RP Stories/ The Birch and the Bandits

 Landak woke with a start. Looking around blearily in the dawn light, the dark, stormy skies cast a grey pallor on the dripping forest around him. It had been two days since he, Jira and M ô r had left their home in the briar and Landak's mind strayed to how the Alpha's hunting party fared. Rising with a groan, his muscles protesting in his damp clothes Landak shook Jira and Môr awake. "We need to break camp if we aim to reach the birch tree by noon."

 Môr rubbed her eyes to adjust to the morning light. She began to gather her things to set off for the day and hummed cheerfully to herself, excited to see the birch tree - the reason behind this great adventure. Being shaken awake was never Jira's preferred method of waking up - her dreams were cut short and remained unfinished - but after a few moments, the shaman remembered what they were here for, and knew her dreams could wait. Jira pulled a bottle from her pack, poured a measure and drained it in one, feeling the fiery effects of the potion flood her cold limbs with new warmth. "Landak? Môrgana? Some for you?" said Jira as she offered the cup.

 "Sure. Why not" Taking a swig from the cup, Landak asked "What is it Jira?" unnerved by the strange heat flowing through him Landak shook his head and began rolling his sleeping mat up.

  "Warana seed extract. It's rare stuff, but almost mandatory if you want to ward off hypothermia." Jira passed the bottle and cup to Môr, before backing off a few polite steps and shaking the morning dew from her furs in a very dog like fashion. Môr took a sip of the strange substance. She trusted Jira's extracts and elixirs, as she had heard all about them from others back at the Briar. Môr twitched at the bitterness of the solution, which now certainly had her awake. "That's great, Jira!" she cleared her throat and passed back the bottle. Môrgana then looked to the sky, as if to read today's weather.

 Grinning at Môr's twitch Landak rose strapping on his chest piece "Shall we begin breaking camp?" He asked his two now awake friends. Jira nodded as she stashed the bottle back into her pack and rolled up her bedroll, lashing it to the top of her pack. Breaking camp wasn't particularly hard - the Briarwolves had plenty of practice when the pack went hunting - but knowing the weather was likely to get worse as they got closer to the birch, she made sure everything was waterproofed and tied to her pack securely. Having not been out camping with Briarwolves many times, Môr copied the way Jira and Landak packed up their things to be sure her things stayed dry. The storm had not ended and Môr knew that these dry moments would be the last of them for a while.

 Strapping his sword to his belt Landak pulled a tattered map from one of his pouches, "Before we head off I should warn you both that recently a group of people have been waylaying travellers around this area so be on your guard." Landak said as he gained his bearing and began walking down the path.

 "Aren't we always on our guard?" Jira joked as they walked, her trusty staff always at hand. "Besides, there are only three of us, and the weather will keep all but the bravest in their homes. We will barely be noticed." Jira smiled cheerfully, doing her best to keep up the group's spirits as the dark grey storm clouds rumbled ominously overhead.

 "Yeah, the bravest of the brave here, right?" Môr jokingly said as she jokingly punched Landak in the arm. "Anyway, what does this birch tree even look like?"

 Turning his head to hide a slight blush Landak replied "Well it's a lone tree in the middle of a clearing. You will know it when you see it." Adjusting the straps on his bracers he turned, still walking backwards so he could face the pair. "Keep an eye out for a white tree with dark knotholes in it that look like eyes."

 "Where I come from they call it the Watching Tree - with so many eyes it sees all!" Jira said in a spooky voice while she waggled her fingers overdramatically.

 "Ha ha, Jira! Stop trying to scare me" Môr said sarcastically. "So, Landak, what does this 'birch' tree have to do with the Great Eagle?"

 Jira chuckled as she reigned in her silliness - there was a time for fooling around, but she knew it was not now. The path they walked was shrouded in white mist and the grey blanket of clouds above their heads hung heavy with water, the rain would no doubt begin again soon...  "I have only been to the Birch once before, but there is no doubt it is a special place - when I walked under its branches for the first time, I could feel something else in the air - as if the spirit of the Great Eagle is there as well, walking where he once walked many eons ago." The shaman gave a slight smile, remembering the feeling... "If you sit beneath the branches of the Birch, and listen to the wind in its leaves... you may just hear Eagle speak to you too, Môr." Jira shook her head, dragging herself back into the present. "But Landak has visited the Birch many times, he would know more than I in this matter. Landak?" she called to the warrior marching ahead of them, leading the way.

 Slowed down by Jira's call Landak turned back towards his friends. "The first time I came across the birch was when I was still hunting the boar that killed my father. A sudden storm washed away all the tracks and naturally I was pretty annoyed." Looking up at the skies that reminded him so much of that night he continued "I built a shelter around this single birch tree in the middle of a large clearing and rested a while to wait out the storm. When I woke there was a large eagle wreathed in gold before me and it spoke to me. As I listened I realised that my path lay not with chasing the dream of revenge, but with this mysterious eagle." Grinning widely Landak turned away and began walking again. "As the storm now is much like the one then, logically returning to the place where I first met Eagle would be more appropriate than searching all of Hodenwold in the hopes to glimpse it."

 Môr listened intently to Landak's story, but she couldn't help the sudden feeling of déjà vu. Not wanting to fall behind she jogged a little to catch up to Landak. She readjusted the pack on her back, with her fishing spear sticking out the top, and attempted to match is pace stride for stride.

 Noticing Môr attempting to catch up Landak slowed his pace "is something wrong?" he asked cautiously.

" No, I'm fine" she said cheerfully, "I just don't want to get left behind." She grinned at Landak as this reminded her of the first time they met and when he first introduced her to the Briarwolves. Môr then watched the floor as she walked, the ground was wet and slippery, she didn't want my make a fool of herself in front of the strong Fang and the Tribunal Leader, Jira.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> "You won't get left behind." Jira smiled warmly at the pup. "And if by some bad luck we do become separated, put your faith in the Ancestors - they will always guide you to where you need to be." A streak of lightning lanced across the sky, almost from the centre of the storm to where the three Briarwolves stood. "Speak of the Ancestors and they shall appear! Cloaks on!" said Jira, pulling her oiled leather cloak around her as a great sheet of rain sped towards them.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Stopping to pull his cloak from his pack Landak glared at the sky. "We aren't too far from a small town, I would suggest we seek shelter there until there is another lull in the storm." he said, hopeful at the potential chance to look at new weapons.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Jira nodded, eager to get out of the sudden downpour. She muttered a quick prayer to the Great Eagle, asking for the rains to halt soon so that they may continue... but for now, she had to admit defeat, and follow Landak and Môr through the deluge towards the township Landak suggested. "Landak! How far?" Jira called over the sound of the rain and wind, her hair whipping in her face.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Just hearing Jira's call Landak turned "Shouldn't be too far now!" he yelled over the booming thunder. Peering through the sheets of rain Landak could just spy the wooden walls of the town. Reaching the gatehouse he waited under the overhanging roof for his friends to reach him.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Jira and Môr ducked under the wooden shelter quickly, wringing the water from the hems of their skirts. "At least the rain slides right off your armour, Landak - my boots will need a few hours by the fire to get them back to normal!" Jira said as she felt her toes swimming inside the not-so-waterproof leather. The shaman gave the gatehouse door three solid thumps with her staff, hoping someone would hear them over the rain. "We're only staying until the worst of the rain stops... I wish to get to the birch as soon as possible."

