“This can't be the right way.”

A tall, lithe young woman in a red tunic murmured out loud. She was leaning against a tree with a worn map in her hands, turning it this way and that as if trying to change the contents. Her brow furrowed into an expression of deep thought, and her finger started to wind one of her coal black dreadlocks around and around.

“The map says ten miles from the river. We've been fifteen. I hope we didn't make a wrong turn somewhere. The last thing we need is to camp in unfamiliar woods. I still have the rash...” The woman scratched her upper arm reflexively, and looked at the large gelding that was calmly munching on some daffodils. “What do you think, Peony? Do we go forward, or try to make it back to the last town before full dark hits?” She realized she had paused, as if to wait for her steed's answer, and snickered softly to herself, shaking her head.

“I must be going mad from too much time alone. I keep expecting you to talk back.” Rubbing her horse's nose, she looked into the creature's docile eyes. “No, you're far too smart for that, aren't you? You keep your own counsel.” Unfolding the map, she looked it over once more, before folding it up and tucking it into her belt pouch. “Alright then, since it's up to me... Forward! Nothing is gained by delving into the past.” In one easy motion, she put her foot into the stirrup of Peony's saddle, and swung herself over. Settling into proper position, she took up the reins and nudged Peony's sides with her boot heels. The loyal animal nickered and started off.

Another hour of riding went by, and Kijani's worry started to wear away. She could see the signs of human now; firelight, the smell of smoke, people chattering away, animals and refuse... Yes, there was a city, alright. The forest fell away to reveal a sturdy wall of stone and wood, a nice barrier against any potential enemies. Far off in the distance, massive mountains stretched toward the heavens, gray with white-capped peaks.

After being waved in by the guards, Kijani slid from Peony's back to let her horse rest a bit, as she walked through town. Her eyes caught a carved stone sign. “Stevensdale. Finally...” Exhaling a sigh of relief, she sought the nearest inn with a stable. After paying for a few nights' stay and some meal for her horse, Kijani took time to brush down and feed Peony before going for a wash.

Even though she'd been at her new life for over five years, Kijani would admit she was likely still a bit spoiled. She hated to smell of sweat and dirt after a long stint of traveling, and she detested bathing in cold water. Even though she would do it if nothing else was available, she didn't have to enjoy it. Luckily she'd had just enough coin to pay for heated water- a small luxury for her now. In the past, it had been something that she'd never thought twice about, except to complain if the water wasn't hot enough. But then... nothing was gained by dwelling on the past. She had learned the value of warm water, a cake of soap, and a clean body.

Once she was suitably clean, she shined her leather armor. Her boots were getting worn, there was not much to be done about that. The rest of it, she oiled and polished to the best gleam she could get. Her sword got the same treatment; cleaning, oiling, polishing, and several minutes practice, just to keep her arm from getting rusty. Her blade was a strange one- or so she'd been told. It was almost the length of her arm, but light, with both edges sharp. It would not cut through a tree branch, but it could certainly shatter badly-made chainmail as if it were mere paper. Kijani's blade was made to move with her, to be agile and accurate, to strike and dance away, strike again and never be touched.

Then again, there wasn't much touching of any kind lately, was there? She hadn't seen any real action, combat or otherwise, in well over two months. Sure, there had been the wild boar in the small shire town. They'd paid her more in supplies than coin, but the boar meat had been tasty and Peony loved the local apples. She'd loved the mayor's son for a night- a decent night, but one a bit too short for her liking. Nothing interesting had happened since. No battle, no bedding, no nothing.

After laying her armor out to dry, she smoothed her spare red tunic and rust-brown pants, heading out of the inn to seek socialization. Her coin was running low, so she'd have to be easy on the drink. Local taverns were always good for something, though. Either she'd have a lead to something she could get paid for, or she could have a man worth warming her bed for a few hours. With a whistle on her lips, Kijani let the sounds of drunken jubilation lead her to the tavern.

Following the noise would lead her to a plain-looking building from whose windows the mixture of laughter, talk, arguments, and off-key singing poured out. Swinging over the tavern door was a crudely-made wooden sign depicting a dog upright on his hind legs in a sort of odd jig, and the painted words 'The Dancing Hound' scrawled beneath. Judging from the raucous voices within, it was popular enough, and inside the place was packed with common folk, many of whom seemed to be greatly enjoying themselves on the local ale and beer. No one gave her more than a cursory glance as she made her way in - most were too busy with their own concerns, anyway.

