“What have we here? A lost lamb and her sheep all alone in the forest?”
Naya jumps, hand flying down to grab at her spear, but she relaxes almost instantly when she realizes that the creature that had snuck up on her is a phantom. Her blade would not affect such a creature, so it was pointless to draw it. “I am not a lamb, nor am I lost, spirit,” she grumbles, turning back to the fire and fishing around until she finds her smelling salts. “Have you come on friendly business, wraith?” The brunette queries, deft fingers popping the top off the flask as she begins to pour a circle of salt around her and the naked human beast.
There is almost not enough but she makes it, just barely. The smell of lavender is so strong now that it is almost cloying and Naya begrudgingly adds mixing up new salts to her growing list of things to do today.
The wraith seems to lose interest fairly quickly after that, whether it be from the salt circle baring her way or genuine boredom Naya can not be sure. “Goodbye, little lamb,” the dark figure rasps before shrieking and bolting off into the distance, her shadows disappearing into those of the hemlock trees.
“Tcht,” Naya clicks her tongue, glaring off after the wraith as she pokes at the man creature’s haunches with the end of her spear. “I am no lamb,” she murmurs to no one in particular.
“I am a fox.”
@Karos---
It's been a few hours since the wraith made its ghostly appearance and the stranger has yet to wake up. Naya is beginning to consider just dragging him out of the burdock thicket and leaving him for the damned bears. She can't wait much longer for him to come to, even if she wanted to. This forest would be teeming with all sorts of ominous creatures once the sun went down and the witch wasn't exactly looking forward to fighting them all off.
An eerie fog has descended on the Deathwood, making it even more difficult to peer through the ancient trees than normal. Naya throws another branch into the crackling fire, chewing absentmindedly on a newt she had just skewered and grilled, when the sound of footsteps draw her attention.
“Hello?” The witch calls, green eyes peering into the fog until she makes out a figure approaching her bonfire.
It's the crown prince. Naya would have known him anywhere.
She'd only seen him once before, when she was a little girl and her mother brought her to the capital after being summoned to return the sight of one of the king’s trusted advisors. Naya had been eleven winters old at the time and the young princeling appeared to be around her age, standing stoically next to the king with his midnight wings folded down. His verdigris eyes had met hers for just a moment, so pale they were almost colorless.
They were not the sort of eyes that were easily forgotten.
“Prince,” the brunette nods, swallowing the mouthful of newt. “Your ginger friend does not seem to be faring well,” she comments, her gaze shifting down to the bloodied angel in his arms before she looks back up to meet his eyes again. “I can set her wing and stop the bleeding, but I don’t have the ingredients for much else out here,” Naya offers, before nudging her booted foot against the naked man lying next to her. “I can mend her better at my shop, but I can't have this one dying in my burdock thicket and attracting the frost bears,” the witch explains, scowling at the last bit.
“Damn beasts eat everything. They’ll clean out the whole glen after they finish picking this one clean,” Naya huffs, before continuing, “I can carry that one for you, if you’ll get this one for me.”
The witch remains seated, waiting for the dark prince’s decision.
@Soufflegirl123@Ace of flames01@Sarcelle Renard