[The Bronze Wood] The Return, and The Visitor (Samael)

[Sturlin]

Timestamp: 9th of Spring, 510 AV

The glen was just as he had left it when he had departed for the city. Just as when he first found it the shadows hung heavy on the ground. It had taken the majority of the day to march through the animal trails which led to this shaded and comfortable shelter. The city, he decided once again, was not the place for people such as himself. He had been so eager to return he had not stopped to rest but once, and now that he had arrived he felt exhausted.

Before he could rest he needed to prepare his camp. Unpacking was easier since he had packed only two days prior. With a fresh memory of how the glen would look when he was finished the construction of his camp was far easier. By the time the light had failed him he had filled the deep fire pit in the center of the glen with a merry fire and his tent was secure against the light spitting drizzle of the evening. Tonight he stacked the stones a little wider around the fire, just in case.

The pale pink and hairless cat known as Mr. Pickles disapproved heavily of such moisture in the air, and had immediately wormed his way through the partially open tent flap when it began to fall. In spite of the slight chill it carried with it Sturlin remained seated next to the fire to enjoy the rain. The right side of his face turned upward in a smile while the left side seemed to attempt the same, before settling into something that looked more akin to a downward grimace.

Francis was taking the weather more in stride. After the unpacking the horse had deeply enjoyed his brushing. Apparently, whatever one might think, a brush is far more comfortable and satisfying than a comb. The horse was now chomping happily away at his feedbag and tethered to a stout tree nearby. As the water began to glisten on his leathers and gather in the nooks and crannies among the camp Sturlin mentally reminded himself to remove the feed bag in an hour or so to allow grazing again.

It had been an eventful day in the city, but he was very happy to have returned. Tomorrow he would check his traps and lay fresh ones. With the rain coming down as it was the nearby stream would likely be swollen as well. A ten minute walk and he would have all the fishing he could manage. His confidence was returning in his ability to manage this lifestyle he had laid out for himself. It would not be easy or comfortable, but it was far better than the alternatives he had been presented with.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

For such a survivor, Sam often did stupid, stupid things. He was almost to Syliras when he saw a rider turn off the main road and decided, against his better judgment, to follow. He kept a distance because he didn't want the rider to hear him and turn on him. Riders often carried weapons and those were bad for Sam's health. But as a result, he got turned around on the animal tracks and Horse was starting to get very surly.

"Well, I'm sorry, Horse, but you're the horse. Can't you smell your own?"

Horse snorted irritably.

"He probably took a shyke along the way; at least we'd know we were on the right track. Don't worry, though, I'm sure we're on the way back to the road. Then it shouldn't be too much farther to the city, and I promise I'll pay for stabling so you can lounge around like a housecat for a few days."

Horse flicked Sam's leg with his tail.

"Fine. Fine. I don't know why I keep you around anyway; you have the fattest arse... Oh."

The had reached the top of a rise and he could see smoke rising from what must be a campfire. Without waiting for direction, Horse turned down a rocky bit that looked better held together than the rest of the scree. He was as surefooted as a donkey, was Horse.

"But what if it's a bandit," Sam protested in an intense whisper, but Horse ignored him. Gnawing his lip, Sam kept an eye out for archers in trees and other assorted dangers until the were close enough he could hear the crackle of the fire and the snorting of another horse.

It seemed they were approaching a glen, and he decided to try the friendly route first. If worse came to worse, Horse was fleet enough to flee.

"Ho, stranger!" he called.

[Sturlin]

Francis the horse nickered softly and perked his ears. As he looked toward the approach of the rider he pawed the soft ground nervously. Two lamp-like eyes could be seen peering out of the tent as Mr. Pickles observed from a safe hiding place. Sturlin was the only one in the open, sitting on a log in front of the fire pit, as Samael approached.

As he heard the shout of greeting Sturlin's scarred hand twitched nervously in the direction of the sound. After that moment of dark surprise, however, he got himself under control and loosened his dagger in its sheath. His eyes scanned the area around the glen to see if there are any others in the area. As his gaze settled on the area of the young man's approach he called back, "Ho there."

Whether the stranger came forward or not the hunter calmly reached among his things and retrieved a heavily notched and marked shortbow, stringing it and sticking a few arrows in the ground within easy reach. He made no overtly hostile actions, but was attempting to make it clear that he could and would defend himself if necessary. His scarred face settled into a scowl as he spoke again, "State your business stranger."

