"There are too many people around to hear myself think."

Xena nodded before unintentionally zoning out their conversation. As Flydren spoke, her eyes would stray away from his from time to time, still searching the crowd for any signs of Vadik. She was trying to be subtle but was clearly doing a poor job of it. However, even with her lack of focus, she noticed that Flydren seemed to be distracted as well. Before she could bring herself to focus on Fldyren's words, something caught her eye, and Xena's vision tunneled. There—standing amidst the crowd—was Vadik.

Vadik.

The moment her eyes landed on him, everything seemed to fade into the background; She could only see him. And she could only hear her heart thumping as it quickened its pace. Xena released a breath she didn't realize she was holding. He looked just as good as she remembered. With his wind-ruffled black hair and his amber eyes, he looked ruggedly handsome and in control—just like a son of a Chief should. He looked even better than he did nine months ago—tanner and taller, leaner and more muscular. She had trouble tearing her eyes away from him, but she managed it.

By the time she turned her attention back to Flydren, he was already heading for his tent, and she was too distracted to bid him farewell. Xena took a quick glance at Vadik, making sure she didn't lose sight of him. Their eyes met for a brief moment before she looked away. Her heart was still racing and her palms were moist—she realized she was nervous. It had been awhile since they had last seen each other and each day, she had longed to see him. Now that he was right there, just a distance away from her, she was glued to her spot, suddenly unsure of what to do. It took her a moment to gather her thoughts and regain her composure.

"Kenzie," she spoke softly, seemingly stuck in a daze. "I'm suddenly not feeling well..I'll be resting in my tent. Don't wait for me, go and enjoy the festivities." Without waiting to hear his response, she steadily walked towards her tent which, fortunately, was situated near the edge of the campsite. She threw a quick glance over her shoulder before walking past her tent and heading for the woods at the edge of the valley. She knew Vadik would come looking for her in the forest like he always did, and just like always, she would play her flute, guiding him to where she was.

The Craenak arrived later than most, though such lateness was expected given the treacherous grounds they had to cover to reach the Gatherings. However, with the large number of accompanying escorts, the clan did not suffer any notable losses this year, a feat whose credit went to the young chief Viklaus.

Upon their arrival, Vadik was promptly dismissed again, this time on a mission to secure the perimeter of their campsite. He complied, but as much as he hated to admit, his mind was entirely somewhere else for the entire duration and so was his eyes. They kept wandering over the Abaneki’s campsite, searching, longing for a particular wolf mask. Her mask. Memories of better times looped in his mind, of scarred fingers threading silver locks, of honeyed eyes that mirrored his own, of velvet lips that burnt and were burning still in his chest.

Before he knew it, his task concluded, but instead of wandering off, Vadik prowled the campsite, purpose in his stride. However, he could hardly expect to waltz into the Abenaki’s campsite without meeting any opposition. The Craenak were still considered barbarians by many, and for good reasons. So there was little Vadik could do but curb his longings and wandering from camps to camps, feigning interests in the festivities. To make matters worse, the mercenary Floran had yet to contact him again. To the best of his knowledge, most of the mercenaries had either left the Gatherings or attempted to find work with some other clans. It was possible this mercenary had done the same, or not. Vadik would reserve his judgement for later. They had some time to plan, after all. Despite his boiling anger at whoever wished harm toward his beloved, Vadik prized his self-restraint, if nothing else. He would deal death when it was due.

A pair of amber stopped him dead in his track. He exhaled sharply, but refrained from holding her gaze. There were eyes on them. He watched her out of the corner of his eyes, noting her newly assigned guard. She watched him as well, before turning toward her tent. He waited moments before following, while still keeping his distant. It was their cue. She would lose the guard in some ways, then move deeper into the nearby forest, where they could be alone at last.

All he had to do was follow the flute.

Casting one last glance behind his shoulder, Vadik stepped in the clearing, and there she was, as beautiful as the day he met her.

“I kept you waiting again, did I?”- His voice was uncharacteristically breathy as he drew closer, gloved fingers reached out to catch a stray lock of silver.

The sun sank lower in the sky and disappeared over the horizon, the light of day draining away. The melody came to a halt when her eyes met his, her breathing caught in her throat as he reached out to touch her hair. Her chest felt warm and her breathing slowed, taking in the sight of him as if she was afraid he would disappear again. During his absence, she had so many things she wanted to say to him. Now that he was here within arm's reach, she wasn't sure where to begin. No amount of words were enough to show him how much she had missed him. She stood on her toes and wrapped her arms around him, breathing in his scent as his warmth washed over her. She pulled away and looked at him. "For the past nine months, yes," She narrowed her eyes to show him she wasn't pleased, but the smile on her lips betrayed her.

Vadik responded to her touch, wrapping his arms around her waist just as she reached for him. As she pulled him into a hug, he made use of the difference in their heights to press a light kiss on her silver hair, his touch tentative and feather light.

“I’m sorry.”- He said, and almost looked the part. One gloved hand reached up to her face and caress the line of her cheekbone with a touch that was barely there, almost in reverence. He would love to spend this moment here with her, just talking, but there were things they needed to discuss. – “Are you well? Is everything alright with your clan?”

It was hard to focus on his words when her gaze lingered on his lips. The evening had sent the birds to their roosts and the crickets began to sing in the swaying grasses. Above them, the sky was littered with a thousand stars, looking like splattered paint on a dark canvas. Xena noticed the look of concern on his face and slipped her hand in his, "There have been a few concerns lately, but we've got everything under control," she paused. "Is there something I must know?" she asked. His question gave her the impression that he knew something she didn't.

Vadik’s expression betrayed nothing, though his gaze grew intense. It was best that she was prepared, but he didn’t want to trouble her any further. Furthermore, if this information he had turned out to be nothing more than a drunkard’s ramblings, it could cause undue tension among the clans. The gods above knew they already had enough of that. – “I hear of unrest among the tribes this year, Xena. You should take care. Don’t leave without your escorts.”

A wry smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "Ironic. Considering that I left my escort to do this," she drew closer and cupped his face in her hands, planting a soft kiss on his lips. Xena's lips lingered on his for a moment before she pulled away and buried her face in his chest, letting a soft sigh escape her lips. "I've been wanting to do that," she said, in almost a whisper. She wanted this moment to last longer, but she knew she had to go back before her absence went unnoticed. "Please, don't make me worry again." She furrowed her brows, a tinge of sadness evident in her voice. She pulled away from him and quickly scanned their surroundings. Only then did she notice how dark it had gotten. The trees and bushes were almost nothing but silhouettes, the moon and stars only providing enough light for them to see. "We should head back," she said with reluctance in her voice.

---

A stab of worry went through Feir like a knife as he listened to his chief, some of which uncharacteristically showed itself on his face. ’What kind of nonsense has she gotten herself mixed up in now?’ he wondered, picturing various scenarios that could have landed her in a troublesome situation. Unfortunately, knowing Narcissa, there were all too many ways that she had caused the trouble in the first place, so it was difficult to try and work out what seemed to be the most likely case.

