Herbalists' Cache damson

the woman had gone back to her pack. presumably one of the former dragonlings accompanied her. that meant two were unaccounted for in this vast wilderness.

the dreamer's investment he did not understand, not when it felt as if he should relocate his golden family now.

through the green-laden air of a natural apothecary he traveled, searching for anything familiar from that fated space outside the empty den.

there were many herbs of use here; qiao waylaid the small party the evening before, instructing @Stormracer to keep @rowdy and @Riot occupied. the former had travelled poorly; more than once they halted their procession to ply him with cured meats spiced with sedatives. after meals, the little wretch was certainly more compliant. 

with her herb-wares running low, qiao left midmorning seeking starflowers. her task took her across a bright green cleft of hills that deepened into a cool valley. a rift of stone rose to the east, and there under the dappled shade of midmorning qiao saw a tall cluster of periwinkle flowers. 

harvesting them was not so easy; with the gnarled antler of her to’lang, the crone began to scythe down each stem, leaving the toppled rhizomes where they lay as she went. 

as she bent to her task, she kept her attention sharp — but the wolf in the copse had not yet ventured close enough to be detected.

cut periwinkle was pungent.

wolf dreamer paused, his clear black eyes searching for their pruner.

he was too far to see her; he saw only the millions of golden threads leaping upward from the life which surrounded him.

you're here for the dragon dreamer, Wolf reminded him, and so the son of asmodeus moved closer, until the wood thinned and he could see the rawboned figure bent at her work.

a wake of pierced blooms lay in her trail.

it was the nape of snow she spotted first, alpine white against the dewy backdrop of july-greenery.

qiao stood from her work and regarded him coldly — while all around her hissed the seething of the overworld.

where he saw filaments of gold threading their way skyward, she saw color being bled of it; a black aura saddled him like a cape, instructing he must not be touched.

he served another faceless god, this one one of the thousand pantheon that strung the inimitable and unintelligible collective of the overworld.

she straightened her spine, turning her slim jaw sidelong in silent demand to state his purpose.

he knew that scent. tracelike. tiny. barely a hint. but it had been at the peak, disappearing with her trail into a snarl of briars.

the goldlight flowed from her too, but there was more here: strands of burgundy, filaments of viridian, voidless lines of ichor.

he had never seen such a thing.

from his throat echoed Wolf's voice, sibilant and toneless; "where is the child you took?"

obsidian pools compelled her to drown in his stare. "something sleeps inside them."

that he spoke to hidden gods made him no ally.  qiao set her full attention upon him, noting the resonance in his voice and the way the black of his eyes seemed to swallow everything within it. 

she began to count the seconds. he was stronger — if he wanted, he could catch her. and if he could catch her, he could kill her. 

they are safe. she answered, matching the timelessness of his voice. she took one careful step back - he would not be allowed close. she had lived too long to allow her life to become forfeit. the obsidian of his eyes seemed to grow outward in a gathering cloud. 

what grows inside them? she was guarded then; surely he did not mean the sickness that claimed the children’s parents. of this, she was confident the reek of it would hang on their breath.

ah, so she had taken the pup. anger, unfamiliar, coursed wolf dreamer. he had built the burial cairn himself and felt chased by emotion that she had torn the child from his dying father.

she stepped back and he advanced, suddenly a hale example of his well-fed kind, primed with a flash of wolftooth. "something you do not understand. why did you take them?"

it called to her. as it called to you. power, boy. power. beware.

another step.

a gristly show of teeth followed wolf dreamer’s serpentine step forward. 

that was all it took for the conversation to arrive at its natural conclusion. a current of fur rippled along her nape as if his teeth had found her. 

something you do not understand. why did you take them? 

did he think so little of her?

qiao could explain to this man that both parents were dead and she had secured their future to a higher purpose. but he was owed nothing, and qiao would give her neck before she bent to the will of men.

with a hiss, the crone seized the bundle of herbs at her feet and launched their bristling ends at his insolent face — hoping the momentary distraction would be enough for her to seal her escape. 

if she was lucky, maybe one of the finer points might pierce an eye.

he would wear a new scar cut along the corner of his left eye, forever.

blood dripped along the fiercely twisted features. he reeled, then lunged through the glutting fire of agony and snapped for the woman.

and something rose in the dreamer then, binding him to the loam clenched underfoot as if he had never left it with his visions: hunger.

the snarl of vines lobbed his way was not enough to deter him. qiao fled, a fistful of her skin and fur held in wolf dreamer’s jaws. 

as the hunter’s hunger grew, qiao’s instinct for survival rose. she sought low hanging shrubs and tangled terrain, where a wolf of her size might slip through but a wolf of his size might find their progress stymied. 

all the while she heard his heavy footsteps and hungering breath behind her, and her tail burned with the sting of ripped flesh.

feel free to fade here! <3 ive lost muse for WD and might bring him back later <3

she disappeared, and he stood with dilated black eyes, sides heaving.

the rage pulsing in his blood frightened the man, who stopped short.

"you will be a catalyst for horrendous pain in this world," the dreamer's voice ground out. "and the one who comes will tear your throat from your body."

with that, he backed from the tangled undergrowth, casting only a final look through pained features before he made for the twisted halls of the elven palace.

it was not the first time a man had lobbed a curse her way. qiao did not give it a second thought -- despite the truth in it.

she fled, as survivors do -- and wondered how many times before her demise she would run from the wickedness of men.

never once considering the wickedness she placed here; never once considering her own measure of evil that kept her heart pounding and her blackened blood from going thick with hate.