude for his hard won freedom. And for Oriah, she had her god to answer to, the warmth of his mark draped across her back and shoulders as a constant reminder.

Let it not be forgotten, the Benshira chided herself, that there was also survival to consider, out here so deep in the woods most city folk would be lost within bells. All of their survival. If they didn't work together, all it would take was one stumble into a ravine, or a moment's gap of vigilance during the night watch, and danger would be upon them faster than they could blink. Or at least, that was how Sera Mora explained the consequences. It wasn't so much that Oriah didn't believe her. It was just difficult to fear potential danger with Marrick by her side.

Which he isn't right now, she pointed out to herself in disappointment. But the emotion passed as quickly as it came when the squire spotted spots of blue peeking out from bright green shrubs.

"Found you!" she announced to the blueberries as she lowered herself to a crouch and began picking entire clusters at a time. The Benshira knew from past experience that she would need to gather far more than she thought the three of them would need, partly because Marrick's virile appetite far exceeded that of hers or Mora's, and partly because Oriah had the habit of snacking on them as she roved the woods for eggs.

She made sure to pick only the tops of the bushes, leaving the bottom ones as easy food for the smaller denizens of the forest. It was one of the first lessons Sera Mora had taught her. Since then, Oriah always left behind as much as she had taken, believing in both the practical and ethical reasons fueling this practice.

Once she had filled about half of the sack with plump, juicy berries, the squire moved out to scan the trees. She kept an eye out for the jagged outline of stick clusters nestled between branches. Finding eggs was harder, much harder, than picking berries. But since there was no guarantee that Mora would track down any meat by supper time, eggs were the closest thing to food of substance they had.

Oriah ventured out farther today, avoiding the places she knew bore nests. She'd invaded them the day before and didn't wish to rob the avian parents of more eggs. Instead, she headed west this time, walking opposite of Syna's ascent and making sure to always keep the steady trickle of a nearby stream within hearing distance. While she walked, she hummed, occasionally singing out words in Shiber when the mood struck her. The squire was not a gifted singer, but she had countless melodies of her people memorized by heart, having danced to them many nights in a row back when she still lived in her Tent.

She stopped at a particularly low and thick tree, briefly touching the strip of cloth she'd tied to one of its branches. The moment of truth approaches, Oriah thought to herself as she set down the sack of berries and the rest of her bulkier equipment. Then she rubbed her hands together and started to climb.

The squire placed one foot on a gnarled knob near the base of the trunk, wrapped her hands around a low branch, and hauled herself up. It wasn't a terribly difficult tree to climb, but Oriah took her time nonetheless, making sure her footing was sure before she pushed herself higher. By the time she managed to poke her head quietly and cautiously through two overhead branches, she was slightly winded and her heart beating just a little faster.

She looked upon the nest and sadness wrote itself across her features. The eggs were still there, but no mother. Oriah wasn't sure why the nest had been abandoned, though she had kept a careful eye on it over the past few days, watching for any sign of the parents' return, as Sera Mora had advised. But the Chaktawe warned her not to get her hopes up. Birds abandoned their nests all the time, the Knight warned, for reasons only they and Caiyha herself would know. And if the mother did not return within three days, the eggs would serve better use as their breakfast.

With a saddened heart, Oriah collected the two, tiny eggs, tucking them safely in one of her pouches before climbing back down. Once her feet touched the forest floor, however, the Benshira felt a surge of curiosity course through her. She shouldered the rest of her possessions first, slinging her shortbow over one shoulder and picking up the sack of berries. Then she unsheathed one of her Tamos as she withdrew a tiny egg.

There was a moment's worth of hesitance. Then the squire used the tip of her dagger to crack the tiniest of holes at the top. The egg was cool to the touch, having lost its mother's warmth many days ago, and felt oddly dense. Oriah knew it was a ridiculous thought, but she just couldn't shake the concern that there might be a tiny little birdling too weak to break itself free within the shell.

The hole she made was too small for her to look into, so she cracked a few more pieces away. A little more, almost there, I think I can see...

Oriah froze. At first, she wasn't entirely sure what she was seeing. It looked like a clump of grey mold filling up the lower half of the shell. But then she looked closer, and she was able to see what looked to be a tiny beak poking out of the fuzzy lump. It was...deformed. Mutated almost beyond recognition, the Benshira realized. A half born birdling whose body never managed to assemble itself properly.

She felt a wave of pity and revulsion course through her body. Oriah almost wanted to drop the egg immediately. But she didn't, choosing instead to dig a small hole and bury both eggs within it, side by side. She understood now of what Sera Mora had been trying to explain. The Chaktawe had not meant to be dark or cynical. Just honest over how the world worked sometimes.