To any onlooker, Feir’s furrowed brow likely seemed to be in response to the chief warning that the princess had to be found, but in truth it was because he found himself wondering how the desert princess still had such a hold on him. Not that it really mattered right now. Because as the chief had said, if she wasn’t found, things would get incredibly messy for everyone once the Karill got involved, as they were quite the obstinate and violent lot when it came to protecting one of their nobility.

His mouth opened to tell the chief that he would search the woods for the princess, but the sound of a vicious growl stopped the words from coming out. It was an all too familiar noise to the wanderer, as it meant only one thing: something had found prey. With a quick jerk of his head, Feir faced the direction the noise had come from, only to see the heir of his clan had two wolves painfully attached to his limbs.

Without waiting for a word from the chief, Feir was moving fast towards the ridge. He was a blur of furs as he weaved past the handful of stunned onlookers, still momentarily shocked by the sight. They would be on his tail in a moment, he was certain, but for now he was well ahead of them. His hand went to his axe as he moved, only to find it depressingly light since he had never gotten around to replacing its head. Teeth ground against teeth at the realization, but there was no time to dwell on it.

The crest of the ridge was fast approaching, so instead he reached for his bow and drew an arrow with his other hand. Truth be told, Feir was not much of a fan of the idea that he may have to take such a risky shot, but it wasn't like he was flush with alternatives at this point. So as he reached the crest of the ridge, he nocked the arrow and prepared for the worst case scenario, his expression oddly calm at the task before him despite his misgivings.

But to his surprise, one of the wolves was already a sad, limp heap against a boulder, which Feir imagined was Rimgauge’s doing as the odd individual beside him looked like more bone than person. And as his attention turned to the stranger, he realized that they were in midst of attacking the other wolf that had grown a dangerous taste for the tribe’s heir.

So with a steady hand, Feir kept his bow at the ready. No matter if the twig failed to take down the wolf on his own or even if the rest of the pack showed up, the vagabond would ensure that no more harm would come to the battered heir.

Fæla tapped her stick on a log in front of her, testing it to see if it would stay where it was. It did, with some interest in her step and a smile on her lips she crossed the log while humming a tune. It was in nature where shew as happiest after all. Fæla was following the trail Xena usually took to see her beloved, she didn’t want to interrupt and she certainly didn’t want to walk in on anything, but she had missed Xena after the most recent tribe meeting and wanted to touch base with her before they made their way into the center of the valley. She carefully made her way through the forest, it was a little difficult to see and thought for a moment in regards to what she could do.

She decided a light rune would be in her best interest, just a small floating orb of light, like a bigger firebug. One to light the way for about a half an hour.

She breathed calmly, inwardly waiting to feel it. She began to channel her magic into the tips of her fingers, it was always helpful to channel it in to an extremity. With that magic she took one step forward, feeling the mana of the forest offer up resistance, she could feel the mana like walking into a sea. She simply took one step backwards and began to draw in the air. It was a tight formation, imagining a small sun that was harmless and offered up only it’s light for those who knew how to see it. She smiled as a wave of Mana crashed upon the shore of her consciousness. She let it flow back out to sea, and opened her eyes.

She continued to search for Xena, glancing around the forest. Finally, she spotted a familiar form and began to approach it.

“Xena! I wanted to chat with you!”

---

Éclair glanced behind her to find Fyldren. She immediately performed one of the most over-exaggerated curtsey’s ever witnessed by man. Giggling when reaching its apex.

“My liege.”

She said with a bubbily tone slipping into his tent now that she was able to enter.

“I’ve got just the stew for you then! Rabbit and some of my freshly grown herbs from my garden.”

Éclair bragged with a grin that Fyldren couldn’t quite see from behind her. She propped the stew pot up on the table and took two beautiful bowls that Fyldren must have gotten from some fancy guest at some point off of his time being heir to the tribe. She always got spears. Spears are nice, but bowls are useful. Éclair didn’t even like fighting with spears anyway. It all seemed rather pointless, especially when she already had more than she’d ever need.

She just wished she could get nice dinner tools. Like bowls, and spoons.

Éclair sighed.

She poured the stew into the beautiful bowls and handed one to Fyldren as she walked in behind her. She then immediately moved to the tea, preparing it with equal care grabbing two hollowed yak horns and pouring it.

“Cheers, to beautiful bowls and warm coals.” She said with a hearty laugh.

Azira had prepared ages ago for the moral quandary that was coming with the oncoming Gathering, but the benefit to all the events that were happening within the Karill tribe meant that there would be numerous occasions for her to fade away into the background and set up everything that needed to happen.

That meant one last night with the man of her dreams.

She’d given up on a happy life a long time ago. Back in the plains outside the Hollafoth clan as she held her dying father in her arms, and then decided to murder the man that took his life; that was when she gave up on ever having the things that she wanted. That being said, she couldn’t say that her past few years with the Karill had been appealing. Essentially having unbridled access to a group of rather prideful royals left her with plenty of time to work on her performance, to twist the people around, and make her presence known wherever she went.

She knew what they said about her, how people were afraid of that powerful woman that guarded their Clan leader. The woman whose beauty could destroy the hopes of any man. She’d played her role well, and she would continue to play that role for as long as she needed. But the Gathering always brought about thoughts of change, of growth, and transformation. In terms of age, she was approaching her middle age, and if she ever had a chance to try and gain a life that was more than pretending to be this dangerous slaver, this may be her only chance.

The Clan Leader told her she was free for the Gathering. As he prepped to marry off his daughter, Azira really had no need to hang around. Grabbing a small slip of paper, and her white mask, she slipped it onto her face and wandered out into the dusk hours, past the numerous campgrounds that were set up, and the central fire, where children were already gathered around story tellers and travelers, who shared their journeys and crafted brilliant stories about the Gods above. The children from all the different clans gasped and giggled at the stories these performers crafted, and Azira had to remind herself there was a task at hand before she became enthralled herself. She missed the days when there was joy in performance.

Instead, she spent every day as a performer, and it threatened to become her.

She shook her head, and pulled her hair back as it dangled down her back. Her sandaled feet tapped lightly against the dust as she walked with purpose past the camps. She heard whispers flying around about a missing Narcissa, but Azira thought nothing of it. It was not unusual for Narcissa to walk off on her own for whatever reason, based on what her father said.

No, her focus was somewhere in the Craenak clan. She’d heard that a certain mercenary had been travelling with them recently… It had been a long time since they last saw each other.

Quietly she dodged the eyes of people moving past as she pulled her mask off of her face. She’d used it as a symbol before. An icon to represent the night the spent together last. Hopefully the rugged man would know what it meant. It took a few moments, but eventually she found what she was looking for.

A small tent just on the outskirts of the encampment. A soft grin came to her face as she wandered into Floran's tent quietly and lay the mask on the ground.

She was unsure what would come of this. Her brain was playing numerous contingencies, planning multiple exit plans… she never let her guard down, for even a second.