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Môr muttered something under her breath. She was in her own world and hadn’t even noticed that they had found shelter.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> "Môr, did you say something?" Jira asked. The usually eager and energetic pup had grown quiet since the rain hit. Even when the shaman called her name, she didn't respond... she still seemed like her mind was elsewhere... "Môr? ... Môrgana! Is everything okay?"

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> "What?!" Môr snapped out of it. "Oh, I'm sorry, Jira - didn't mean to snap at you. I'm not used to anyone but my mother calling me by my full name." Jira raised an eyebrow at Môrgana's comment... She had introduced herself with her full name when she first met the Wolves, so why wouldn't Jira use it? But just as Jira was about to ask what was on the pup's mind that had her so distracted... the gatehouse doors swung open, and a skinny runt of a guard peered at the three through the rain. He must have drawn the short straw to be the one to leave the warmth of the guardhouse. "What business you got?" He half shouted over the rain.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Môr grabbed suddenly at Jira's arm. "Wait? Where are we...?" she asked Landak and Jira quietly as she looked up at the guard, "'Cause I have a bad feeling about this."

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> "Bad feeling?" said the guard, "Not surprised in this weather... been like this ever since them lot from the Black Talon got here." The guard pulled his shoulders up and dug his chin into the depths of his collar, fighting off the cold wind. "I say again, what business?" he said, talking more to Landak than the other two females who followed him.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> "We seek the local inn until this storm passes" Landak said as he stepped forward. "We mean no harm to those who reside here." Pulling his spare cloak from his pack Landak offered it to the guard.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> The guard glanced at the cloak suspiciously - was this a bribe? What were these three up to, travelling in a storm like this? But a sudden gust of wind and a flurry of heavy raindrops seemed to change his mind - rules be damned, he thought. "Many thanks, traveller!" said the guard as he took the cloak, wrapping it firmly around his shoulders. "Inn is that way, first turning on the right, just past the forge." The guard pointed with his thumb. "Anything else I can help with?"

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> "Many thanks, would you be able to tell me what the Black Talon are doing in town? I haven't heard much about them." Landak asked relieved at his friends being allowed into town.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> "Preparing for some job they have to do, no idea what. Must be an outdoors job though, coz they're waiting for the storm to pass too." The guard pondered for a moment, raking his memory. "They came in with a big cart, and they all had woodchopping axes with them. They might be logging for some reason?" The guard scratched his head. Môr couldn't believe her ears, "Logging?" she questioned the guard. "Where?.. What?" she began to franticly question. With tears in her eye, Môr stood in front of the guard as if to intimidate the truth from him.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> A figure in a cloak and hat, leaning on a polearm to navigate the muddy inn yard, stopped and turned to the guard at the gate. "Oi! I told you before, ya great lummox, this axe cuts people, not wood!" he shouted across the yard. "We brought saws for the tree. And who're you talking to about us, anyway?" The man pole-vaulted over puddles to the shelter of the gate overhang. "Feeling miffed we didn't bribe you, huh?"

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> "Uhh.. I... I didn't... " the guard slunk back in fear of the man. "They're travellers, just sheltering from the - "

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> "I am Jira of the Briar." The woman looked the newcomer in the eyes - she felt no reason to hide her name from him. "And you, sir?"

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> "Jira? Do I..." Quarrel lifted his hat and squinted into the gloom, doffing it entirely when he saw the face. "I do! Hello, Jira, novice bard. I'm William Quarrel, journeyman and songmaster of the Bard's College, such that it is...come into the tavern, it's cold and wet out. Bring your friends." Replacing his hat, he turned and began to pick his way across the mud, beckoning the wolves to follow. Quarrel spun on his heel and flicked a silver at the guard. "There, consider yourself bribed. Don't be mentioning our presence willy nilly, now. People round here are pretty good to us, but you never know when outlanders will come knocking."

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Concerned at the strange young bards change of tone Landak looked at Jira and then the warm light from a nearby building. "Jira? Do you know this man?" he asked cautiously. Môr was ready to breathe fire as she was greatly disturbed by the "tree" the stranger mentioned. But, she waited on Jira's explanation, as a pup should.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Jira looked at Quarrel's back as he walked ahead, before speaking to Landak: "We've met only briefly, when I joined the Bards Guild for a time. I haven't been back there in a long while - I'm surprised he remembers." Jira paused for the briefest of moments, but quickly made up her mind, following after Quarrel towards the tavern. "Come on - it will do us no good waiting in the rain."

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> "Jira... Landak... There is something I need to tell you." Môr whispered to her two travelling companions. "I'm worried about the birch tree. You know that 'day-dream' like state I was in before, well I tend to have images that go along with them." Môr fell silent as if she was thinking of the right words to say.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> "Images?" Jira whispered back. "What did you see?" Jira heard the concern in Môr's voice, but they had less time to discuss it than she hoped. "Speak your mind, Môr."

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> "Well, I saw, what I think was what was left of a pretty big tree" Môr said, "There were saws, axes and bits of branch scattered throughout a large clearing." J ira stopped in her tracks, her mind in overdrive. Deliberately calm, she spoke: "... What kind of tree?"

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> "Not sure, there wasn't much of it left" Môr explained, "But it had a pretty big stump. ...Is it the birch tree?" She snapped her head in Landak's direction, "Because I don't have a good feeling about this at all."

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> "We may find out sooner rather than later..." Landak said as he opened the heavy door to the inn, assailed with the warmth of a large log fire and the smell of ale Landak looked around for Quarrel.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Quarrel was making his way over to the large corner table, where a trio of other Bandits sat. "Hey lads, we have wolves! Jira and friends, these are Balian, McCullough and Mannwathiel. Lads, this is Jira and her companions whose names I never got. The others are out, and might come back? I dunno. Their business." He sat at one end of the long bench, pushing Balian along slightly, motioning for the Briars to sit. "What brings you out here?" "Manni's easier. Hello, fluffies." She leans on her hand, flicking half heartedly through an old looking book full of pictures of trees. MacCulloch, drinking from a tankard notices company; going to speak faster than he can finish his mouthful of ale, spits and dribbles it all over his beard. " If it's easier for ya, call me tha *urrrrpp* Hairy Bastard."

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> "Ladies, gents." Balian nods quietly, both hands nursing his now-warm goblet.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Quarrel leaned over the table to stop Manni's flicking on a page with a birch tree, pulling it over to look at it. He squinted at the drawing, trying to remember it. "So that's what we're looking for..."

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> "Birch tree? Hrmm.... Not a good omen, from what I know. You're not supposed to sleep under 'em, else it'll eat you." She carefully grabs her mug of cider, thinking as she drinks. "Maybe a spirit? A dryad, naiad?"

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> "Maybe..." Quarrel said. "All I know is, we need a bunch of birch wood specifically for making those badges and seals and accessories for the job we're going to be pulling on the Salvias. They have it as an ancestral symbol or something, remember? Anyway, all their official stuff is made of it, and we can't buy it easily because of them, and the nearest other birch trees are up past the Baile'Iska border. Don't want to be cutting down fey woods; the North got seriously badly attacked when they did." Quarrel continued tapping at the book, looking at the distinctive features of the tree.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> MacCulloch began to ramble (in a thick Dalriardan accent) "ah remember sleepin oonder a biirrch trree 'wonce... I woke up on a northmen's ship... sumthin about a squid... I don't know"

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Manni shrugged. "Should be easy enough to get it. If there is a spirit in it, can just transplant it to some other tree. Not too hard, like gardening really."