With a weary sigh, Oriah made her way back to camp, now keeping Syna directly ahead of her. She returned just in time to catch sight of Marrick's familiar form scrounging about the trees, looking for firewood. Smiling at his comforting visage, the Benshira did her best to sneak around the trees, out of his peripheral. She kept her footsteps as silent as she could before she finally found herself standing some few feet behind him, mostly hidden behind a pale trunk.

"Found you again, Squire Corvis," she called out form behind the tree, stifling a devious little chortle. It wasn't the first time she'd attempted to sneak up on the other squire and it wouldn't be her last.

Oriah stepped into view, bulky sack in hand, as amusement danced merrily in her eyes. "I am sorry to report that I found no eggs," she confessed, a shudder running up her spine upon remember what the abandoned birdling looked like, all cramped and nearly unrecognizable in its shell.
"But I have many berries to share. Are you hungry?"

[Marrick Corvis]

As Marrick approached the laid out trunk of the cedar a strange sound filled his ears. He could still hear the wind as it rustled the spring leaves of the trees. Beneath the pleasant rustle of the trees he heard a subtle buzz. Warily he approached, unsure as a babe. Until at last the noise grew loud and he could see it clearly. There was a nest of bees that had taken over a large hole in the trunk of the fallen tree. The hive seemed frantic in their coming and going, and he stopped to watch just for a moment. It was impressive just how much of them there were.

He realized however that he wasn’t there to gawk. He gathered the small branches first, dried up needles, and bark. Each little bit of dry wood, kindling, needles and bark for tinder found their way into his pack. When he felt it was nearly full he searched for one last good long log. He’d cleared out everything that wasn’t wet accept for underneath the hive. He’d never been stung by bee or wasp before though he’d heard that it was painful.

Carefully he strode forward, quiet and slow. He scarcely breathed as he neared the nest of busy little bees. One or two of the little insects landed on his arm and he halted his progress to inspect their little frames. Little fuzzy beasties with gossamer wings crawled along his arm and touched the sleeve of his gambeson with their little antenna tasting and touching him. They didn’t seem to want to sting his arm, though he couldn’t be sure if they had tried.

As he knelt to pick up the log beneath the loud hum of the hive, his hand met with the dry wood a sticky sensation. The oddity stopped him short, though only for a tick or two. With a slow and purposeful movement he edged away from the hive to observe the nest from a safe distance. It was almost like when one sees a child experience something for the first time; the way he turned the piece of wood over in his hands to look at the sticky drizzle he’d touched.

The piece of cedar had been broken off of the tree for some time, as the wood felt more desiccated than a Benshiran Elders hands. However this sap like substance remained. It looked almost like sugar, yet it was still very viscous. Now, Sera Mora had warned him, as had previous experience that it was dangerous to eat unknown things in the wood. Though, surely just a taste wouldn’t kill him.

Almost as if the little sticky substance was a burning hot coal the Kelvic lifted the log to his mouth. Self-preservation fought against his curiosity in a fever pitched battle as he smelled the substance in a long deep inhale. It didn’t smell like pine sap. Then almost as if he knew he might regret his actions later he stuck his tongue out and licked the sticky fluid with his tongue.

A spark of flavor the Kelvic had thought he’d forgotten struck him so hard it made his glands tingle in delight. It was then that Marrick knew that it was honey. They were honey bees! All manner of dishes both delightful and delicious tumbled through his creative little mind as he struggled with a way to extract just a piece of comb. So entranced was he with this new development that he nearly missed the footsteps on the loamy forest floor as they approached.

The Benshira’s bright and happy voice made all manner of tenseness in his shoulders release, and he found himself grinning almost foolishly at her when she peaked out from behind the nearest tree with a giggle. Marrick’s companion reminded him of a cat, the way she would stalk him from cover and eventually pounce. However, it secretly delighted him. It was like a buried treasure that delighted him each time he discovered it.

“Famished,” he said distractedly. “Found quiete a bit’a wood fer the fire. But some thin got my attention here.” Marrick said, as a mischievous smile began to form on his lips. “Do yah know what that is Oriah?” the Kelvic said as he handed her the log with the honey that had drizzled on its surface. “Here’s a clue.” When he looked at her she seemed confused, and he nodded at the little drizzle of honey on the dried woods surface. “tisn’t sap. Taste it. It’s safe.”