“Whatever deity is listening,”
she muttered under her breath, “let this Gathering decide my future.”

Despite the heaviness of your limbs you rise to the challenge and raise your bow. You're a Longear, after all - this is what you do, magical ailment or no. You hold the string taunt and aim, straight and true.

No doubt if you were fully battle-ready this would of been the perfect shot, an arrow that lands between the eyes of your enemy during battle. As it is you account for your slowed reactions, factoring in wind speed and distance as you shoot. The arrow whistles through the air and embeds into the target, a highly respectable shot that draws the attention of clanmen not used to witnissing Longear archery.

and this is you on a bad day. The newer Longear recruits seem both impressed and a little daunted by the prospect of having to match your skill.

---

---

You leap forward into action, but the wolf is a wiley one, and it's shaking Rimguage's leg like he plans to rip it off. You misjudge the leap and, seeing the ground rising up to meet you instead of your intended target, land into a light roll - you didn't want to risk tumbling down the ridge, off-kilter, with your daggers out, at risk of hurting yourself.

You land beside the creature, but it seems to only have eyes for Rimguage's delicious leg.

---

---

Persephone threw the torch, but her hands were shaky and she misjudged the distance in her desperate desire to get Nissa to safety. What happened next could only put her in harms way further.

The torch fell and rolled towards Narcissa's beautiful dress, catching it alight. Licks of flame curled up the fabric, starting from her feet where the hem had caught. The fire had yet to brush her skin, but she could feel the heat radiating off of it, granting her brain control once more of her body - this time, permanently, for the creature had other concerns. The arrow whistled past both the goblet, Nissa and the beast, missing all targets - for good and ill.

A thorny branch shot forth and ripped the bottom half of her dress off below the thigh, sweeping up the material and tossing it into the dirt. Narcissa was pulled close to his barky mass, a large curve of wood pressing against her back and pulling her towards him like a huge hand. A huge wooden mass crushed the fire into the ground, and now both humans could see the magical beast was exceptionally annoyed.

It's bark distorted into long drawn, frozen screaming faces as the bark cracked and groaned. It stretched upwards, growing taller and taller, it's shoulders stretching across the clearing until it blocked off half the canopy above, towering over the sacred circle and all within.

"Intruder!" it bellowed, Narcissa standing at the foot of the giant creature, unnoticed as it turned it's attention to Phe's hiding place.

"Do you think I don't see you, cowering there? Do you wish to kill my wife so much, foul assassin?" It prepared a huge wooden fist and plummetted it towards Persephone's location.

---

---

A small ball of orange light, about the size of your palm, rises lazily into the air beside you, illuminating your path. It is silent and a little slow, but you find you have some control over moving it - willing it one way or another moves the orb to either side of you, though the magic seems to have a mind of it's own sometimes. A simple rune, but perfect for your use.

The forest is filled with magic and magical creatures, and you catch a flash of green in the forest to the far right of where you are above the treetops. Luckily whatever magical creature was inhabiting the enchanted forest today was nowhere near Xena and her lover, though you can't deny the strong sense of magic in the air.

Magic and malicious intent, that is.

You see two forms nearby and call out as you make your way towards them. As you approach, gale force winds push you back, and you hold your arm up to your eyes for a moment. You look up to see the area wrapped up in a snowy cacoon, the wind gone. You could reach out and brush your hands against it, touch it, and it is cold to the touch like a blocked doorway in a snowstorm. The sound from within is muffled and near inaudible.

A flash of a moment and you feel the strange, normally-invisible barrier dissolving. Whatever creature put this here intended to keep you from interfering. You see a flash of white dissapearing into the forest, but that doesn't concern you as much as the scene you see before you.

The clearing is covered in thick ice and snow. Vadik is holding his arm, but more importantly, Xena is thrown to the floor behind him.

---

---

The temperature is cooling and the stars glitter above your head as you dissapear into the forest, unaware of the dangers affecting other Clan heirs this night. The leaves rustle quietly in the evening breeze, a light chill in the air. The wind whistles through the branches, touching them with white. It tips the leaves and dusts across the cracks thin icy trails.



Ice begins to crack and curl around the trunks of trees, slithers of it snaking across the ground towards you in huge swaithes of frost and snow. Soon even the ground beneath your feet is as white as if it were winter. Before you have a chance to react, you are suddenly buffetted by an icy, gale-force winds. The wind origionates from the path back to camp, pushing you back, denying your exit to safety. A cackle on the wind and you see her - them - the girls of ice, darting between the trees in their long, white dresses. You wouldn't have even noticed they brought the sudden winter gale, if it hadn't been for Vadik's battlehardened sense of danger and Xena's intuition.

A sense of dread fills Xena, suddenly hit by an image of getting hit by an icicle. She turned to the side quickly as a wicked looking thing zipped past where she had just been standing, embedding in the tree behind her, narrowly missing her and Vadik both. For a minute there's a sense of relief - but another sling of cackles on the wind bodes ill. She turns to Vadik just as the second icicle, hidden in a flurry of wind and snow, slices itself through and deep into his left forearm. Something felt off.

Dark blood splatters the white snow beneath their feet.

But Xena did not have time to attend to Vadik, for the creatures had other plans. The icy winds buffetted her, knocking her off her feet, such a small, lithe girl - but that was not their intention. For the temperature had dropped substantially, and the fingers of frost now curled around her body, her skin growing paler then usual as they wandered up her spine and caused her to shiver.

You were suddenly very cold, as if the innermost part of your being had been replaced by an iceberg...

Rimguage stood a little taller as the beast tore into him, reminding himself - as beads of sweat trickled down his face at the violent thrashing - of the times he deliberately thrown himself into danger to protect someone else, and how much of a beating he could take.

Sure, this ferocious bastard had chosen him, and it had taken him by surprise, and his leg was very quickly being ripped to shreds and he could very well lose it, and it wasn't by any stretch of the imagination his choice, but at least he could pretend he'd valiently dived in front of his strange new aquiantance to take the hit.

Which wasn't true at all, but at least it made him feel better. He raised his staff once more, wincing and grabbing his right arm with his left hand as he did so, to attempt to strike the beast once more. But blood oozed from his recent wound and his hit swept through the air above the creature's head with a woosh.

The Wolf had an excellent grip and the pressure of it's jaws increased, but Rimguage was still standing - somehow - as it attempted to drag him to the ground in an effort to jump at his throat. As it was he kept his balance, for now.

Relmir muttered a curse under his breath as the hefty old man crested the ridge behind Feir and overtook him. There was only so much a man could take of watching his only child get slowly devoured by a wolf - a wolf, no less, but by all accounts it was deeply shameful for a Wolfrahg heir to get killed by a wolf. This was no doubt an ill omen for his clan - a punishment? divine intervention? He couldn't help but thinking that deal he dealt with the shamans all those years ago to have his only son was being frowned upon by those above, and this was the sentance they were dealing. But he could not, would not, allow this retched creature to take his child and clan's future. Not while he could do something about it.