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Balian shrugs. "Been meaning to add another piece of hardware to my armoury. Not sure of the applications of a birch tree, but I could work with it."

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Quarrel shook his head. "Not good for bows, or much for practice weapons. The sap's apparently medicinal or something, or so said Bol'Dur, but it's mainly for the con, and so we don't have to fight the fey."

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">"N oaw where's the fun in not fightin' the fey.....' MacCulloch leans back and pats his sword leant on the wall behind him

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Suddenly a dagger slammed into the table - Jira's knuckles white with anger around the handle... Môr's daydream and uneasiness, and the sheer fury of Eagle's storm... And now these four planning to harvest wood from the only birch tree for days around... Jira had finally twigged. "There is only one birch close to here - " her voice quiet, but forceful "- and it must NOT be harmed."

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Môr jumped at the Jira's sudden burst of violence, the young pup had never seen such anger in the Briarwolf Shaman. Môr rested her hand on Jira's shoulder, concerned for this group of travellers' lives, "Jira, I'm sure we can try to explain why they can't cut down the birch... peacefully?"

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Fury written over Landak's face as his eyes seemed to grow darker. "You touch that tree and I will end you all." he whispered as his hand went to his sword. Môrgana thinks back to her Celtic roots and remembered what her father would do to diffuse the situation. "Bar-man! A round of seven for this table!" She bellowed across the Tavern, "Quick smart, these travellers are thirsty!"

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> MacCulloch focuses his attention to Landak. "'End me!? You couldn't even starrrt me!' MacCulloch chuckles 'Noaw sit doown and have a drink on ya fair maden here before this place gets right proper bloody."

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> "Fair?" Môr scoffed at the description, "I may be fair of skin, but I am not fair for heart. Bar-keep! Another two drinks for this gentlemen and myself!” Môr gestured toward MacCulloch, “Maybe, we can settle our differences with a little competition?”

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> In spite of the situation, Jira couldn't help a smile - even in her short time with the Briars, Môr had already proven she could hold her drink better than half of the pack. "Good point, Môr. This need not end in violence - please forgive my outburst. Be seated, Landak, and give these two some elbow room." The birch temporarily forgotten, Jira extracted her dagger from the table, and replaced it with a handful of coin to pay for the drinks.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Sitting sullenly Landak calmed himself. Turning to the bearded man across from him. "Môr here can drink most people under the table, you know." he said gesturing to the young pup beside him.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> The barman's wife had trouble carrying the eleven drinks through the inn to their table, but somehow she managed - the drinks delivered, she scooped up the coins and hurried away before she got caught in any trouble.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Quarrel stopped scratching his leg, leaning on the table and taking his drink with one hand, resting the other in his lap. "Wouldn't advise a sword in these close quarters here, boy. Jira there had the right idea, but for damaging the table. This innkeep is lovely, so don't break any more of his stuff. Also, McCullough is hardly most people, even with his head start."

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Môr grabbed at a tankard and swung it into the air, "Iechyd da!" She wished all her drinking companions 'good health' in her native tongue. MacCulloch starts guzzling one of the recently bought drinks, looking at Môr after a large mouthful, again talking faster than he can finish his mouthful "I like this wone...' <p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Quietly watching, Manni leans back in her chair. A fight in this inn would be quite unpleasant, and as the storm still rages on she does not want to be forced outside. "May I ask why you are so against taking down a tree?"

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Jira took one of the mugs and traced the rim with her finger absently... "Not A tree. THE tree. Any other birch tree we would have no qualms, but the one I suspect you mean to harvest ... is special. To us, and to our Ancestors."

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Quarrel smirked, taking a brief sip of his drink. "The tree we mean to harvest is special to us, too. It's special because it's the only option we have of getting real birch wood without angering the fey, and we need birch wood for a job we're going to pull, and we need to pull jobs so that our people can continue eating."

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> "How will your people continue eating if this storm continues indefinitely?" Jira paused for a moment, hoping her fellow bard would understand her. "This storm is the doing of the Great Eagle spirit, the Thunderbird. The birch tree is his ... " she searched for the right word "...sacred place. When the storm began a few days ago, the three of us began our journey to the Birch to ask Eagle the purpose of the storm he summoned." Jira paused. "Am I correct in assuming the storm began shortly after you took this job to cut down Eagle's favourite tree?"

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Môr smirked at MacCulloch’s comment and takes a very large gulp from her tankard. Half way through her second drink, Môr lets out a quiet belch. “Excuse me.” she said and waited for Jira’s glare.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> "Wait... An over sized electric chicken is causin' this appaulin weather... I thorrt Dalriada was just given' me a visit!' MacCulloch leans forward "so... How much will ye' pay us to not cut this fancy electric chicken tree?"

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Quarrel glared at McCullough. "We missed the worst of this storm back home, Thetis protects us as best she can, but obviously it's not good for the people. But we need that birch wood, so unless you can talk nicely to the fey..."

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> MacCulloch leans back eyeing Quarrel in return, slightly shrugging his shoulders & shaking his head; chuckling "talkin' nicely with the fey...."

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Manni's hand reaches out and tugs sharply on one of MacCulloch's curls. "Oy, offense taken. But we do really need that wood. There may even be a compromise we could come to? You need the spirit or whatever is in that tree, we just need the physical tree."

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> MacCulloch feels the tug on his head 'aach! Fook, sorry... Ow!' As he rubs his head where Manni pulled.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Finishing off his drink Landak raised his voice "Well. We could commune with our eagle ancestor and request to take a cutting from the birch tree." Looking at Jira Landak grins "I have heard tales that Jira knows a great magic to grow trees rapidly from saplings and cuttings" Turning to Quarrel, "Would you and your friends be interested in this?" he asked softly. M ôr slammed down her tankard and look frantically between Landak and Jira, "You can do that?.... You have that.... power?!"

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Jira's face brow furrowed in concentration... "I haven't done that for years... since before I came to Althea..." She closed her eyes, casting her mind back to her training with the druids... "I think I remember the spell..."

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Quarrel quirked an eyebrow. "That'd be fairly ideal. Manni, would the Treecallers like a birch plantation? Birch sap is apparently medicinal."

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Manni pondered for a moment. "I think that could be quite ideal for us, help the Treecallers and the Silvers... But would you be able to teach me the spell, Jira? Then we can have a proper plantation near to Clara, and under Thetis' protection."

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> "Unfortunately I cannot teach it," Jira said. "It is a technique only the druids can share." She bowed her head apologetically. "Also, there are... consequences... for using this spell." Jira took a breath, remembering the side effect of hastening the course of nature. "But -" she smiled "I am prepared to bear the consequences, if it means Eagle's birch remains unharmed."

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Landak opened his hands wide - a gesture of peace. "You wish a plantation - If the Great Eagle is willing to let us take a cutting, we can provide you with one fully grown birch, grown within your territory. From that birch, you make take as many seedlings as you need for the beginnings of your plantation." Landak said hoping to find a resolution so he could browse the local blacksmiths wares ...