Here and there serving-girls moved between the tables with trays of drinks and food, and in one corner a skinny bard was playing a half-way decent song on his worn-looking lyre, but was mostly drowned out by the talking. Above everything else, the talking - of work and weather and the quality of the alcohol, and more of course. Plenty of callous-handed farmers and labourers here, packed around the wooden tables and exchanging tales and bawdy jokes, and a handful of transients, mostly sellswords and travellers.

Over at the counter, a gruff-looking barman accompanied by twin teenaged boys, likely his sons, was doling out tankards of drinks and plates of edibles to the serving-girls. Such types usually knew a thing or two about good leads, or at least where one could find someone who did. As well, there was bound to be some useful gossip to be gotten from the servers themselves - drunks tended to be quite loose with their words, sometimes usefully so. Or, if she cared to, there were a few of her own type hanging around - travellers with well-used leather armor under plain cloaks, with the occasionally-seen dagger at their hip, their odd looks and mannerisms marking them out from the crowd of locals as easily as crows in a flock of sparrows.

As well, on the wall near the door was a collection of flyers and posters tacked to the boards - official proclamations, wanted notices, things like that. Among the usual suspects of highwaymen, thieves, and murderers, there was a particular posting which had several of the adventurer-types crowded around to look at, muttering excitedly to themselves over the offered reward and the requested feat. Whatever it was, judging by the attention it was getting it was either something spectacular like a nobleman's kidnapping, or something totally outlandish with an equally wild reward.

Besides all that, if she was keen to find someone worth taking back to her rented room, there were a handful of choices - younger farmers, tradesmen, apprentices of every stripe - and surprisingly, more than a few were actually fair to good-looking. Though she might have to compete with the handful of other women about, not all of whom seemed to be married and at least two of whom seemed to be practitioners of the so-called oldest profession. Still from the looks of things she about had her pick if she wanted it.

All in all, a fairly ordinary tavern with fairly ordinary people, but with a little luck and effort she might be able to suss out a good opportunity, or at least find some comfort for the night.

At seeing the crowd of capable looking folk crowded around the notice board, Kijani frowned and went to take a look. She was a tall woman, about two inches from a full six feet, so she could see through most of the crowd once she pushed her way in a bit.

The notice that held center attention was quite striking. The paper was thick and rich, and in bold ink was written "REWARD!!!"

A good start.

"Brave, brilliant fighters needed to slay the great Shifting Beast! It takes many forms and will be a challenge for even the best warriors in the land! We implore you to become a hero of the people!"

The notice went on to give the location of the town in trouble. It was less than half a day's ride, to the northeast. Kijani noticed that it didn't have any detail on the actual reward, but that was usual. It would be a stupid thing to put on a public notice, the fact that there were riches and the location of said riches. It was like painting a target on your neck and walking onto a battlefield.

It was the last part of it that really caught her attention. Hero of the people. An intensely bold claim, but one that intruiged her more than anything else. Rewards were fleeting, any amount of gold could run out... But a name, but fame, but praise went on and on. They wrote songs about heroes, created stories, erected statues. She wanted that more than any treasure. She wanted to walk into a town with cheers surrounding her, and flowers thrown at her feet!

Kijani abandoned all thoughts of getting a bedmate for tonight. She would travel at first light. Once she was famous, men would line up at her doorstep for just a kiss! With a growing excitement, she rushed back to the inn and prepared for bed. Tomorrow, she would ride toward fame!

As it turned out, fame looked, at first glance, rather ordinary. In the early afternoon light, the town of Beckinsdale looked almost idyllic; there were no signs of damage or calamity, and if anything, the township seemed rather prosperous. Surrounding it were a number of farms, sprawled on the valley's lush and gentle slopes, with rows of orchard-trees visible in the distance. Along the well-worn road into the town proper, other riders and cart-drivers passed by, seemingly in a hurry. Within the borders, the cobble streets were neat and well-cared for, and most of the buildings were made of sturdy blackwood, with a fairly uniform architectural style suggesting either many of them were new or designed by the same person or group. Overall it seemed like a well-organized place, teeming with people as they went about their business. Though no one greeted her, most gave her a passing glance or two. However, the facade of tranquility fell away as she made her way through the market district.

Several stalls, or what was left of them, could be seen, having suffered severe damage. Workers were salvaging what they could of the wood and cloth of one in particular, but it was largely smashed to pieces, as if by something great and heavy being thrown down upon the planks. As well, people were clearly apprehensive of her, sometimes watching her suspiciously or moving out of her way when she approached. A young woman selling apples from a basket started to call to her, then hesitated, turned away and called out to someone else. The whole marketplace had a hushed and uneasy atmosphere unfitting for a place of business. People should have been bartering, advertising their wares, trying to catch the attention of potential buyers, but instead the conversations were hushed, conducted almost as if in secret. Now and again people would pause and look around, as if expecting something.