Still, as he thundered over to the scene, kneeled and grabbed the wolf by the skull and scuff as it frantically shook Rimguage's leg - Rimguage crying out, was he trying to get his leg ripped off?! - the beast suddenly let go, just like that. Rimguage teetered but did not fall, though he looked dazed as he watched the beast and man rolling across the ridge.

It spun it's head and writhed out of Relmir's grip, snapping at his father as he fell back to the floor with the beast on his chest, clawing and biting the air as Relmir ducked his head back in an attempt to keep his head on his neck. It ripped at his tunic and tore at his furs in an attempt of finding the sweet flesh beneath, the blood of both son and father dripping from it's jaws and splattering across the face of his prey.

"Father!" bellowed Rimguage as he raised his stave once more, but he was feeling dizzy and his stave shot round him in an arc, pulling him with it, until he too was on the floor, his back to the fight. His eyes rolled upwards as his vision blurred, and he stared up into the beautiful night sky, the sounds of his father's shouts mixing with the scattering of claws and snapping of jaws. His tattered wound oozed blood, tendon and bone clearly on display for the world and all it's troubles to see.

Before his vision faded to black, he couldn't help thinking how beautiful the stars were tonight.

Location: Near the outskirts of the 'Gathering' - Able to see the tall mountains.
Interacting with: @Dusksong - Eilidh, @Write - Éclair, @McHaggis - Flydren.
Mood: Inertness -> Drowsiness -> Apprehension

---

Kanza's eyes opened wearily, the familiar smell of dirt and herbs entered his nose, his eyes slowly dulled recognising the interiors of the tent to be his own tribes. His mind silently sighed in relief, and his tensed body relaxed. He still gelt sluggish and slow, but the throbbing headache had slightly subsided, still present but he would be able to will himself through it. Turning his head he saw Eilidh, the tribe's apprentice healer, the person who would one day become the head healer. A tremendous responsibility.

With her head burrowed in her hands, he could almost hear Darragh's harsh and unforgiving tone, with a struggle he sat up slightly,



Instinctively he rubbed the bottom of his lips. The pain stung when it made contact, his jaw flinched and he quickly flicked his hand away. There were bandages covering his lower jaw.

What in Artemis' name happened to me?

He tried to gather his memories, trying his best to recall what he was seeing when the lake turned a shade of otherworldly gold. However his mind protested, the dull throbbing turning into full-on pain. Fortunately he still could remember the basic idea of whatever he had seen. It was a conversation between two figures, whom he could not recall the visages from and trying to do so simply invited the deafening throbbing back. What he didn't know was the purpose.



After a few moments, he finally placed his feet on the floor. The initial feeling of lethargy slowly easing it's grip on Kanza. With another groan he unsteadily got up, his gait slow as he made his way towards his bow and quiver. He just couldn't sit still and rest after an event like that, despite the initial protest of Eilidh. Though he did invite her to tag along if she were that worried.

Parting the drapes, he figured out they were already at the gathering. His eyes trained on the Wolfrahg and Longear arm in arm, drinking and laughing the day away. A few Abaneki's Craenak men exchanging stories of girth. This atmosphere was one of a place coming close to a festival. As he parted their drapes a few looked in his direction, some wolf-whistling, only to be elbowed by another Longear and explained who Kanza was in hushed tones.

He sighed, his brow creased slightly. He had almost forgotten how it vexed him to deal with large crowds of people, especially those itching for the festivities to begin. Although, amidst the whispers of 'pretty woman, must be a longear' and 'a woman with a bow' he heard one which stopped him in his tracks.

'Have you heard? Princess Narcissa has disappeared'

Kanza felt the wind knocked out of him, his eyes swam on the crowd before locking onto the figure who said it, marching towards him with such fierce trepidation that the man whom had said it recoiled in fear.



After a moment he finally let the boy go, massaging his brows in frustration. The Princess being missing could topple and may even ruin this whole gathering. He would be willing to help in finding her, but in his state, he may be more off a hindrance than of real help. However that didn't mean he couldn't enlist help from his own tribe, or maybe his scant friendships.

---

After awhile he found himself in the area the Longears have stationed themselves in. He glanced at his hands, which still shook slightly. As if to confirm his fears, he walked into the range to test out if he was fit to use his weapon. There were bullseyes lined up next to each other, each distance varying. It was mostly Longears using their range but you could find a few people from Wolfrahg, Abaneki', Hollafoth, Roamwyn and even Rumasra's scattered all about. A few even holding a mock competition.

All of them were occupied, so he picked one at random. One with a Longear, Wolfrahg and Roamwyn. All but the Longear sprung up voices of complaint,


Kanza didn't bother explaining the truth, he didn't want to deal with that at the very moment. He only had an annoyed look brandishing his bow. Pulling an arrow from his quiver, and lining up his shot. With an eye closed his breathing came to a deathly halt, and with the string taut he let it go. The arrow cut through the air tremendous speed, so much so that it produced a distinct howling whistle, a whistling only attained by archers of the highest caliber. The whistling even caught the attention of some goers, heads turned towards the sharp, hypnotizing sound.

It landed directly at the bullseye, to the untrained eye it would seem that this shot was indeed flawless, however Kanza's brow furrowed faintly. The shot was just slightly, slightly off the intended trajectory, vexing him and turning his expression even more icy. The Wolfrahg and Roamwyn jaws flew agape, and the Longear accompanying then just had his face buried into his palm. Kanza turned around and began walking towards the exit, towards the main encampment of the Longears. As he did so he passed by the trio.


After a moment's pace he reached the main tent, and headed straight for the tent of Flydren seeing as the chieftain appeared busy, dealing with other important affairs. As he parted the drapes, two figures stood before him, the champion of the tribe, Éclair and (as much as he renounces it) soon to be chieftain of the Longears.

The meeting with Alexis had left the slightest of sore tastes in his mouth. He wasn't sure why, but something told him that whatever she was doing was going to be trouble. He knew her as a kind girl, and would hate to see her hurt. However, he couldn't simply drag her out of that situation. She had her own choices to make, but Floran did not have to like the consequences they would bring. Maybe he could convince her later tonight.

He looked up at the clouded sky, his eyes weary, and sighed. Something was going to go horribly wrong. He could feel it in his ageing bones. He just wasn't sure what. Would it be the whole situation with the Abaneki? Maybe Alexis? Or was trouble brewing from the cursed clans? Or maybe he was simply wrong on all accounts. This last option maybe frightened him the most. One did well to fear the unknown. With an irritated groan he discarded the thoughts. He'd look out the Craenak ally he had made this evening, but first he felt the need for a short respite.

Floran's test embodied his modesty and practicality. It was all function over form, but by no means shabby-looking. It was definitely on the smaller side, but that wasn't much of a problem with just him alone. But he couldn't help but notice that the tent didn't really seem like he had left it. Was there someone with a bad habit of rummaging through the tents of another? Well, he'd soon find out.