With some additional coaxing he watched her taste the honey and he nodded affirmation when it dawned on her what they had found. “That is a honey bee hoive. Oi was under it fer jest a moment ago. Now nothin against the more than loikly delicious berries yah found, but Oi can taste honey on our breakfast biscuits.” The Kelvic licked his lips a moment in thought. Though, he found the Knights words of caution echoing in his ear, and a promise he’d made almost a full season ago after a fateful encounter with a wolf pack holding him back.

With a long sigh he nodded at the hive as it buzzed loudly. “Let’s go tell Sera Mora. She may know of a way we can get ourselves a wee treat without gettin the shyke stung outa us.” Marrick took a few of the berries from Oriah’s sack and popped a couple into his mouth while he lead her back down the deer trail to the little cavern in the cliff wall. When they made it to the rocks he climbed up occasionally offering his hand to her as they ascended the tumble of large boulders. He tried to remain silent. More simply because Sera Mora had told him to listen to the wilds than to avoid conversation. Every friendly glance Oriah gave him, or smirk was met with a kind smile, and a slow blink reminiscent of the way one might observe a lover during pillow talk.

Once they had reached the cave mouth he found that the Knight was nowhere to be seen. Her things rested comfortably near the old fire they had made up the night before. He looked about cautiously for a moment before he lifted himself into the cave mouth and helped Oriah up after him. He pointed for a moment at her patrons things and shrugged almost as if to silently suggest they do the same. One thing was certain about Sera Mora, and that was that nothing ever was. Or so it seemed.

With a long sigh Marrick set about preparing the wood for a fire. He broke the kindling up into smaller bits, and set about making a nest to get it all started. “So where do yah think she’s gone?” he said in a hushed tone as he build up a small pile of wood from his pack. After a long pause of curling some needles and cedar bark into a nest he added, “When do yah think she’ll be back?” The look he gave her was almost devious in its intent. He knew this wasn’t the place to flirt with such reckless abandon, but that didn’t stop his feelings from spurring him to waggle his eyebrows a little and wink.

He snorted in an attempt to stifle his laughter for just a moment just before he heard the unmistakable voice of Oriah’s Patron. “That fire won’t build itself Niblet.” As always the Chaktawe had seemingly appeared out of thin air. Though not without a small treat. A few birds hung from a strung over her shoulder.

Marrick snorted openly, and coughed to kill the giggle that had taken root in his chest. “Aye Sera.” He said with a nod. “Is there a particular way yeh want me teh build it?” The Kelvic waited patiently for the mysterious Knight to finish what she was doing. Though, as usual she surprised him with an order without even looking at what he was doing.

“Dig a hole.” Came the Sera’s simple command.

Marrick’s brow furrowed. He wanted to tell her about the bee hive, but it would have to wait. Dig a hole eh? He thought, as he began to dig out a small pit in the loamy dirt of the cavern floor.

[Oriah]

Her sandy brows rose at the mention of something else having caught the other squire's attention. But Marrick didn't enlighten her right away, choosing instead to make her guess. His only clue was that of a curious looking, amber drizzle upon a piece of wood. Oriah was about to blurt out "tree blood," which was a literal translation from Shiber, when her companion, as if reading her mind, beat her to the punch and assured her that it wasn't.

The Benshira was a smidge skeptical, but her trust in the other squire was absolute. With slow, curious movements, she used a finger to scoop some of the mystery substance and brought it to her lips for a taste.

Her lit in surprise. "It is sweet!" she noted with a smile, already guessing what Marrick was about to tell her. Honey, right here near the camp. Who would have guessed? And so close to breakfast time too...Oriah's mouth salivated along with her companions at the very thought of the golden delicacy coating their meager travel biscuits.

When she looked over at the original, buzzing source of the honey, however, the squire felt a moment of hesitance. How would they go about retrieving the honey? She'd never dealt with the yellow little beasts before, having spent so much of her life in lands completely inhospitable to the industrious hive makers. And while she had learned of their existence easily enough during her travels, as well as tasted the sweet fruits of their labor, she by no means knew where to even begin. That, and their stingers were as painful as they were deterring.

Fortunately, Marrick was of the same mind as her. She nodded in agreement at his suggestion that they go find the Knight first. Sera Mora would surely know a way, and if she didn't she would at least know of any sound reasons for them not to pursue this risky endeavor.

They walked back to the camp together, munching in companionable silence on the freshly picked berries. The three of them had spent so long out here in the woods that Oriah no longer struggled with finding her way back. She knew the path well enough now that she could go by the direction of Syna's ascent or descent and an occasional landmark alone. There was the trickling stream nearby to use as a reference point, as well as a fallen tree covered in moss and bright red, likely poisonous mushrooms, and the collection of large boulders that stood sentry before their humble cave-camp.