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> "Also, Manni, I am happy to provide you with information on nurturing the saplings. My uncle once owned a plantation where he harvested tree sap, I'm sure that similar practises apply to birch trees" Môr offered in hope for a resolution, as she did not want her daydream to become true.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> "My father is a gardener; he specializes in large, full grown looking gardens and helping regrow forests. I should be fine with fixing it all up. If you are fine with taking consequences for fixing up the first tree, we will take that with us, and you may have the spirit tree to yourselves. If this is agreeable to all parties, all we need to do is wait out this storm, and go ask the trees opinion." Manni sat back, hoping that this would work. When in private she would speak more to her fellow bandits, as she had a few ideas to tip the scales in their favour.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">  "Take it with you? I cannot grow this tree for you unless it is planted in its new home... unless you intend on dragging a fully grown but very dead tree with you all the way to Clara!" In spite of the situation, Jira held back a laugh at the mental image. "If your father is a gardener as you say, he would know a dead birch will not give you any healthy saplings for your future plantation. No, we would journey with you to where you wanted to plant the new birch (within reason of course, I won't follow you to Alfheimr!) and grow it there." Landak's face fell in reaction to Jira's words... "We can return here if you still want to browse for more weapons, Landak, but we must see this to its completion first." "Balian? MacCullan... No... MacCurrogh... No... *sigh*... I'm sorry; I'm terrible with names... Hairy Bastard?" Jira looked to the two men who hadn't spoken in a while. "What do you say to this proposal?"

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> MacCulloch takes a long mouthful with a frown; pulling the tankard from his face he nods '...ach! Alright, let's plant a tree... Just don't stop me if we run inta' fey, ya hear?' Balian grimaced. "I'm half tempted to just walk out there and take the sodding tree while we talk here, but if we all win, we all win." Balian pushes his warmed goblet away. "So, Shall we be underway?"

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Quarrel smiled. "Glad we could arrive at a mutually acceptable conclusion. Let's get going, I don't like this weather."

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Manni throws her hood up and follows after, tucking her bandana tighter around her neck for warmth.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Jira half chuckled - her boots had only just begun to feel dry in the warmth of the tavern, and now they were about to head out again. "I'm sure the weather will clear up as soon as we arrive at the birch and ask Great Eagle for his favour." the shaman said as she stood. "Landak? Môr? Are we ready to go?"

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Quarrel paused, looking over at the innkeep's concerned face. "Actually, we don't have to go just yet...these people do good food, if you'd like to stick around a little." He leaned forward, lowering his voice. "And you probably should. Times have been hard for this village of late, and winter's just gone, so there haven't exactly been many travellers out."

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Standing up ready to follow Jira out, Môr notices that Jira has barely touched her drink. So, she takes up the tankard and continues to drink until it is empty at a great pace. Still feeling the dampness in his clothing and the emptiness in his stomach Landak turned to Jira "I think we should stay and eat a while, and from the look of thinks I don't think Môr has finished drinking yet." he said grinning.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Sniffing, Balian resumes to his seat. "Well, keep the smell to yourselves please, and keep your wits about you, I'd rather not have a stumbling lot, I'd put my money on the tree otherwise."

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> MacCulloch calls out to the closest wench '8 CHICKENS, 3 BOAR LEGS, A PLATE OF POTATOES AND 10 MORE TANKARDS OF ALE LASS!!!' Slamming his tankard against the table, making a lot of noise and gaining too much attention.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Seeing all but two of the group still seated, it seemed to Jira the decision was made - they would stay in the township for a time: Landak could trade with the locals, and Môr could pace herself and enjoy her drinks before they journeyed out once more. Jira regained her seat, and spread her hands wide in a gesture of openness: "Well, I am quite hungry, and I could use a good meal after days of walking - Quarrel, you seem to know this place well - what meal would you recommend?"

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Quarrel placed a hand firmly on MacCulloch's arm, ceasing his tankard-banging. "It appears my decision has been made for me. Simple fare, but plenty filling." The food arrived in small batches, and was quickly torn apart by the hungry wolves and picked at by the Bandits. The ale flowed, stories were swapped, MacCulloch boasted loudly about his many confrontations with the squid, Landak left and returned between 'courses', examining the meagre local wares, Balian nipped a bar fight in the bud, and soon the rain lessened and the group was on its way.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> The walk to the birch was long and dreary, only the continued tales of sea-monster fighting and boasting one-upmanship stopping people falling asleep on their feet. Quarrel turned to Jira. "We nearly there?"

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> "Almost!" Jira replied."Hear the creek ahead? It's just on the other side." Jira ducked under a low hanging branch (difficult to do with her pack on) to see Landak up ahead, excitedly leaping from boulder to boulder across the creek to be the first to get there - the place he met Eagle for the first time.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Môr, excited to see the birch tree that Landak spoke about so much, attempted to match his footing only but a few step behind him. She used her fishing spear which be held in her right hand to steady herself, if needed.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Shaking his head, Balian continued with the party. "Lovely. Let's see what all the fuss is about shall we? All this for a bloody tree..." MacCulloch constantly shifted his eyes and head keeping an eye out for creatures to be hunted... or fey. When at the creek he tries to jump to a boulder, slips and falls into the creek, just wading his way to the other side 'I don't trust these fookin' woods..' cursing as he climbs the bank.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Standing atop the creek bank, Landak gazed down at the clearing ahead of him. Long, lush grass carpeted the ground as small ferns dotted the scenery all dripping with the remains of the storm that had now died down to a light drizzle. In the centre of the clearing lay a majestic birch tree growing up through a large moss covered rock. Stepping down into the clearing Landak felt a familiar sense of peace wash over him. Turning around to the group behind him Landak spoke softly... "We are here." <span style="color:rgb(145,151,163);font-size:9pt;">

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Only a few steps behind Landak, Môr could not believe her eyes. She had an uplifting feeling and a sense of déjà vu. It was a great big bedw tree, which is what she would have called it in her native tongue. "Birch...? This is a birch tree," she looked at Landak with astonishment in her eyes. "My father would have called it a bedw tree, but I have never seen one this big before." With her jaw locked open with amazement, Môr waited for Landak to continue further as she could feel the spirituality and connectivity of the big birch tree.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Quarrel made his way slowly across the creek and stepped into the clearing at the rear of the group. "Huh. I was expecting something bigger."

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Grinning to himself Landak looked at Quarrel "Size isn't everything, I'm sure that with care Manni will be able to cultivate a far greater plantation than this single tree." he said.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Staring up at the tree, Manni moves as to pull off her boots. "I wanna climb it. I wanna climb it so bad by Thetis I will do this."

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> “Now I know I have had a few drinks, but I don’t think that would be the best idea, Manni,” Môr explained. “Especially in this weather,” she added knowing that the act of climbing the birch would anger the Great Eagle. A sudden gust of wind swirled into the clearing, shaking the last raindrops loose from the canopies above them... and drenches Manni. A peal of rumbling thunder echoes from the grey clouds above, and it almost sounded like laughter.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> "It's uh, definitely a tree." Balian throws his gear to the ground. Unsheathing his blade he stalks slowly towards it.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> "Balian, do NOT go after the tree with a sword. It's terrible for the blade." Quarrel held out a warning hand.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Drawing his sword Landak moved to stand between Balian and the birch. "I would kindly ask that we do not end our time negotiating in bloodshed." He said, his voice low and gruff.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Balian glared suspiciously. "Just in case the tree decides to make any ..sudden moves..."