Her plan had been to leave behind the memento and then sneak away, but she found herself reminiscing as she moved into the tent. The first time they'd met and she'd had a chance to smile without worry of hurting her delicate persona or her dropping her false mask. It smelled like him, if she was being honest. Her olfactory senses dragging up memories of that tough, travelling warrior. One of the first people she'd met that hadn't tried to take advantage of her, but even then there was something about him that was significantly disarming. Even now, the sparsity of the space reminded her of his ability to travel the world without the fear of others. Her only hope of surviving this lethal wilderness was aligning herself with a position of power. Power really was the only secret to survival.

For a moment, she believed that she'd overstayed her welcome, when she glanced down at the mask on the floor and realized that more time had passed than she had predicted originally. But it was exactly at that moment that she heard movement from outside the tent.

Damn it. she thought. She dove for her mask and threw it back on her face, even if it left her sitting on the ground in a rather compromising position.

As Floran closed in on his tent, he could definitely hear the noise of someone's presence inside his humble abode. Well, whoever it was, the only way out of there was to go through him now. He rushed in rather quickly, hoping to catch whoever had invaded the little privacy his tent offered off-guard. Yet, it took but a second of two for his usually determined and composed expression to show clear surprise. That mask wasn't an image he had forgotten, and he probably wouldn't until the day he died. "You found me?" He muttered, his voice soft and somewhat shocked, but with a delicate touch of happiness.

Her heart raced, petrified that she may be caught by some other member of the clan, but then he burst through the front. She was half-prepared to retaliate with the knife strapped to her side when her eyes met his from under the mask. She left out a breath of relief.

"Lords, Floran... your presence is more daunting than ever..."

Slowly, she pulled the mask from her face, revealling the soft smile underneath. It took her a couple moments to try and retain the strange eye-to-eye connection they had, and only a few moments more to realize that she'd barely tried to move away from her position on the ground.

"Yes, it took a little bit of asking, but when the clans gather, it is quite easy to find who you're looking for if you know how to ask the right questions." she responded quietly.

Her smile remembered how difficult it had been initially to see her small lips move upward even the slightest before. Something in him fluttered slightly simply seeing her react as such to his mere entrance. "I guess I'm not the most common person around, indeed. He said with a bit of a grin. Mercenaries with his ethic and longetivity both were rare these days, especially in combination. But he discarded the topic the mere instant after. What wasn't important was how she had found him, it was that she had.

He still wasn't exactly sure what it was that had brought the two of them together. The woman was positively stunning. And while he considered himself not the ugliest duckling, he never saw himself as especially handsome. Sure, he had developed the body you expected from nearly a decade of work, but that wasn't what retained a jewel like her, surely. She had something enticing to her, something that wasn't just a pretty face. She had a sense of mystery, a part of herself that was normally well-hidden. But he had seen it, and he was certain of the beauty in that part of her that made her physically pale in comparison.

She soaked in the moment. Looked up and down the rugged man, glanced at his sturdy muscles and his handsome face. The righteous sense of wisdom that seemed to resonate off of him just made the entire persona she'd created for herself crack. She was holding onto that moment as long as possible, for the next level of conversation could bring them closer together, and send everything crashing to the ground. But being here with him, in this moment... and realizing the whole world meant little to the strength that would come from this pair of experienced people. Maybe that would be stronger than this role she had crafted for herself.

"I'm growing tired of these Clan affairs, Floran," she said, starting with an earnest statement felt like the best way to lead into this, "And seeing you again... has been the most rejuvenating experience I've had in a while."

Floran smiled a little as he started closing the distance between them little by little. Not that there was much to begin with, this tent would definitely be too large for three people to be comfortable. But since it was Azira, he felt more comfortable the less space they shared. "You're not the only one. You'd think being a traveler would free you from that. But I can only find truth in the contrary." He said as his arms envelopped themselves around her. "Luckily, my place is completely neutral ground"

Her smile grew into a devilish smirk as her hand reached up and brushed against his battle-hardened face, and she pushed the mask far out of the way in some direction, she wasn't sure. That smell came to her again. The strong, rugged scent of the dust-beaten traveller seemed almost hypnotic in a sense. "Neutral ground, you say? Alas, I can't take one step without bumping into the people with whom I've survived. Gods, how I'd love to share that position of neutrality." she said with a melancholy laugh at the edge of her voice.

Her other hand moved to his other cheek, and her fingers pulled themselves around the sides of his face, pulling him closer ever-so-slightly.

Floran looked at her wonderingly. "I'm not sure what you mean." He admitted. The truth was that he knew preciously little about her life, much as she hardly knew the details about his. "But there's none of that here, and as the king of this country, you're permitted to enjoy your stay for as long as you wish." He said, smiling genuinely in an attempt to bring her the happiness that he couldn't hear in her voice right now. As she pulled him closer, he gave her a soft peck against her lips, a simple gesture of the affection for her that still lingered within him.

Her smile grew wider. Perhaps this conversation would have to wait for another day "Well then, 'Your Majesty'," She giggled, almost ashamed of herself for sounding so naive once more, "Nothing would make me happier than this moment."

She returned the favour. Another kiss, this time longer, lingering as she let her thoughts fizzle away in the bloody passion that threatened to leap out of her body. She questioned whether she was thinking straight. She wondered if shue could simply see herself leaving with this man, after all that she'd done. But she realized now that, for once in her life, there was a decision that could truly be hers. But the question was whether or not she could get Floran to see it the same way.

He chuckled slightly in response. "Then the lady gets her moment." He quickly uttered before he could speak no more. His mouth was too occupied and his mind wiped from any further thought. He wondered what went through her head. What exactly did she want from him? The two of them had barely gotten to know each other. Heck, this was actually even their second meeting. Yet he couldn't help feeling enticed by the presence before him. Their previous meeting had simply been a taste that he wanted more of, that he wanted to know more off especially. He wanted to get to know her, beyond simply the basics of a nice smile and sweet words. He wanted her thoughts, to know them. How did she think about him, about them? What did she want from him? His blanked mind was now filling with so much questions. He prayed to the gods that these were answered today.

However, the more he thought, the more his body was taking away control from his mind. He hardly realised it that during their kiss he had already pushed her onto her back. Whereas his mind definitely wanted to know more, another part of him was just simply asking for more, simple as that.

She felt it happening, too. Her back pressed against cloth on dirt, her eyes scrunching up as she felt him moving forward. She swore she could sense a switch going off, like man becoming a passionate beast as she let her eyes remain shut, and wondered how long it had been for this man. Suddenly, a sense of shame overwhelmed her. No... this was not fair... but Gods did she want it to happen. Her fabricated self, the dangerous slave master desperately wanted to keep her mouth shut, but somewhere in that chaos she sensed one reason why she was so enamoured with him.

Wasn't she trying to escape this other version of herself?

"Floran..." she gasped, pulling away for a second, "Please... wait..."