Once Syna set however...well, that was a different matter altogether. Which was why her patron had explicitly warned them never to remain wandering about after dark. Leth's pale light helped, sometimes, but the darkness did strange things to one's vision, and housed denizens within its thick folds that were stranger still.

Fortunately for them, the day had only barely begun and they had good company to share. Marrick, as always, played the part of attentive and affectionate companion, ready with a firm hand to help her climb a boulder or point out in a gentle tone where to watch her step. Certainly, the Benshira was capable of getting to and from camp on her own. But she enjoyed the courtesies all the same; it was a rare gift to be enjoyed for a traveler and now humble squire such as herself.

When they finally returned to the cave, Sera Mora was no where to be seen. Oriah felt no alarm at her absence. She was certain the Chaktawe was somewhere nearby, seeing and unseen. It would still take some getting used to for the other squire, no doubt, but he handled the situation well. He merely sighed before he began starting the fire with his freshly gathered wood. Oriah watched him quietly, knowing that if they filled up the cave's cool confines with their own voices they would not hear anything else coming. Namely Sera Mora. But there could be other dangers, too, and she was mindful of them, even if she couldn't quite grasp their threat just yet.

A true greenie, as some of the more veteran Knights might say. Though given some of the misadventures she'd had thus far, Oriah was willing to be she was not as green as they might think beneath her foreign ways and apparent youth.

Marrick looked up from his task at her, drawing the Benshira away from her internal musings. The glint in his eye was...devilish, Oriah realized, and suddenly his innocent question regarding when Sera Mora would be returning seemed not so innocent after all. She was unable to help herself from returning some of that mischievous wink and waggle of the brows, generally understanding the true question beneath his public one. The two of them hardly got to spend more than a moment alone at a time, thanks to Sera Mora's constant, over protective presence. Oriah found it a bit concerning, the way her patron's demeanor was slowly starting to change. But even still she remained unable to discover what was causing these changes.

It had to be something serious, that much she knew for certain.

As if summoned by her squire's very thoughts, the Knight's voice drifted from somewhere behind them. It echoed softly off of the cave walls, eerie and slightly comical at the same time, as all Oriah could hear in the silence that followed was Niblet, Niblet, Niblet...

Marrick coughed and took the Knight's rather blunt suggestion with good grace. Even when she told him to dig a hole, instead of some of the more conventional methods for fire building, the raven haired squire obeyed with nary so much as a sigh of frustration. Oriah couldn't say the same of her past self, though. It had been a true test of her discipline and patience, in the beginning, to say the least.

"Is there anything I can do to help, Sera?" she asked, setting down the sack of berries. She noticed that her patron had a few birds strung over her shoulder and suspected that those would need to be prepared.

"Yes," Mora replied calmly. "You can help him dig."

Oriah wondered silently to herself if this was some kind of punishment. But she knew the Knight to be neither petty nor wasteful. If they were digging a hole, then it was probably for good reason. Holding back a weary sigh, she knelt down beside Marrick, picked up a stick, and started to dig.

"Just remember, one foot. It is the measure of everything you will be preparing," the Chaktawe explained as she set down the felled birds and her various weapons. "This first hole will be about a foot wide and deep. Then, once you've finished with it, dig another with about a foot of distance in between. Make sure it is upwind of the first and that it is dug at an angle leaning the away. I will explain more as you work."

Staring at the dirt beneath their hands, Oriah assembled these basic instructions in her head before commencing with her digging. It wasn't easy work, considering all she had was a stick and no proper shovel, but the squire did as she was ordered.

Eventually, they would learn of what the pits were for.

[Marrick Corvis]

Marrick’s fingers clawed at the earth to pull away gobs of dirt. When Sera Mora gave them dimensions to improve the design the Kelvic drew his dagger and used it as a makeshift spade instead and started to dig loose some chunks of the loamy earth. As the little pits took shape, the icy eyed squire wiped his brow.

In his head a small list had begun to form. He was thinking of calling it the Rangers Essentials. Flint and Steel were an obvious necessity and most folk in Mizahar carried them. There had been more than one situation where he had desperately wanted snares, so steel wire had found its way onto the list. A Razor Blade, because Sylir knew there would be no peace until the Kelvic had gotten a real shave. A Polished piece of steel, because using a placid water source was hard. Forget the fact that any leaving made the water source useless. A good bed roll was essential to keep from freezing at night, and the Kelvic had begun to ponder a change of attire for when he was a Knight. Thirty feet of good rope, a compass, and a good strong hand axe. Though the thing he longed for at that moment, was a good shovel. Just something simple really. The Kelvic longed for a long sturdy wooden handle with a flattened end, like an oar almost. Or maybe metal. The thought that formed in his mind made him smile as the idea of this task became simple in his head.

