A Respite

While Sagacious and Ciara seemed intent on killing each other, miles away Chrys awoke to the scents of fresh water, greenery and a spicy aroma that made his mouth water. As his eyes fluttered open, so too came memories of what had happened to him back in Ahri's tent. He let out a gasp and sat bolt upright, letting out a small gasp of fear and confusion as he looked about him, bewildered. Palm trees around his periphery, small fire about ten feet from him with a lidded pot bubbling away, the source of the heavenly smell that had awoken him, stomach grumbling its interest. Undergrowth was plentiful, as were the multitudes of birds, myriad in colorful plumage and raucous, which perched in the green refuge around him, chirps and cackles filling the air as he stirred

This must be an Oasis. But how? Last thing Chrys could remember was Ahri, his rotted and desiccated flesh reaching towards his face…

"Oh, good. You're up." A matronly voice broke Chrys' reverie. Spinning around, drawing Mae's cloak about him in modesty, Chrys searched for the source of the voice. All about him the birds tittered and chirped excitedly, but there was no sign of the speaker.

"Hey, hi! Up here!" Chrys' tracked the sound to a large fern cluster set against the base of one of the many palm trees. There sat a slightly chubby sloth with dark brown fur, its arms wrapped about the trunk of the tree maybe ten feet off of the ground. It smiled serenely at him and nodded slowly. One clawed appendage waved at him smoothly as his brain put together what he was seeing.

"Welcome to my grove. You stumbled in here last night all out of sorts," the sloth languidly extended a clawed finger up at the nearest tree where Chrys saw a family of brightly plumed songbirds watching him very intently, "Charlie wanted to feed you to his family. But then you changed back into, well, you when he grabbed you."

Chrys had a vague and blurry recollection of gigantic talons descending down towards him, of terror at the wild eyes of what he now presumed was 'Charlie'. He shuddered at the memory and shook his head as if he were trying to cast it away from himself. He scowled as his mind collected itself. Was he talking to… a sloth? In common?

"I was… running. Something awful happened. I was afraid I was going to die. I'm not… I don't remember how I got here." His head hurt, body ached, and he was very hungry. As he watched, the sloth lazily let go of its perch and landed on the ground with a thump, its fall cushioned by the underbrush. Chrys got another strong smell of fresh water as the multitudes of birds squawked and trilled in seeming protest.

"Everyone's a critic." A middle aged feminine halfling sat up in the luxurious ferns and smiled broadly at him. Her greying red hair was curly and tangled, bits of palm fronds and feathers sticking out of it in every direction. She was thin, but not unhealthily so, and very tanned. The kind of tan that could only result from near-generational sunburns being repeated and healed. Her bright hazel eyes were creased with laugh lines and age, and she grinned at Chrys revealing a few missing teeth. The halfling crawled from the undergrowth with some effort and walked towards him, one grubby hand extended in greeting. "Pleased to meet you, I'm Debrynn. Or just Deb."

Chrys was shellshocked slightly, and could only reach out to wordlessly shake her hand. "I'm Scarlett." And to their slight surprise, they'd just given up all pretense of subterfuge and lies. Here, in this place, they were Scarlett. They'd never even attempted to deceive. Strange.

Deb smiled serenely and took the offered shake. "Very nice to meet you Scarlett. Your travelling robe was torn up pretty badly, had some blood and, er, other things on it. I burned it." She must have seen her guest's horrified reaction, before adding, "I saved your pretty cloak for you. And we'll get you a new robe for when you feel up to it. And I have some stew on the coals, I thought you might be hungry."

Immediately, memories of her youth on Westgate flooded Scarlett. Mistrust rose in her throat like a poison. "Thank you, Deb, was it? Where are we? And may I have some water?" Eyes narrowed, she began to look about the area, trying to determine what exactly was going on. The sun was still rising, that much was visible through the verdant canopy above them.

Looking mortified, as if she'd committed a terrible social faux-pas, Deb pressed a cool gourd into Scarlett's hands. Inside it sloshed heavily with liquid, presumably water. "Of course, drink up! I was worried we'd have to ladle it down your sleeping throat, this always works much better." She watched as Scarlett greedily sucked down the cool contents of the gourd, and slowly waddled to the fire to begin spooning a viscous and chunky vegetable root stew into a clay bowl. She waited until her guest had her fill of the water and offered her the hot bowl, offering, "Be careful with that. It's hot. My own family recipe!" She said it with obvious pride.