Her hands moved around his arms, and she gently tried to ease them away. Her delicacy was almost akin to the delicacy of dismantling a trap, or weaving her way into diplomacy, or the many other ways that she'd evaded, dodged, and crafted in order to survive... With risk, and pain... it was time for her to take a chance on revealling herself. Something that hadn't happened to anyone yet, at this moment in time.

The mask had to come off. Tears pricked her eyes, but she would power through.

Floran in her presence was definitely passionate, but he was not driven by instict alone. Her mere voice woke him from the trance he had momentarily been put into by courtesy of his own spirit. Stopped in his movements he looked down at her, just to read her expression. What he saw wasn't relunctance or fear of his touch. No, of course that couldn't be it now. But he could see the subtle uncertainty that was accompanied by the onset of slightly reddening eyes. Worry, a whole lot of it. Maybe his mind was getting its wish today. He gently moved away, then offered his hand to help her upward.

The air changed slightly, the warmth of his body still so close even as he pulled away. Her hand met his as she was pulled into an upright position. The white mask taunted her from the corner of the tent as she willed herself to make eye contact with this passionate man. She took a moment, caught her breath, closed her eyes for only a few seconds as she tried to put it all together. This was a time for honest words, true, but the way they were said could make all the difference.

"My father had only two wishes for me when he was alive," she began. These were stories she would have killed people for overhearing, but this was different.

"One: He wished that I would live a long, fulfilling life, doing whatever it took to make it through one day after another... and secondly, that I would find a way to turn that into happiness. Unfortunately, as I'm sure you know. Happiness and Survival don't often come hand-in-hand."

Softly, her voice gaining momentum, she turned to Floran with a simple, quiet smile, "Do you know which clan I hail from, Floran?" she asked

Floran softly shook his head. The topic had never truly come up in the limited conversation they had enjoyed before. To him, her heritage was something that mattered little. He looked at her as the person she presented herself as, not the past that she didn't tell him. But he wasn't going to refuse hearing out the words weighing on the heart that seemed troubled simply uttering these words to him.

Her smile didn't change. Sadness and stoicism mixed together on her face, and she hadn't really ever stopped to process how sad her life had been until the words began to tumble from her lips: "Well, usually I tell strangers that my presence is from the Longears, an easy assumption to make because of their common... physicality. In reality, I was born to two Rumasran parents in the southern marshes, though our travels and hardships... have led me to take refuge with those of the Karill."

She paused. Trying to gauge the man's reaction. The name of the clan alone was usually enough to sour the reactions of many. Even with that wedding happening soon, she knew that they weren't looked upon too kindly.

Floran's expression visibly cringed slightly at the mention of the name. It wasn't enough for a change in expression, but the name did clearly stir up something of an emotion. "I admit, my relations with the Karill are...poor." He sighed a little. "I'm not going to reject you for that. One person is not responsible for their clan's actions." He shook his head a little, matching his expressions with his words.But what he was saying was rather basic. Honestly, he felt it was a meager revelation for something that brought distress to a face of a woman as emotionally sound as she was. Something in him told him that he had met the mouse, he was about to meet its tail.

"I suppose that was the easy part..." she sighed. A smile remained on her face, though it was clear that it was meant more to stifle her pain than anything else. Even at this intensity, she refused to cry. That was something that they would not see until she knew for sure that this was real.

Because no man or woman would be forgiven for seeing her tears.

"I will say that the connection to the Karill may not have been... honest," she muttered softly. "It is very difficult for a woman, especially a woman performer, to have independence within the Karill tribe. It has to be... earned. Which is very different from the Rumasra I'm told..."

Though she was clearly avoiding saying the words directly, Floran had a bit of a hunch where she was going with this. If there was one thing particular about the Karill, it had to be that. "I guess you're telling me you aren't simply a very skilled jeweler or silkweaver that worked her way onto the ladder." His expression displayed a clear unease, an uncertainty, but he wanted to hear her say it directly. His eyes did not stray from hers from a second, showing a mix of their usual empathy with a clear, somewhat unprecendented dissapointment or sadness, maybe a bit of both.

She stared back at him. Warmth was beginning to drain from the room as she felt her own identity like stone against her features. Each next word was imperative, but also likely a judge of the man's character. Was he a man of forgiveness? For surely she was not. The wild made her hard, she realized. Ruthless and aggressive.
So, to demonstrate the point, she reached to both sides, and pulled out a pair of sharp, blindingly silver knives. Reminders of her fathers, and of her heritage. The were cleaner than a knife had a right to be, but she imagined that she could still see them stained with the men that had tried to wrong her. In one hand, she started to twist the blade around delicately, sending in small spirals around her fingers over and over again, while with the other she flicked with extreme precision, so much so that it wedged itself into her white mask on the floor in the corner.

"They are useful for jewelery, yes," she said coldly, like she was balancing on an arrow point, "But they have saved my life from many a disgraceful fate... and ruined the lives of others.

I'll say this now, because I know it's what your looking for... my fate in Karill was assured once I arrived with the blood of my ex-captors on my knives and a number of people in shackles behind me. Because my other option was night after night of people using me for their own pleasure, denying me what my father wished for me, probably ending my life several years before we would have even had the chance to meet!"

At some point the words had become brutal, and honest. Sharper than the knives she held. No one knew the power of words better than she, because she had to use them as a weapon for the majority of her short life.

Though a realization in tone brought her voice down again. Quiet, shrivelled. "And every day after I would pray to the deities, that perhaps Aurea could forgive me, or even that, dare I say it, Sigma may take that darkness away from me... I'm unsure of whether they answered, or would answer..."

Floran was silenced for a few seconds after she had finished, clearly overthinking his words very carefully. He closed his eyes for a little, Something within him was passing some kind of judgement, and he was trying to feel exactly what this judgement was telling me. He could feel it in his heartbeat, the sound of someone telling him to do what was right. The sound that was always there, yet usually quietly snuck into his every thought that was so. And surely it did the same this time again, but it did so bombastically. Could a heartbeat truly tell someone what was the option of the right? Well, apparently his could. "Surviving is not a sin, just like the predator must kill prey." Floran started for a second. "Or how a prey kills predator to defend. Even if that prey must do it over and over. I have killed many beast and men for deplorable actions. I'll tell you honestly, whereas other people get... unfeeling to it, I always find a distaste in ending lives. Tell me. Your killings, your shackling, did you enjoy any of it?" Floran's fierce eyes did not lie, he wanted her most genuine response. -

She paused for a moment. Did she enjoy it? She could remember the man's face as he came down to lay with her after felling her father, and how wide his eyes went when her knife smashed through his chest, or the way that those slaves stared at her, like she was dangerous, like she was not to be trifled with... but did she enjoy it?

She had to admit that she had a certain lust for power, that it enticed her and drew her towards it like a horse to its rider, but for her, that wasn't joy. There was no joy in taking power away from someone who had none, or who resorted to petty ideas or fell to lust. They had nothing she wanted.

Her largest source of joy in the past few years came from examining the leader of the Karill, seeking any form of weakness, any sort of failing that would make his power hers, but even in that she was beginning to realize that each time she tried to rise to power, it just felt emptier than before. No, true joy came from her watching the slaves of the Karill, interacting with those that had the same spark. Those that wanted to take power as their own and hold onto it in earnest.