As their hole progressed, the Kelvic would get distracted as he watched his beloved work in the dirt. Her hands were dirty, but for whatever reason he liked it. Something in the way it made her seem more common. “Eyes on your work Niblet.” The voice of the ever watchful Knight said in an almost amused tone. “Your hole should be deep enough by now. Dig a smaller hole downwind, about six inches wide, and dig at the angle I suggested. This will allow air to flow through.”

The Knights orders puzzled the Kelvic but he followed them. He cast a little smile Oriah’s way as he began to burrow a small hole through the ground toward the pit they had dug together, while she widened out the bottom a bit. As his dagger chipped away at the ground he progressed further and further toward his goal of the Benshira’s pit. He was careful not to lean on the little bit of earth that bridged their gap, and when their tunnels grew close he laid down his dirk, and returned to using his fingers. “Oi’m a little confused as teh why we are makin two pits. Wouldn’t it be easier teh jest build a fire pit with stones?” The Kelvic grunted with effort as he clawed his way through the dirt.

“Well Niblet, what if you don’t have any stones? Or you don’t want to disturb any stones. This method of building a fire has several benefits. It consumes wood slower, and burns hotter.” The Knight said with a mysterious smile as she plucked the feathers from her doves. “Not only that, but it keeps a fire hidden as the fire itself is in the ground. You can replace dirt to conceal its presence when you leave. It produces less smoke, and much more.

“Ooh.” Marrick cooed as his mind suddenly lit with the possibilities of what their creation would do for them. Curiosity began to tug at him as he tried to reason out the why of it. “So why two holes? How does it work?” The Dark haired squire was suddenly filled with questions. It all seemed so incredible, he wanted to understand this new method of building fires in all its intricacies.

“Well, my little birds the wood goes in the large pit and when the fire is lit, it draws air from the little hole your digging. This makes a funnel for the air, drawing it through.” The Chaktawe indicated toward their little pits with the little knife she was using the gut the fowl she had caught. Marrick couldn’t decide whether it was intimidating or inspiring, but he was so excited to learn something new and different that he was near to bursting. As his hand dug its way deeper he felt the interior of the little pit wall give way. With a little additional effort he cleared the area around the opening to improve air flow

“Once your pit is ready, gather your wood as usual and build the fire.” Sera Mora was almost finished with her fowl before she added. “But don’t light it. We have a couple more errands to run before we get to cooking.”

As always, the Sera’s mysterious ways had him perplexed but he merely gave Oriah a sidelong glance and shrugged. With a smile he gave the Benshira his pack, after removing some essentials. He set aside his flint and steel, and a generous sum of the bark and needles he’d gathered and got to building a little nest for the sparks he wanted to catch.

“Is that Cedar wood you gathered Marrick?” The Knights words came, this time at his shoulder. It never ceased to amaze Marrick at how the Chaktawe managed to get around silently. Yet, there she stood over him like a large bird of prey looking at a little mouse. “The pitch makes that sort of wood noisy while it burns Niblet, next time search for hardwoods. Oak, or Ash.”

Marrick nodded as he understood the wisdom in the Knights words. Living in as low a profile life as possible was a reasonable goal especially when nature tended to be beautiful, yet unforgiving.

[Oriah]

The work wasn't easy. Oriah fancied it might even be borderline grueling, but she made no complaints. Desert life was no kinder, and out here survival was even more of a challenge, as she was clearly not in her element. Marrick's presence and countenance, however, made the task that much more bearable, and together they worked diligently to do as Sera Mora asked.

At some point, the other squire asked why they were digging too holes. Oriah had been thinking the same. Holes were usually meant for things like storage, foraging, or hiding things they didn't want predators to smell. Even the ones they sometimes dug for fires were shallow and singular at best. So why two, and why this deep?

They got their answer soon enough. For the first time in a long time, the Knight was giving them straight, thorough answers. Oriah had grown so used to her cryptic, enigmatic ways that it caught her off guard at first. But the more her patron explained, the more she realized the Chaktawe was being serious. To someone else, this may have seemed a good sign. But Oriah still couldn't shake that nagging feeling that Mora was harboring worrying secrets. And hiding them determinedly, too. She kept them busy all day and all night and was more forthright with information than ever. It was almost like she was trying to...distract them from something.