It was also there that she was finally approached - a boy barely ten or so flagged her down, scampering over and stopping her in spite of the fact that doing so blocked the foot traffic. Though a bit on the skinny side, he wore good clothing and didn't look too scruffy, so more likely than not he was no street urchin. Smiling cheerily up at her, he inquired "New shoes for ya pony, marm? My master's the best blacksmith in this town, and he's got the finest horseshoes ya coin can buy! And he'll put an edge on ya sword enough to scare even the ol' shifting beast!" Pointing off down a side-street, he continued, "Or fix up ya armor, whatever ya need, he's the man for it!"

Kijani let her gaze wander as she looked around the town. It was a nice place, to be sure, but there was a silent sense of dread that hung in the air. Something unspoken, something just under the surface of the beauty.

She didn't realize why until she hit the market district and got a glimpse of the damage. It looked like a stampede had been through. The scene was one of pure destruction, and she climbed from Peony's back to lead her horse through the mess. While she tried to smile to the shopkeeps, most of them seemed almost afraid of her. That was new, and Kijani wasn't sure she liked it. While she was fine with criminal types fearing her, and would even welcome being an imposing figure to a lawbreaker, she didn't like the looks that she was getting from the average townspeople. The whole place was incredibly tense, and she felt herself getting wound up in response, checking her blade just to make sure it was there and ready.

Her upbringing came in handy at the strangest times. From the time that she'd been old enough to wear a young lady's dress and hairstyle instead of a child's shift, she had been taught to read people's true feelings and intentions. The words they didn't say, the hidden meaning in tone and body posture. It was coming in handy here; even those who weren't cleaning up the stalls and were attempting to shop, they were tense, suspicious. They were bracing themselves for an attack, but she could see how worn they were, how the constant fear was wearing them ragged. The set of their shoulders, the way they walked...

This town was exhausted.

The little boy that appeared in front of her seemed rather immune to it. Kijani found herself smiling in response to his cheer. Children could be quite resilient, and they were so pure. “Hello, young lad. I do think I might take your offer of shoeing my dear Peony. Though, if it's quite alright with your master, I'd prefer to deal with my own sword.” While she was no expert blacksmith, she did know how to care for her own blade, and did so fervently.

She gently checked Peony's shoes, and figured that she may as well take the time to get her horse cared for. It would be better than pushing her faithful animal any further, especially while it was relatively calm.

“Lead the way, my boy.” She took Peony's reins and clucked her tongue, digging into her saddlebag and feeding her a leftover tavern biscuit.

"Just follow me, marm!" he cried cheerily, and scurried off. Every few feet or so he'd stop, check that she was following, and then hurry ahead, as if terribly impatient for her to get there. It was probably just the normal impatience of a child, but perhaps it had been some time since his master had seen any business, and the boy was over-eager to have a paying customer make her way there. In fact, more than once he was lost to sight, down the next turn or behind a small group of people, but he always reappeared. Until he didn't.

This last vanishing was around the final turn into a smaller area where a few craftsmen had built their workshops - along with the blacksmith, there was a leatherworker, a fabric-shop, and a small jewelry-maker, though the last seemed abandoned for the moment. A handful of locals were milling about, some talking business, some just passing the time. As before, they looked over her with the same anxiousness as sparrows look on a hawk, and scattered before her, though most made some pretense of leaving intentionally. By and large, the place was deserted, which made it all the more strange that the boy was nowhere to be seen. As for the blacksmith, he was at work on an outdoor forge, beating a length of iron into what would no doubt eventually become a sword. Even so, the blade-to-be looked almost tiny in his large hands, covered with thick, well-worn gloves. By the look of him, he had been at this trade perhaps his whole life, perhaps he had even, in some long-past season, been a boy at the heels of another smith, hawking his own master's goods and picking up tricks of the trade where he was able.

When she first approached, however, he gave no indication of having noticed her. Instead, he continued working the iron for a moment more until coming to a suitable pause, and at last turned to face her. While she explained her needs he listened intently, almost thoughtfully, and looked down to Peony's hooves a few times. When she mentioned his apprentice, a brief, dark look crossed his craggy face, quickly smoothed away, but there, however momentarily, nonetheless. At last he reached over and patted the mare reassuringly, and nodded. "I've got a three shoes ready, but the fourth's not done," he said at last, his accent dulled but clearly distinct from the locals. "Take her on over to the farrier cross town, may as well have her feet made good before you put new shoes on them." Looking further south, he continued, "Just follow the main road that way, can't miss the place."

Before she could leave, however, he stopped her again. "And marm? Best watch yourself carefully. I never had any lad working for me."