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Quarrel dropped his outstretched hand with a dull smack. "...are you serious?"

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> "There won't be any 'sudden moves' if you let Landak handle this part." Jira moved to take Landak's place between Balian and the birch, her staff in hand. "Landak? You are Eagle's follower. You have the honour."

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">Pl acing his hand on his sword MacCulloch moves up next to Balian. 'Alright, let's see the electric chicken do its thing!'

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Landak sheathed his sword at Jira's words. "The Great Eagle halts this storm so that we may make our peace here, and yet they draw their blades?" He muttered to Jira. Landak walked to the base of the birch tree and knelt. Speaking softly he asked for permission to take from the physical embodiment of his worship.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Môrgana slowly approached the tree with one hand out stretched. She ran her fingers over the eyes that rippled across the bark of the tree’s large trunk. Thousands of the black eyes stared from the crisp white bark, as if watching everything that happened. Môr looked up into the branches, which hung over shadowing a great expanse. She was lost again in her mind or in the tree?

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> And as Môrgana looked up, a chirruping call sang out, loud and happy - a bright, red chested robin fluttered and landed on one of the birch's branches. The little bird looked at the group, cocking its head to one side... before flitting down... circling the group - singing as it flew past the three wolves, swooping low at the heads of both Balian and MacCullough, cornering past Quarrel.... before landing gently on Manni's shoulder.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Surprised and confused at the bright bird's arrival Landak turned to Manni "It appears the eagle gives you permission to climb the birch after all... The red robin is one of his many messengers." he said laughing.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Grinning, Manni pulls some seed out of a small pocket and holds it out for the bird. Water drips from her hair but she smiles softly at the little creature, listening to its silent words. "To the top, little friend?" She says quietly. Pulling off her soft boots she swings up to the first branch, quickly disappearing into the dense foliage, the robin fluttering around as she goes. Her voice comes from the tree, high up: "It's amazing up here. Whatever this spirit is, it's happy to have people here. Seems like it was lonely."

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> "Lonely? ... " Jira looked at her feet and smiled wistfully, remembering the story she was once told.. and repeated it under her breath...

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> "... And although Eagle was prepared to stay with his friend day and night to help keep the shadow at bay, Robin knew that sometimes Eagle was too busy to stay with him all day – he had lots of other jobs to do – but he would always make time to see Robin at least for a little bit, every day."

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Jira shook herself from her reverie. If the Great Eagle was indeed lonely, then it was a good thing they were helping propagate his tree... Perhaps Eagle would find a new friend in this 'Thetis' that Quarrel mentioned? "Manni?" Jira called up the tree. "A cutting a handspan back from the end of a new branch would be ideal." Jira called up the tree. The shaman unbelted her athame and its sheath from her hip and muttered a word of power to wrap a bubble of air around the blade, before calling the wind to send it gently upward. "I'm sending up my athame for you to use. Incoming!"

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> "I have seen Thetis herself with mine own eyes, though I doubt she would believe what I have to describe before me." Balian finally lowers his guard.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Leaving her trance, Môr could barely see Manni high in the birch tree. She stood back from the great big trunk to catch a glimpse of what was happening.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Quarrel leaned on his axe, watching the proceedings. "Jira, how long will this birch take to grow once we get it to Clara?"

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Jira's eyes remained skyward, concentrating on safely levitating the dagger as she answered: "Once planted, I can have the new sapling grow full size in less than an hour. But the wood will still be green, far too soft for use... Wait a week or two for it to settle, and you can use the new birch to your heart's content."

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> "...A week or two. Right, okay..." Quarrel wandered to the edge of the clearing, talking to himself, trying to organise plans.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Quarrel felt the sudden pressure of the silence in the clearing, and his own rush of frantic plotting. Spotting Manni distracted by the robin on her shoulder, he threw down the axe and clambered up the birch himself, slipping occasionally but never quite falling. Taking Jira's athame from its air bubble, he made the prescribed cutting, sticking it along with the shaman's dagger carefully in his belt before climbing back down, dropping the last few feet and rolling to a stand in front of Jira. "Your knife," he said, offering it carefully, handle first, "hopefully undamaged. Now let's get this cutting safely home." Shocked by Quarrel's sudden impatience, but also his ruthless efficiency, Jira took back her athame in stunned silence. Quarrel reminded her of Dayro - no nonsense, get the job done - indeed, that is what they should do... Jira ripped a square of cloth from her skirts, and bundled up the end of the birch cutting along with a good handful of moist mossy soil to help it last the journey. "We should be good to go. You have deadlines to meet, and we have tarried long enough."

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Môr, delighted by the outcome, was happy for the clearing of the rain and thunder. She looked up into the great birch as if to be watching something that was not there, then muttered "Diolch un fawr, bedw mawr." Which roughly translated to 'many thanks, great birch'. She walked over to Jira with her hand out stretched. "May I bless the little sapling, Jira?" Jira smiled and passed over the sapling, pleased that the pup was eager to help and use her skills. "Of course - all good will is beneficial to growth."

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">M ôr cupped the sapling in her hands and hummed a song to the ‘bedw bach’. She carried it towards the creek and sat by the water's edge. Môr lowered the sapling’s base into the water until the bit of cloth was sodden through. She whispered to the little sapling, “Bedw bach, I bless you in Eagle’s name and by the Oathmother that you grow fast and strong.”

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Watching Môr bless the sapling Landak offered a hand to Manni so she could descend from the birch. "I think we should be on our way to Clara." He said to Jira "I have a feeling something may have happened back home."

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Jira looked to the skies - the afternoon sun breaking through the clouds at last and the dappled light shone warmly on the faces of the group. "I'm sure that the pack is safe enough - no doubt Alpha and the rest will be taking the pups for their first hunt soon. As long as they don't go too deep into the Briar, they'll be fine."

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> "Well, now the weather's better, we should make tracks. Clara's a ways away from here, maybe a day and a half, so we'll be there for dinner tomorrow if we move now." Quarrel picked up his axe and grabbed his companions, leaving the sapling with Jira. Balian and MacCulloch moved to the back of the group, while he and Manni stayed a way up the front, discussing something quietly. Looking back over his shoulder, the Bandit stopped. "Anything you need to do afore we leave?"

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> "You all go ahead, I'm going to stay awhile, admire the scenery, got a few things to take care of." Balian drifts off into the distance.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> MacCulloch stretches (with a few mighty cracks coming from his shoulders and back) 'Alright... as long as we stop off somewhere nice for a drink... or a fight to pick...'

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">  "I'll stay and wait for Balian - wouldn't want him to lose his way out here in the wildwoods." Jira sat cross legged before the great birch tree, the sapling cradled in her hands, weaving gentle words of magic into its roots to help protect it on the journey to Clara. "Besides, if I am to help this... bedw bach... " she grinned at Môr "...to grow strong, I need as much strength as I can gather."