The Benshira noted that Mora was mostly addressing Marrick when she gave further instructions for building the fire and continued scooping out the last few handfuls of dirt in the second hole. She had just finished dumping her last scoop onto a small mound of earth about half a foot away from the hole when her patron turned to her next.

"Did you hear that, Azari?"

Oriah nodded. She was more than prepared to cope with these surprise quizzes the Knight employed so often. "Hardwoods for fires. Oak or Ash, no Cedar."

Sera Mora gave the slightest incline of her head before pressing on. "You will begin helping me prepare the fowls."

The Benshira gave one last glance to see how Marrick fared before she rinsed her hands with her flask and fished out her eating knife from her pack. For most of her usual tasks, she preferred her Tamo's. But the size of the birds would no doubt require more finesse, and she was more confident making smaller incisions with her basic knife.

Oriah knelt beside her patron and watched the older woman set down her hunted prizes one at a time. Swallowing, the desert-bred squire did her best to quell the unease in her belly. She was no stranger to preparing game, but something about birds...it unsettled her. Felt almost...wrong, though she couldn't really pinpoint why. And it wasn't as if the birds Mora had felled were particularly beautiful or rare. They were just a trio of rather ordinary and fat, brown grouse. Delicious when roasted over a fire, Oriah knew. Yet, there she was, eyeing the birds with more than a hint of reluctance. Strange. When had she developed such a random aversion?

If Sera Mora noticed her squire's hidden discomforts, she paid them little mind. Instead, the Knight drew one of her own knives and poked at one of the grouse, tapping it with the flat end of the blade before pointing at Oriah.

"I have field dressed them all," the Chaktawe explained. "See here, how I have removed the feathers from below the breast to bottom of the birds. Then I made a cut here and pulled out all the organs, including the windpipe and crop. After that, I stuffed the empty cavity with dry grass. It absorbs the blood, cools the meat, and keeps insects out."

Nodding, Oriah shifted in her crouched position, willing away that subtle feeling of unease.

The Knight moved on. "This is important to do right after you shoot down a bird in warmer weather. In the cold, you won't have to worry." She pulled one of the birds closer to her and held the tip of her blade to the plucked portion of the grouse. "The bodies have cooled, so plucking them like this would tear them apart. We could boil water and warm them again, but skinning will be faster, and will give you more practice."

Sera Mora made the first sets of cuts and her squire watched with stoic determination. The feet were deftly removed before the area above the breast was cut open right up to the neck. There, the flaps were pulled back and severed at the eyes and chin. Each of the wings had to be cracked and separated, but after that it was a surprisingly fluid process, the feetless legs popping right out of the skin as if they were a pair of trousers, and this was where the Knight paused. "It's always easier to skin the bodies when they're warm," she cautioned, "but because ours have cooled, you have to be very careful once you reach the back."

She proceeded to a make a few very purposeful, swift cuts diagonally down on either side of the spine, all the while gently tugging the skin down. Once she had most of the back freed, she then sawed off the rest of the tail and spread the grouse skin on the surface of a flat slab of rock. It was quite fascinating to behold in the end, the entire outerlayer of the bird arranged so perfectly without its original infrastructure.

"And my part is done," Sera Mora said as she began removing all of the dirt and grass from the de-skinned grouse's body. "Now it is your turn, Little Ones."

[Marrick Corvis]

Marrick wasn’t extremely surprised when Sera Mora quizzed the Benshira, though he didn’t understand the necessity. Then again, perhaps Oriah was just as distracted by him as he was by her. He looked up at her from his work just for a moment when her Patron called her away from him, and caught her worried glance. He blinked a few times and narrowed his eyes at her subtle communication, and re-focused his efforts on the task at hand.

What could be bothering Lady Mora so much. Their work was fairly successful. Building a fire was straight forward, this small change in technique was simple enough to understand. Yet, something still was eating at the Chaktawe.

As the ladies gut the fowl the Kelvic chewed through what could possibly be bothering Sera Mora. Every little twig and log was another piece of the puzzle and the Kelvic assigned each of them a purpose in his thought process. Before long a small house of problems rested in the bottom of the pit and he scowled at what it represented. His breath was shallow, and he thought that if he built the nest up and lit the little pyre something new might occur to him. The little ball of needles, and cedar bark he’d built before sat on a small flat of bark he’d laid out. Small and unassuming as it was, he knew that little puff of combustibles was a corner stone of survival.