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

"I was exploring on my way to Syliras," he said ruefully, figuring that honest was the best policy. Though the scabbard and hilt of his scimitar were visible where he had strapped it to the saddle, he held his empty hands up in a placating gesture. "Got a little lost. I was hoping maybe you knew which goat trail leads back to the main road so Horse and I don't get even more lost and end up in Ravok or something like that... I hear they eat horses there. And dogs. And cats."

Some of the last was rumor only, but one never knew. He half-smiled as he said it, offering it as a bit of humor.

[Sturlin]

Watching the slightly younger man with narrowed eyes he seemed to consider his statement. He did not seem amused by the joke. On the bright side, he didn't look offended either. His speech looked strange and forced, as only half of his face was able to move properly as he produced the sounds. "I don't travel the Bronze Wood at night. This depth of the forest is not a great danger, but night is not a time for eyes like ours..."

Still watching Samael as he went about his chores he chopped some mushrooms he had picked during his wanderings the week before. He held them in his hand over the pot, which was filled with traveler's broth, and chopped them unevenly with an eating knife. He had no trouble wielding one thing at a time but he was not fully adapted to the awkward stiffness of his left hand. He seemed content to sit in silence, but he was not ignoring the traveler.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

Sam watched him for a moment, then slid off Horse's back, idling beside the great beast. With his head not towering so high over the other man's, he hoped he would feel less defensive.

"I was looking for a place to camp in the event I didn't find our way out before dark," he said, nodding agreement with the man's wisdom. After another few moments, he offered, "I have some food, some herbs. Should I add them to your pot?"

It was a roundabout way of asking to share camp. If the man refused, he would move on. After asking for directions, of course.

[Sturlin]

The man continued to chop his mushrooms in silence for a moment. His attention was caught by the sight of a lanky, bald cat slinking out of the tent and moving up to Samael. His voice was low and warning as he spoke to the fool cat, "Pickles..." Ignoring him the cat examined the newcomer for a moment. Once Mr. Pickles had decided that the guests were acceptable he purred and rubbed the length of his body against the Samael's foot. After he had clearly shown his approval he turned a kingly gaze toward his human companion and stared him down.

Sturlin let out an explosive sigh as he watched the cat. Then he shrugged and went back to cutting his mushrooms. "A bit more in the pot would not go amiss. It seems I've been over-ruled." He grumbled a few more things under his breath about traitor cats and nosy strangers, but there was no malice behind it. "Take a seat, if you wish."

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

Sam crouched down to give his feline adorer a bit of a petting in thanks for the vote of confidence. That done, he pulled a few things out of his saddlebags: an apple, some fennel, a bit of salted pork. These things he set down near the man, then retreated to see to Horse's comfort, removing his saddle and giving him a bit of a brush down.

He didn't say anything; his thanks would come later. But he could deal with silence for a while if that was what the man wanted. He certainly wasn't going to antagonize him.

When he was done with Horse, he gave his equine brother a pat on the rump, letting him wander a bit to graze while Sam took a seat on a rock on the other side of the campfire.

[Sturlin]

A polite nod greeted the addition of the ingredients, and when he was finished with the mushrooms he began cutting them and including them in the pot. When he had finished with the other ingredients rather than dumping the apple inside he carefully cored it and sliced it. He set the apple aside for a moment and procured a wooden cup from his nearby pack. Pouring himself a cup of water he then stoppered the water skin and slid it around the fire in case Samael wanted some.

He then returned his attention to the slices of apple. Taking it in his good hand he offered most of the apple to the stranger. He took about a third of it and asked grudgingly, "Mind if I give this to Francis?" With a jerk of his head he indicated the horse tethered nearby and grazing.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

"Not at all," Sam replied with a quiet smile. "I would have given more to Horse, but he had a whole one for lunch and I don't want to spoil him too much."

He had water of his own, of course, but there was an importance to sharing water, building layer upon layer of thin trust until neither would be particularly leery of sleeping across a smoldering fire from each other for the night. He drank the water and munched on his portion of the apple; it wasn't overly large. He had found a bit of a wild apple orchard off the beaten track a week back. He didn't know if it were naturally occurring or a sign of some previous settlement. It didn't matter, really, as long as ghosts didn't haunt his heels for stealing their apples.