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> "Balian, if you're that enamoured with the scenery around here, we can come back once we're done..." Quarrel trailed off, shooting the other Bandit an eyebrows-raised just-run-with-this look. He waved his hands about, getting people moving, grabbing his own possessions and waiting for Jira to finish before offering her a hand up. "Actually, if this part of Hodenwold really does hold such appeal, would you mind taking MacCulloch and Manni, and heading back to the village to get our cart with all the supplies in it? Bring it back to Clara, I'll go ahead with the wolves and guide them there, make sure they don't get killed by our local friendly dryad, and we can all live happily ever after." He placed a hand on Balian's shoulder and led him aside a bit, speaking in a low voice. "And as you probably gathered, that whole 'few weeks time' thing really doesn't work for us, so if you could maybe make a stopover here, get a few branches, I'm sure Eagle wouldn't mind. Don't go felling the entire tree. If one of the wolves wants to head back with you, give them the slip somewhere. Best of luck." Quarrel watched Balian go, raising an eyebrow before heading back over to the group. "Change of plans. While Balian attends to some more...personal business, Manni, if you'd cease bothering that bird and take MacCulloch back the conventional way, wait at the village for a little to pick him up once he's done and then take our stuff back. We paid good money for that cart, and I'm sure we can get -some- use out of it. Wolves, if you want to follow me, you've shown us your special tree so it's only right we show you ours."

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> ulling a slightly battered map out of his coat, the Bandit lead the wolves down the trail and out to Hodenwold's best approximation of a road. Between the shamans' kinship with the animals, and the sight of the orange bandanna providing an immunity to most would-be robbers, they made their journey untroubled, but even then the sun was setting by the time they reached a small, run-down inn situated roughly between nowhere and bugger-all. Turning in to the muddy yard, its strange placement became clearer as the stable-boy gave Quarrel a smile and a nod, opening the back gate for them. The gate led out onto a small grass border facing the outskirts of a forest, rich with the songs of evening birds and the occasional owl hoot. As Quarrel led them into it, in a seemingly random path, Môr looked down and noticed that the grass seemed strangely lush on their way, and the earthy smell of nature magic grew a bit stronger. She questioned the Bandit about it. "What about the grass? Oh, yes, it grows back much faster than usual, to avoid leaving an obvious beaten track into the woods. Also makes it much harder to find your way out if you don't already know. If you'd wandered in here without me, you'd have been lost for a while before walking out the other side of the forest none the wiser. But because you have me here..." He stopped by a pool, turning sharply left and pushing aside some large bushes to reveal a large glade dominated by a few huge trees. Small houses and three or four larger buildings were scattered around, with very little obvious order to them. A few people still moved about, but most of the windows were lit and it seemed the majority of the population was indoors. It looked like a village that could house a few hundred people, although there was room enough in the clearing for almost that many again. The Briars were struck by the thought that they'd seen absolutely no trace of this settlement from their travels in the wood, for even though it was dense with trees, the clearing was lit and some bustle could be heard from the centre of town. Quarrel turned, hands spread wide.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> "Welcome to Clara."

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> <p class="MsoNoSpacing"> "Wooooaah?" Môr was awestruck. She had not seen such a large settlement like this for quite some time, the larger buildings were almost as big as the Great Hall in the Briar and there was a few of them. The young pup jumped on the spot with excitement and began at a pace toward the centre of town. She peeked through the glass of large bay windows, which encased an array of weapons and armour. Môr could hardly contain her excitement and called back to Landak. "Landak! Come quick! You will appreciate this shop!"

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Following Môr's call Landak trotted up to the window his eyes growing wide at the sheer amount of worked metal before him. "I...I'll find you guys later" he stammered as he walked towards the door.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Quarrel sighed, turning to Jira. "We'd better go keep them out of trouble..." he said, following the two outsiders as they began to draw strange looks. Jira chuckled at the sight of the pup and the fang, both gleefully exploring the town with wide eyes. She followed in Quarrel's wake, drinking in the sights of the town, but managing to contain her enthusiasm... Not only did they have a job to do, she had to make sure the other two didn't give the pack a bad reputation in their glee.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">Q uarrel stood near Landak as he drooled, hoping that he couldn't tell how many of the sheathed weapons were wooden practice swords, or that most of the rest had been stolen. He occasionally waved and offered an apologetic smile as someone would walk past, but most of the people had migrated to their homes or the inn by this point, and passersby were few.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Môr could see that Quarrel and Jira were on a mission; she tapped Landak on the shoulder and beckoned him to follow them. "Landak, we can look at weapons later" she promised. "So where are we off to now?" Môr asked Quarrel.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">Q uarrel smiled, thankful that Môr had distracted Landak before he could spot the obvious Breton lion on the pommel of the sword he was eyeing off. "We'll be heading through to the far side of town, to a grove where Thetis normally manifests when she wants to. It seems the most appropriate place to put a new tree." He started walking around the lesser-trodden paths between the houses, trying to avoid attracting attention, leading the Briars on a rather circuitous route out to the north. There was a large oval of immaculate grass, free of the patchiness and dirt tracks that characterised the ground in town. Up the far end of it stood an old oak, spreading branches twisting around each other and providing a lush green canopy. Quarrel walked slowly out onto the grass, head bowed slightly, moving with less confidence than he had been all day. He stopped and sat down in front of the oak. "Hey, Thetis. We were wanting to plant a birch tree in here, just down the other end of the grove. It'd be outside your circle proper, but near it, so thought I'd better ask if you objected. Do you?" There was a long, tense silence.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Waiting for the Hairy One had taken a while, but not too long that they were very far behind Quarrel and the others. The town was fairly quiet when they arrived, and Manni kept a close eye on the cart as they moved towards Thetis' clearing. Already she could feel Thetis swirling through the trees, watching and listening to her people. Soon their protector would be in the clearing. Coming up behind the main group, MacCulloch and herself sat down, watching as Quarrel waited silently. The cart was rested on the ground behind them, that same little robin bouncing around it. Manni was just happy her new friend had been allowed into their forest.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">J ira dared not interrupt Quarrel as he asked Thetis for her favour, but she stepped forward lightly and bowed low, her eyes closed. She hoped that Môr and Landak would follow her lead in giving Thetis the same respect as they would to the Ancestors. F ollowing Jira's lead Landak bowed low, unbuckling his sword and letting it fall to the ground for he knew steel blades were not the friends of the oak nymphs.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> MacCulloch stopped behind Manni and lowered the cart. He proceeded to ask 'what's your wee mate's name? I reckon you should call 'em Goodfellow' MacCulloch chuckling to himself.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">" He is yet to reveal his true name to me... But I think that would be a fitting name for the little one". She smiles as the robin chirps and sits on MacCulloch's shoulder, eyeing him before flitting back to Manni. <p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Quarrel sat for a little longer, chewing his lip and fidgeting. The oak rustled in a nonexistent breeze, the leaves whispering together in a strange approximation of a laugh, as a feminine figure composed of dark wood stepped seamlessly from the oak. She walked regally over to the group, stopping in front of the Bandit and looking over the Briars.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> "Thou hast led three strangers into the very heart of thine own family, and request to plant another spirit tree within the bounds of my protectorate. Why then art thou afeared? Think'st thou I might take some offense at thy presumption?" Quarrel began to slump, opening his mouth before Thetis cut him off.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">'' "Consider it my gift unto thee. The birch may be planted on the edge of my grove, and it shall thrive there." ''

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> With that, the dryad's wooden body faded into an effigy of brown leaves, which blew away on an unfelt wind, straight into Quarrel's face before dissipating into the canopy far above. The Bandit sighed and stood with slightly shaky legs. "There's your answer, Jira. Anywhere off this grass, and then do what you have to."