The water was amazing and cold, Scarlett was sure it was from a spring nearby. The stew was indeed blisteringly hot, but after blowing on it she was able to get a spoonful down. It was savory, spicy and wonderful. Mouth full, she nodded gratefully at her halfling hostess. She spent several minutes just eating and stretching in silence, Deb just sat down against a palm trunk and watched her, smiling. Scarlett was on her last spoonful and was in the process of tipping the bowl up to her lips to drink the last of the broth when Deb finally broke the silence.

"Nice cloak you have. Wherever did you get it?" The tone was very matter-of-fact, and it managed to catch Scarlett off guard.

"It belonged to someone I knew, they gave it to me before… they left." Memories of Mae came flying back, Scarlett had never seen her mentor without the thing. Scarlett had been tempted to leave it with Mae's body, be burned with it, but she couldn't bring herself to do so. It was the only thing left of Mae she had. Deb was staring right through her as she answered. Scarlett offered her back the empty bowl.

"Go grab seconds if you want, there's plenty," Deb smiled at her again, keeping eye contact. "Do you remember how you got here, Scarlett?"

Wrapping the cloak even tighter around herself, she stood and walked to the pot, ladling out another helping. Her stomach seemed to roar its approval. "I don't, if I'm being honest. I was with a caravan… something… something horrible happened to the people. Sandstorm. Magic from the desert. I must have run. I don't know how I survived." The memories of that raspy whisper she'd heard made her shudder. "I don't remember even coming here."

Deb laughed raucously, not unlike the multitude of birds which surrounded them. They picked up the laugh and soon it echoed about the area loudly. "I'd be shocked if you did. Unless I miss my guess, that was the first time you've ever shifted?" Again, Deb maintained eye contact with Scarlett.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"You." Deb stood up and came to sit beside Scarlett after grabbing herself a bowl of stew. "You were a tiny little scarab beetle last night when you got here. That's why Charlie tried to grab you." She wolfed down a big spoonful. "He says he's sorry about that, by the way." A caw of agreement came from the greenery.

Scarlett was very confused. "I was…. A scarab beetle?"

"You were. Lovely red shell, too." Deb finished her bowl and belched loudly.

"How? And why are you helping me?" Scarlett realized she was in over head at this moment and tried simply being forthright and honest. Nothing else had worked lately.

"How?" Deb seemed to find the question hilarious. Again the menagerie joined in her wild laughter. "Why? Hahaha. So many questions. I don't really know either answer. Not really." For the first time, Scarlett's inner voice raised a specific internal alarm, the one reserved for dangerous crazy people. "Well," Deb began slowly, "I guess you could say you tapped into the elemental powers of nature to literally change shape. I call it shifting. It'll catch on, feel free to use it."

As Scarlett watched, Deb began to climb the palm tree nearest to her, arms wrapping about the truck, heaving herself upwards. As she did so, her form changed in a blur, replaced by the large chocolate brown sloth once more. It waved at her and smiled broadly. Words began to emerge from the sloth's mouth, in the common tongue.

"Eventually, you might be able to talk in different shapes too. It takes practice." Deb's speech had slowed slightly, almost as if she was talking through a large yawn. The sloth continued to beam at her happily. "I'll teach you, at least a little. This is my place, you can't stay here forever, you must find your own place in this world, and I think that's why I helped you. I think we both serve the same Cycle, Scarlett." One huge hazel eye winked conspiratorially at Scarlett. One arm slowly extended, pointing a claw at the fire. "But, I think dishes need to be done first." She yawned again mightily, "And then a nap. Maybe then you can tell me all about your pretty cloak and ask me more questions…"

Scarlett opened her mouth to ask more, but the sloth was already snoring blissfully. She scowled and stood, looking around. Hundreds of avian eyes watched her, she felt at the same time both safe and trapped. Honestly, being alone in the desert without a map, food, or water was a death sentence, and Scarlett knew it. She shrugged and set about cleaning up the remnants of her breakfast and then waited for Deb to awaken...