But it all came back to the very beginning. She wanted the power to choose. She wanted, for once in her life, to make a decision out of something other than a fear of mortality.

"I suppose I am like a predator," she mused, "I only killed to survive, and did whatever was necessary to stay alive. The only joy I have comes from hopefully having the chance to make a decision one day because it would please me, not because I was afraid of the alternative."

Floran's expression turned tranquill with surprising speed as he took the answer to heart, quite literally. As the words reached it, he listened to it again. What thought did his heartbeat approve of this time? Yes, the answer aligned with his own quite magnificently. "Given no other option in sight, I can not blame you for your actions." He smiled a little as he moved himself closer to her, then drew her in. He pressed her back firmly against his abdomen as his arms went around her waist. "Living is not a crime. And wishing for the power to live how you want to is neither."

Floran paused for a second. "Do you think I could give you that? The ability to iive without a need for those actions at least? It may be too early to say this, but I would like for you to enjoy your life. I would be lying if I said I didn't find a wish to enjoy it with you." He said, somewhat unsure whether this was the right time and place. "I am but a man, I can't offer you the world, but I can offer you a decision, should you please."

Tension shattered like glass, the whole place seemed to accept air once more as Azira was suddenly pulled away from her whole realm of secrets behind her. Finally, someone with whom she could share her true face. The knife found its way back to her side as her entire expression lit up.

"You have no idea how happy that would make me." She smiled wrapping her arms around him in a tight embrace, "It... It will have to wait until this dreaded Gathering is over, I suppose, and I can't promise that it will be easy for us... but time is short. We're both approaching an older age, so I say there's no time like the present."

She glanced at him... now had she said too much? She wasn't even sure how she was supposed to act anymore... there was no mask hiding her from this man in front of him.

"I... I, ah, I fear maybe... I've said too much?"

"I know many people from many places." Floran told her. "Wolfrahg, Rumsara, Longear, Roamwyn. Wherever we'd want, I'm sure I can arrange a place for us to settle in. Retiring after eight years is nothing but long overdue for a mercenary. Heck, we can even live out in the wilderness if you want. We could start something together, the two of us..." He definitely was going further here than she was, but he was getting the feeling that she wouldnt mind him saying it. Whatever other difficulties she might be thinking of were not even a consideration for him.

"It sounds like a dream come true." she smiled brightly as she was overcome with joy, as she felt the touch of his lips gently on her neck.

The foreboding feeling rooted itself deeper into the pit of her gut; a mysterious chill she’d been feeling since she arrived at the Gathering. She’d done a great job ignoring it, but she felt it again — that familiar shiver, as if someone had crept up behind her and was breathing down her neck. She turned, but no one was there. The light chill in the air seemed to press closer. She thought she heard a faint voice in the wind, laughing. Every muscle in her body tensed; she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to go terribly wrong.

Xena quickly grabbed Vadik’s arm and pulled him toward the path they had come from, every atom in her body screaming for her to leave the forest. Go back, it seemed to say. Before she could take another step, a familiar voice made her halt. Faela. A wave of comfort washed over her, relieved to see a familiar face in the dark shadows that blanketed over them.

She opened her mouth to speak, but a sudden sound ripped through the silence that hung heavy in the air; it was the same sound she’d heard as a young child when she had stepped onto the frozen lake, only to be submerged into the freezing water moments after. If her brother hadn’t grabbed her immediately, life would have ended for her then and there. The same sound she was hearing now brought back memories of her traumatic experience. She looked around, but it was too dark to see anything.

Xena felt as if someone had draped a cold washcloth across her back. A shiver ran down her spine. “We need to head back. Now.” She reached for Vadik’s arm once again, but as soon as flesh touched flesh, a gush of wind zipped past them, cold as winter and harsh as a storm, it’s strength strong enough to send her back a few steps. Before she could react, she heard that whispering laughter again, the chilling presence now seeming to loom over her. But it wasn’t the wind, nor voices, that caused her eyes to widen and her jaw drop slightly open — it was the sight before her; white wisps of cold air took the form of feminine figures, darting from tree to tree, disappearing into thin air and reappearing seconds later only to disappear again.

Everything happened so fast. A shard of ice was hurled swiftly through the air, missing them both in just a hair’s breadth. And then a second one. Unfortunately, this one didn’t miss. Xena watched in horror as it sliced through Vadik’s flesh.

“Vadik!” she screamed, her voice echoing throughout the woods.

Red blood tainted white snow—snow she hadn’t even realized was there—and before she could reach out to him, icy winds knocked her off her feet. She fell to the ground, the freezing temperature of the unnatural snow invading her senses like a buffet of hail falling down a broken roof. Shards of ice pierced her numb flesh. Frost seemed to envelope her body, but she wasn’t sure.

Xena’s vision dimmed. She must have been falling into unconsciousness. She could feel her head pounding and her teeth aching, as if she had just chugged a jar of freezing water. Her lips and throat were dry and they ached for moisture. Xena tried to move her delicate fingers, but they didn’t budge. She thought she could hear someone calling her name, but the voice seemed too far away to make any sense. The voice slowly faded and was replaced by a silent buzzing in her ears.

The silence was deafening. Everything turned pitch black.



“You’ll really grant my wish?” The little girl asked, staring at the woman with her adorable round eyes. She held two roses in her hand, a basket of varying flowers in the other.

“Yes, I will grant your wish.” The mysterious woman replied; her voice was soft and pleasing to the ears, almost like a melody.

“Anything? You will really grant anything?” The girl asked once again, her eyes gleaming as tears threatened to fall. She gripped the flowers tighter and held them close to her chest. Tears sprang down her cheeks, and the woman bent down to wipe them.

“Anything, dear child.”

“How? Are you a fairy?” Her chocolate brown eyes looked up to the woman in wonder, eyes filled with innocence and curiosity.

The woman chuckled. “Yes, I am a fairy,” she replied with a beautiful smile.

The girl’s eyes lit up, a wide smile now etched on her face. She reached her hand out, giving her the red roses. “Then, can you bring my father back?” she asked, eyes filled with hope.

The woman took the flowers from her hand and brought them close to her nose, breathing in their sweet scent. "If that's your wish, I will grant it. When you wake tomorrow, your father will be there as if he never left."

"You really mean it?" A huge smile was plastered on the little girl's lips, and the woman watched her with an unreadable expression.

"Then, I'm going to sing a song. Will you listen?" The girl nodded eagerly. “Well… close your eyes and listen to me sing, sweet child.”

A beautiful melody filled the air. Trees swayed back and forth, the lake glistening under the pale moonlight. The little girl closed her eyes and fell into a deep slumber.

The next morning, she awoke with vague memories of her dreams from the previous night. Her father knocked on her door, "Is my little girl awake?" he asked.