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> "Shall I fetch a shovel?" asked Manni.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Giving a silent thanks to Thetis for her favour, Jira straightened from her bow. "Ah Manni, you're back! And McCullough! Good to see you both. Yes, a shovel would be excellent, thank you." The setting sun streaked the remaining clouds with bandit-orange in the west, and the in the east a crescent moon rose silver in the indigo sky. Jira looked up and smiled - a good omen indeed. "Môr, would you help me preparing the spell please?"

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Following in Jira's lead, Môr looked up into the sky. She dropped and tilted her hear as if to question Jira's request. "Me?" she asked, "help with a spell?... I have never done magic before, but ok?! If you think so, Briar Shaman." Môr eager to help in the growth of the new birch was a little hesitant due to her lack of experience.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Jira smiled - "I do think so." Jira stood beside Môr, and placed the sapling into Môr's hands. "Close your eyes. Breathe deep. Trust your instincts." After a pause, the shaman asked: "Where should we plant the bedw bach?" <p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Resting the sapling in her hands, Môr looked back into the sky as if to ask for strength from the Great Eagle and the Oathmother Moon, which smiled upon them. She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. Then she snapped her head back into its true position, but looked blankly in Jira's direction. One step, two steps, then started at a pace toward the northern end of the clearing. Manni swiftly returned and a shovel is thrust into Jira and Môr's vision, worn but well made. "Have you chosen a spot? I'll start digging whilst you do your blessing thing."

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> "Won't be long... I didn't expect Môr to take to this so confidently on her first try." Jira whispered to Manni, pride for the pup clearly showing in her voice. Jira quickly gathered what she would need from her backpack - a pouch of some fine powder, her waterskin, her athame and a small chunk of quartz rock, before following in Môrgana's wake.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> <p class="MsoNoSpacing"> 'Môrgana. Môrgana.' A ghostly whisper pulled the young pup with unrecognisable force to the woodland. She saw her sprit Osprey perched upon a branch of a tree with pale white bark and deep black notches, watching out like black eyes. Suddenly, Môr was back in the ‘real world’. That was the spot where she should put the bedw bach. She sat quietly waiting for the others, taking in her surroundings. The glow of the smiling moon shone through foliage of the other trees that surrounded her and the little sapling. She could hear the trickle of a soft flowing stream, which was a little too far away to see in these lighting conditions. A few cheeps and chirps from birds ready to call it a night rang through the quiet wilderness. And Môr was alone with the bedw bach in her hands and her proud Osprey sprit perched in her mind.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Jira and Manni (and Robin Goodfellow) weaved their way through trees and soon caught sight of Môr sitting in a little pocket of open space. Jira beamed - this would indeed be a perfect spot. As Manni dug a small hollow for the sapling, and the robin perched sleepily on a nearby bough, Jira taught Môr what needed to be done to prepare the spell. Jira held the rock of quartz in her hands, imbibing it with spells of strength and stability, while Môr used the pouch of white-grey powder to cast a large circle around the place she chose, leaving a small gap just like the shaman said. When the hole was dug, Jira placed the charged stone and the sapling together in the hollow, and the three women together replaced the soil around the sapling and emptied their waterskins to give the sapling its first drink. "Should we wait for the men to arrive before I continue?" Jira asked Manni, as she brushed her hands off on her skirt.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> <p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Quarrel walked over once he saw the activity had ceased, trying not to get tangled up in any of that magic business. "Anything still need doing?" he said, leaning against a tree, shying away slightly from the magical paraphernalia.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> "Quarrel - if you're worried, I suggest you sit down for this." Jira said with a small chuckle. Jira took a deep breath, calming herself. "Môr, Manni, please leave the circle by way of the opening. Môr, close the circle once you're outside to keep the spell... and its consequences contained within." Jira waited for everyone to be clear, and for Môr to finish the circle with some more of the powder. The circle cast, Jira knelt before the little birch tree and felt a very tangible shift in the air, a kind of muggy heavy feeling - for the shaman knew magic is not thin and fluid like water, but thick and heavy... like blood. Her athame flashed in the last rays of the sun as she sliced her palm, splattering crimson droplets on the little sapling. Jira did not heal herself, but leaned forward, her hood falling over her head, and made a tiny cut on the sapling drawing the sap to the surface. With the blood of the tree and the blood of the shaman touching, her song could begin...

"For a long time our people, knew not of this story, The story of ages, from the land where we live. But there comes a time when we all come together  Where we learn what we've taken, and learn what to give.  The trees are our keepers, and they provide for us For theirs is our lumber, our food and our air But the people take much, and seldom return it, So I will give to you, all that I can spare Brother tree I sing for you, to grow strong and sturdy From something so little, to something much more. So stand a symbol for Eagle and Thetis... From little things big things grow. From little things big things grow."

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> As the sound of her song filled the clearing, Jira willed her words and her magic to guide the tree skyward... the sapling swelled rapidly, sprouting new leaves on new twigs, which swelled to branches as the trunk stretched taller... Jira stood as the tree grew, teaching it to stand tall and strong as she did, and as she planted her feet firmly, so too did the tree - the ground shifting and buckling as roots spread unseen beneath the soil, reaching deep into the earth, fed by the song and the crystal planted at its base. The green hue of the sapling faded to white as the tree thickened and swelled, and the tree almost glowed in the silver moonlight as the black eye like markings opened up, as if the new tree were waking up for the first time. Now well past Quarrel's height, the birch continued upwards towards the night sky, the bark splitting and reforming and splitting again as new wood expanded forth from its heartwood, and still Jira sang. She sang of balance, of giving back to the land as much as we take, and though her face was hidden in the depths of her hood, all could hear how firmly she believed in the words she used, and how much she would give for this new birch...

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Môr looked up at the birch, stunned at the pace it reached for the sky. Its white bark shone in the low lighting conditions of the early night, the black notches stark on the white background. She followed with her awed stare back down the trunk to Jira, who stood at the base of the trunk. Môr was unable to see the face of her sister Briarwolf, as her hood hung heavily on her head. Taking a tentative step forward toward the tree, Môr held her breath to listen and steady the excited beating of her heart.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> The birch stretched higher, pale green leaves sprouting in every direction, feeling the gentle wind for the first time. The young tree spread its limbs happily, reaching up to its full height as Jira's song reached its final verse. The birch had swelled from sapling to what looked like a tree 5 years old with Jira's help... but as her song finished, Jira leaned heavily on the bark, her hands no longer giving the tree strength, but instead using the strength of the tree to support herself. Exhausted from the task, Jira took a few moments to rest, leaning on the tree, before raising her head...