AS he had many times before he removed his flint and steel from his hip pouch and began to try and strike a spark into the nest. The rhythmic tap the stone made against the steel sent sparks out. Though it took several attempts before a spark found its way into the nests scoop. When it did, Marrick knelt on his hands and knees and breathed life into the little spark. The little light glowed cheerily until its heat caught the bark it had fallen on. That little match lights worth of fire ignited the rest of the nest and Marrick deposited the little burning flame into the heart of their fire. Lovingly he placed kindling and sticks over the little blaze, even enticing it to grow with more needles and bark. The work drew on, until at last the kindling caught, and Marrick laid a pair of small logs over the top. Enough to let the air in, but not enough to smother it. The new fire after all was still delicate.

As he rested on his knees, his hands on his thighs, he watched the little light as it danced from wood piece to wood piece. It reminded him of a night by the hearth at Mithryn when Marrick had told Oriah that he would be going with them out into the wilds. It had been almost half a season, yet it felt almost like yesterday. Ser Whitvine had spoke with him then regarding why.

As he thought of David it was as if a little lock had twisted into place and it occurred to him that Sera Mora, might be worried about him. ‘What day is it?’ he thought curiously. If he were being honest with himself he would have realized that he had lost track. Life in the wild was simpler. Your only purpose was to survive, and it didn’t matter what day it was. All that mattered was whether you were warm enough, ate enough, drank enough, slept enough and were healthy enough to do it again the next day. Absent mindedly he added a couple more logs to the fire to keep it going and stood up to attend Sera Mora’s lesson dressing fowl.

He had missed part of the lesson, though watched regardless from Oriah’s shoulder. It was easier when it was warm to skin an animal, and Marrick made note of that as he tucked the idea away into memory, while he watched them skin the little birds. When Sera Mora indicated that he join them he drew his eating knife and gave it a couple draws across his pant leg just to make sure it was clean of dirt.

He knelt at Oriah’s side and smiled at her reassuringly. A kind expression, though he himself was a little worried about the outcome of their first attempt at skinning. Regardless, they gained nothing by staring at the little felled birds. As Marrick picked up his little limp fowl he couldn’t help but wonder if this is what his end would look like. He wasn’t certain if when a Kelvic died, what shape they took. Whether it was an animal, or a man, or perhaps they simply turned into a puddle. Thankfully, the Raven Kelvic had grown unconcerned over the years. If it was made of meat, it was food. The concept was so loose he had even considered eating his fellow companions once or twice. In the end though, Marrick was as always an opportunist. He was not about to kill someone to eat them, that would be a waste. After all, there was so much more food available out there, that didn’t require him killing the people he cared about.

The morbid thoughts that had flowed through his head must have appeared on his face in some way as Sera Mora eyed him with a look most mysterious. Though, after a tick or two the Kelvic realized it was just her way. With a brief shrug he grabbed both the little fowl’s legs in one hand and sliced them clean off at the joint. He made a shallow cut up the belly of the bird up to the neck, which followed the cut that Oriah’s Patron had already made to gut them. He peeled back the skin with the slick sound of tearing tissue. He cracked the wings, and severed the head. The little bits of skin and flesh hung loosely from the dead fowls back, and then the Kelvic pursed his lips in though before he changed the way he held his knife and used it to gently filet the skin away from the back of the bird until it was but a little pink morsel of meat ready for skewering.

Marrick laid the little bird down on a bit of cedar bark he pulled from his pack, and stood. “Some green sticks fer skewers Sera?” the Kelvic was ready to leave the cave at the Chaktawe’s order, though one thing halted him. “Sera,” he said with a curious tone, “You know Oriah and I found a beehive earlier when we were gathrin wood, n’ berries. How moight one,” The Kelvic hesitated as he considered his words carefully, “pilfer a bit of honey?”

[Oriah]

Oriah returned the warm smile that Marrick gave her once he'd lit the fire and come to join them. His countenance alone was often enough to lighten even the most bleakest of tasks.

Wishing for this skinning to be done, the Benshira focused once more on her task, trying her best to mimic her patron's motions. Sera Mora had removed the feet first, so Oriah did the same. She tossed them with the others before slicing the breast open all the way up to the neck. Both squires worked at about the same pace, cracking the wings after slicing off the feet and then peeling the skin from the body one, careful inch at a time. Oriah tore tiny sections of the skin in her efforts, but in the end she managed to pop out the feetless legs and tug the rest of the feathers off of the flesh.

It was oddly satisfying, having three complete little avian pelts side by side. And the fowls would taste delicious once they'd been cooked, Oriah was sure, already thinking of greasy morsels in her eager fingers.

When Marrick suggested some green sticks for skewers, the Chaktawe nodded. "That would do," was all she said in response.