Somewhere inside a large chamber, the woman watched the child and her father in front of a large mirror. She tapped the cool glass, and the image was replaced by a man clad in gleaming armor. The man walked down the halls of the temple, slowly making his way toward the woman’s chamber.

“Ah, now I wait for The Keeper to deliver retribution.” There was no hint of regret written on her face. She slowly walked toward her window and sat on her windowsill, staring up at the beautiful night sky as the sound of footsteps drew close.

---

The old bear Relmir flew past him with surprising speed as he lined up his shot. Where in the world he found that kind of endurance, Feir didn’t have the slightest idea, but within moments he was already with his son. And by the sorry state his bloodied leg was in and the way he was flailing uselessly at his attacker, it was painfully clear that the heir needed all of the help he could get. But there was little Feir could do but watch as the chief ripped the beasts jaws away from his son and then went tumbling down with the wolf, which had now had a new prey in its sight.

Things were not going well.

Between the heir that could barely keep standing and the chief that was now taking his turn to be savaged by the wolf, Feir felt the first pangs panic bubbling up in his chest. Thankfully they hadn’t quite reached him yet, so with a steady hand the wanderer finished drawing his arrow back, the familiar sensation of the drawstring against his cheek focusing him on his mark. The stench of blood was beginning to fill the clearing, in sharp contrast to the rest of the eerily peaceful ridge, but he barely noticed it. His fingers tensed. If he missed, there was an all too real possibility he might hit the chief.

The hesitation didn’t even last a moment though, as he wasn’t going to stand and watch the wolf get ever closer to the chief’s throat with each vicious snap of its jaws. A rather ragged breath escaped his lips as he willed his body to relax. Out of the corner of his eye, Feir just barely noticed Rimgauge finally giving in to the pain and falling unconscious, adding yet another problem to his plate. But one he would worry about in a moment, as the Wolfrahg men that were about to reach the top of the ridge were either going to hail him as a hero or execute him as a traitor once his arrow found its mark.

With his aim adjusted and readjusted, Feir felt his fingers relax, sending the arrow straight towards the wolf’s throat.

The grim scenes unfold before Vadik like the harsh winter breeze of his home, swift and bitter. He reacted the same way he did to any threat; he unsheathed his blade but did not strike. He couldn’t, since his enemies were the wind itself. His lips curled up into a snarl, his very postures screamed violence, but his amber eyes were tired and weary. In that short, stagnant moment, Vadik looked older than any mortal had the right to be. The wind hissed and taunted, but he only watched, darkened gaze promised neither vengeance nor hate.

Then when frost bit his forearm, Vadik grunted in pain, breaking out of his trance. Before him, Xena was tossed carelessly to the ground, his eyes caught the glowing pattern of the sickness on her skin. He saw them and instinctively, he knew that they were not natural in origin. Dark, seething, but directionless rage bubbled up from within him as he dove for her prone body.

“No. No, no, no.”- He chanted, shaking hands cradling her tentatively. Even against his frostbitten hands, her skin was freezing cold. - “Don’t leave me, Xena.”

He felt for the faint beats on the side of her neck, letting out a shaky breath when he knew she was still among the living. However, he needed to get help fast. A sharp pain ran up his left arm as he tried to lift her. Vadik looked at his forearm and found that the shard of ice imbedded there earlier had melt, leaving behind an open wound. Dark veins crawled up the side of arm, heralding ill omens. For a shard of ice to poisoned was unheard of. But Vadik knew that there were darker forces behind that attack. He was not sure how, but he knew. And he wanted to live so he could face them again.

Quickly shredding a strip of cloth from his shirt, he bound it tightly around the crook of his arm, hoping to stall the venom as much as possible. His wound still bled profusely, but he figured he could hold on a little bit longer. The campsite was not far away. Before he could make the second attempt to pick Xena up, a figure entered his field of vision. It was a woman, though he couldn’t say he recognized her.

“Who are you?”- He growled, the repressed rage bled into his voice. However, as the words left him, he vaguely recalled hearing someone shouting for Xena. His recollection of the transpired events was oddly fuzzy. It must be the poison coursing in his veins. Regardless, there is high possibility that this woman might be an acquaintance of Xena.

“I need to… get her back.”- His tone softened, though he still eyed the woman warily as he moved to pick Xena up again.

Narcissa had barely realised how she had behaved until she had already done so. Something had overcome her for a short moment. It was something familiar, yet foreign. It wasn’t something that had happened before. After all, nobody had ever dared to insult her beauty. Only a fool would insult the princess of the karill. A fool, or a magical tree person that had kidnapped her. Indeed, maybe that outburst had been slightly… out of place. But she couldn’t help it. Even in this moment all her emotions were dulled except for that pure anger. Only as her body gave way completely to his might began the fear to return slightly in the background of her mind.

”Let me go this instant, you scourge!” She barked at the tree. But the closer the creature, and the distance between her and the mysterious saucer grew shorter, the more this rage subsided. She could feel it protesting inside of her as it was drawn into the depths of her mind. “Let me go!” She yelled out once more, accenting every word fully. But it was no use. ”Please, release me. She pleaded softly, cowardly. The anger inside of her had almost been completely overtaken by a frightened girl that feared for her life in this moment of peril. She could almost taste the liquid as it touched her lips. She had raised her chin as far as she could in her impaired state. But the sprite-like creature kept insisting as it followed the orders of its master. Narcissa could let out only high pitched squeaks as opening her mouth would surely be the end of her now. She didn’t want to accept a fate like this, but what could she do?

But her luck hadn’t run out. Not yet, anyway.

Her mind had been too focussed to notice anything until she could feel the intense heat surrounding her legs. The surprise of her heat made her mind scream out danger. The pure shock reaction ravaged through her mind, leaving no room for any interference with her pure will to survive one element people were taught to fear if it caught you. Her first movement was a spasm as the movements she tried to make in resistance actually happened. Her arm immediately hit away the saucer as she had been wishing to do ever since it had been on her lips.

She was not ready for the sudden move of the creature, tearing away the lowest fabric of her dress. She stumbled backwards, but was immediately stopped by what seemed a large, wooden hand that only brought her in closer. It was quite clear that this tree intended to protect his ‘wife’ from what it considered an assassin. But Nissa could not be happier by the sight of who was aiding her. ”Phe!” She yelped, the shock still resounding in her voice.

But right now was not the time to be surprised, happy or fearful. With a little help of the scrapes of anger still left in her, she knew that this was her moment. Not to mention, the creature had noticed Phe as well. Phe would likely not be able to stand up to this creature.

Not alone.

The tree had torn his attention from Nissa to focus on what it considered a threat to his love, but little did he know that he had brought a potentially greater threat closer to himself. She witnessed as the tree started to stretch and grow. She couldn’t allow that, she had to strike now. Narcissa jumped, using her body’s acrobatic grace that she had built up training for all these years. She tried to get onto the hand at her back. Then, once she was on it, she leapt up with a scream at the growing creature as she drew her blade. Now that it was distracted, she had the perfect chance to stab it directly in its despicable face.