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> ... Dark circles ringed her eyes, and as she broke the casting circle, her hood fell back and showed the first of a few grey streaks in her hair. The Briarwitch was fatigued from the effort, yes, but all could see from the lines on her face that, in order to speed up the birch's growth by five years, she had taken from herself, and aged five years too. "...it is done. ... ... Landak? Quarrel? Some water, please... "

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Quarrel hurried forward, offering his waterskin, carefully stopping just outside the circle. "Jira, you're...is that reversible? Will it fade?" he asked quietly, concern and regret all over his face.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Still in awe at the power Jira wielded and at the massive birch now before him, Landak barely heard Jira's words. Upon seeing Quarrel move Landak rushed forward "Are you alright Jira?" he asked panicked at the sudden change in her appearance.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">" I'm okay, Landak. Just... ungh... a bit slower than I used to be." She smiled tiredly, and the crow's feet around her eyes crinkled. "The circle is safe now, the magic has dispersed." Jira took the waterskin gratefully and drank (though a little more than was polite) before handing it back to Quarrel. "Theoretically - yes, it's reversible. But all magic comes with a price - reversing this will cost a lot and I don't know if I want to pay that price." She looked up at the moon, thanking the Oathmother for her help... but the sudden vertigo made her lose her balance and stumble forwards.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Wrapping an arm around Jira's waist and slinging her arm over his shoulder, Landak supported her. "Quarrel, would you be able to take us to an inn nearby? It seems like Jira has fallen for me." Landak said to Quarrel jokingly.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">A ttempting to hold back a loud laugh, Môr snorts at Landak's joke. And then joins in helping to support Jira in her weakened state. Jira's head dropped forwards... not out of tiredness, but from giggling. She might have aged, but her brain certainly hadn't. Even in her tired state, Jira still managed to find the gap in Landak's armour and jab him in the ribs. "You git."

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">Q uarrel, feeling the tension drain, seated his face firmly in his hands. "And I thought I was bad...the inn's near the centre of town, you'll be fed well, probably on my tab. Rooms and their paying for are your own business, I don't know who shares with whom in this group." He stood and waved the group towards town again, keeping a few paces ahead and putting on a stern expression to deter onlookers.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> "Môr, if you could grab Jira's staff?" Landak called over his shoulder to the young witch behind him. M ôr unhinged from Jira's slung arm, leaving Landak to support her frail friend and swiftly collected the staff as to not be left behind. Jira reached for her staff as Môr trotted back over to the group - imbued with the magic of the Briar, her trusty staff had been with her everywhere - when she had it in hand she always felt a little more connected to home. Her knuckles were a little stiff this time, but Jira took the big old stick happily...  A sense of dread washed over her like a flame, she could smell burning, her ears filled with yells of a fight far away... "Landak, something's not right, something's happened to the- ahhHHH!"

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Suddenly Jira's head rocked back and her eyes flashed blue grey - exactly the same colour as Tara's. The Briarwitch looked through Tara's eyes and saw the carnage - she saw Ly'caelia almost out of arrows, Sairus battered and bloody, stumbling towards the fight, Kyphis darting forward, sword flashing in the starlight, Dayro ducking and weaving around, and Rexxar held in the clutches of... of a beast she couldn't even believe was real...

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Holding Jira steady in his arms Landak yelled "What did you see Jira? What was the message?" Landak knew well of the spell caused by ash and yew that had Jira in grips.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Quarrel spun suddenly at the noise, axe up and ready. "Is she okay? Will she need a healer?"

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Môr looked at Quarrel with a reassuring look, "I'm a healer." She then looked back at Landak and Jira with a little more worry in her face; she was just a pup and was unsure what to do to help her Briarwolf comrades.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Landak looked at Quarrel's axe wearily, "She will be fine, it is a message from others back home... depending on what is said we may have to leave tonight, is there any way we can negotiate for the use of two or three horses if there are any spare?" he asked concerned for his brothers and sisters.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Jira longed to help her family, but the spell allowed her no control of Tara's limbs - she could only watch from hundreds of miles away, powerless to assist from where she was on the other side of Hodenwold. As she watched, the pouch of ashes fell from Tara's hands, spilling onto the ground, and the blue grey of Tara's eyes faded away as the spell ended. Her eyes green again as she returned to the grove, Jira's voice shook with fear -  "The pack are in danger! They've been attacked by.. by.. " she struggled to describe the creature she saw... " something monstrous." Jira stared straight at Landak, terrified that her family would be killed "We have to head home. Now."

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Quarrel bit his lip. "There are some horses outside Clara, but they'll still cost you, even if I ask nicely...are you sure you'll be alright there, Jira?"

<p class="MsoNoSpacing">J ira prided herself on being independent, and hated having to rely on others for help... but right now she was in no state to journey unaided, let alone do it at speed. Jira was often told she was stubborn... but her fear for her family was so great... "Please..." Jira stood shakily, using her staff and Landak's arm to hold herself up. "Please, William, help us. We don't have much coin but we still have things of value - furs and leathers, scrolls, potions... jewellery." Jira hesitated, then reached under her cloak and retrieved a gold necklace, studded with green gemstones. It was a gift from long before she joined the Briars... but she would give it up if it meant getting back in time. "Please, William. You care for your people... help me care for mine."

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Quarrel stopped. "...nobody's called me William in a while." He shut his eyes slowly and grimaced, taking a couple of breaths. When he reopened them, they were slightly damp. "Fuck it. Let's go, the horses will be on me."

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> He dropped his axe, and with an unceremonious "scuse me" bent and wrapped an arm around Jira's leg, taking her wrist and hauling the slightly limp shaman onto his shoulders. He nodded towards the path out of town, setting off at a brisk walk, muttering under his breath for Thetis to give them a short path out.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> "What the- Quarrel! You put me- ...grrrrrr... fine." Jira fumed at being carried in such an undignified manner, but held her tongue. She had to admit to herself, even with her hair dangling over her face, that this probably was quicker than if she'd walked it herself. She locked eyes with Landak and Môr, and they knew simply from her glare that if they told anyone about this detail of their adventure they'd be brambled every day for a week.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Quarrel hurried down the track out of town, heading the same way as when they'd come in but somehow passing all-new scenery. The group passed over a slightly rotten bridge spanning a small river, and that confirmed to the wolves that they hadn't seen any of this entering the forest. The Bandit's pace was too quick for stopping to question, though, until he stopped to push through a shrub and the group found itself in front of the inn.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> He put Jira down and rolled his shoulders, groaning slightly. "There's three horses in the stables right now, but the paint horse is barely worth the hay it eats, so two of you are going to have to share. You sort that out, I'll be back." He hurried into the inn, and some shouting started.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> "I'll happily share with Jira" Môr said to Landak as she supported the Briarwitch, now back on her feet, "she will probably need help to ride anyway."

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Jira was silent as she lashed her staff to the saddlebags of the horse... she was only dimly aware of her surroundings as the images of carnage, injury and pain burned before her eyes. She barely heard Landak and Môr arguing the best route back over the sound of the shouts and screeches echoing in her ears. She hardly felt the hands helping her up onto the horse past the dull ache in her bones, numb with shock.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> It could have been hours... no, seconds?.. maybe minutes? Jira wasn't sure, everything was a blur... nothing was in focus, she could barely focus on the horse's mane in front of her as the edges of her vision grew dark, the only sensation was the cold fear that rolled down her spine, the dark coiling dread that they might get back too late...

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> Quarrel hustled back out into the stable yard, nearly losing a boot in the mud as he forgot to avoid the middle in his rush. "You're good to use these two; I reminded the innkeep how much he owed me for a couple of times- look, never mind. They're yours for now, return them when you can or I'll be paying for their loss." He nodded to Môr and Landak, grasping Jira's hand firmly with a worried expression.

<p class="MsoNoSpacing"> "Get to your people. Godspeed."