But then the squire halted and turned to ask an unexpected question. Oriah herself had almost forgotten about the bees entirely until Marrick's inquiry. "I do not usually take from the bees," the Knight said in way of answer, "but I have spoken to them on occasion and can tell you what I know. Come back with the sticks first, and then I shall explain it to you while we wait for our breakfast to cook. It will make for good distraction."

She directed this last statement mainly towards her own squire, whose gluttonous thoughts were about as obvious as the slight glaze that appeared in her eyes every time she stared at the featherless fowls.

Once Marrick left to complete his task, Sera Mora turned to Oriah. "You should go to the stream and wash yourself quickly. Take this pot as well and fill it, so that when you return we may cleanse ourselves as well. Neither of you will want dirty hands and faces when you deal with the bees."

Nodding wordlessly, the Benshira took the pot form her patron and made her way to a nearby stream. She traversed through the woods with much more familiarity than a season ago. The desert bred squire could pick out various landmarks now between the cave and important points of interest, like water sources and the Kabrin road. She was also starting to grasp the very basics of using the sun as a basic compass, but her sense of direction was still vague at best, able to reason where north, south, east, and west were and little else. Sometimes she would try to head northeast or southwest, only to find herself a quarter mile off of her intended destination.

Fortunately, the stream wasn't too far from the cave and there were few chances of her getting lost in between. Oriah made quick work of washing her hands, arms, and face before filling up the pot. It was a heavy burden to lug all the way back, but she did so taking only a few rests now and then when her arms ached too much. She also had to be more careful on her journey back, making sure not to slosh any water over the edge of the pot while still keeping an eye on where she was doing.

The pot grew heavier and heavier with each stretch of woodland she traveled. There was a point where Oriah panicked briefly, feeling as if she'd somehow passed one of the landmarks and gone too far. But then she heard Sera Mora's voice somewhere up ahead thanking Marrick for bringing back the green sticks and the panic receded. Perhaps it was just her weariness from carrying the water-filled pot that had caused her way back to seem longer.

Once she returned to the mouth of the cave and set the pot down, Oriah sat down beside the fire to rest while her companions rinsed themselves of their fowled tasks. Sera Mora then had each of their skewer their own birds onto the sticks before placing them carefully over the fire. The Benshira watched her patron and followed in her example. She set a small rock down near the edge of the hole, then wedged one of the fowl-speared stick into the dirt and let it rest at an angle over the rock. They were instructed to pay close attention to their individual birds so as not to let the meat burn.

With this done, Sera Mora began her explanation of the bees and their carefully guarded hive, as promised. "I have spent some time speaking with the bees," she started straightaway. Knowing Marrick would not know how she possessed this ability, the Chaktawe diverted momentarily for his benefit. "I worship Caiyha, Goddess of Flora, Fauna, and Wilderness, and she had blessed me with a mark of Phylonura. It allows me to speak to the plants and wildlife within these woods."

This was, not coincidentally, the first time Oriah had heard her patron speak so plainly of her abilities. But she kept her surprise well hidden, choosing to stare instead at her slowly roasting meal.

"I do not know much in the ways of hives and harvesting from them. But what I do know is that the particular hive you speak of has been newly prospering. Their queen is strong, healthy, and very fertile this season. They have been busier than ever, the ingenious little builders that they are."

Sera Mora gave her stick a slow, meticulous rotation, and her squire followed suit. "That is to say, they have plenty of honey to spare this Spring. But they are vigilant and devoted guards. They do not like the smell of dirty creatures and attack them almost instantly. They will give their lives, if need be, to protect their hive and their queen." The Knight paused for a moment, thinking. "One thing I have noticed though is that they behave strangely in the presence of smoke. I passed by once during the night, a torch in my hand, and when I got close they became very still. I thought they were sleeping at first. But then I looked closer, and saw that they were gorging themselves on their own honey."

For the first time that morning, she looked more amused than pensive. "I think it is a form of defense against the threat of fire. If you were to trick them with some smoke, perhaps you could distract them long enough to cut a piece of their hive."

Oriah was slowly rotating her stick, trying to cook her fowl as evenly as possible while she listened. It was a strange and wondrous thing, her patron's ability, and she was more curious than ever to know what it was like to speak to creatures as small as bees and plants as seemingly unsentient as roses. Perhaps trees would have a lot to say, being as old as many of them were.

A slight edge to Sera Mora's voice, however, brought her attention back to the issue at hand. "But I must warn you," she ended her lesson with a tone of finality, "just a piece and no more. We respect all life within these woods and take only what we need. Destroy their hive or queen, and you will have me to answer to."

With a solemn, understanding nod, Oriah answered, "Yes, sera."