Adventure in DarkmooreIndex | Time Under Chaos | Game Logs | PreGameLogs | Adventure in Darkmoore The buckboard rattled and shook as it left Farmsworth, a small village on the other side of the pass from Tasha's own home village of Clearwater. If her Gram hadn't needed the ingredients for the potion she was making, Tasha would never have made the journey. She rarely ventured far from Clearwater, or for that matter the immediate vicinity of her Gram's cottage. But when her Gram had sent her to find some herbs to help that poor woman who had suffered some horrible accident, and Tasha had been unable to find it in the markets of Clearwater, she knew she had to take the risk and drive over the pass to Farmsworth. Sandy hair hung over his eyes as he stumbled into the cart's path. He seemed to be running from something, his clothes torn and his shoulder matted in red and brown, the coppery tang of blood belying its source. The fugitive had a silvery sword in hand and his attention was centered on the trees behind him, perhaps explaining how he totally missed Tasha's horse until it was almost atop him. Tasha cried out and pulled on the reins, but her horse shied and broke away from the perceived threat coming out of the forest, sending the horse and wagon careening off the road. Tasha bounced around, trying to maintain control of the horse and to stay on the driver's seat. The man staggered and caught himself at the last moment as his hand found purchase on the buckboard's rear. He cried out in pain even as the stain on his shirt bloomed with red again. The fugitive tossed his sword in the back and used both hands to haul himself into the wild wagon. Bright blue eyes flashed with concern, perhaps not only for himself. Disregarding his own sword and the cargo he laid upon, he scampered into the seat. It was all Tasha could do to turn her horse back to the road. She let the horse run for a short distance and finally pulled the reins for him to stop, where he stood blowing, and shaking in his traces. With her own chest heaving from the fright and exertion, she turned startled and angry eyes to the stranger who had come upon them uninvited. No one lived between here and the pass, so where had this man come from? In a glance she could see he wasn't anyone she knew from either village, and Tasha knew just about everyone, since many came to visit her Gram for potions of all sorts. She had been about to berate him for frightening her and her horse, but when she got a good look at his bedraggled appearance, her anger turned to concern, "You've been injured! And you're bleeding." The stranger had reached for the reins, but seemed relieved when the woman turned the wagon back to the road. He slumped in the seat beside her. "Please, just keep going. I don't wish to bring my misfortune down on you." He leaned toward the back and retrieve his sword. "I only hoped to keep you from running into a tree," he explained. Then, as he stretched, he cried out in pain and Tasha could clearly see the gash across his back. It looked like claws from a large creature had raked him. Tasha felt a cold chill run through her at the sight of the wound. She looked back at the forest and then at the man beside her. Had he been in the forest at night? How had he survived? But she did as he asked, flicking the reins to get her horse moving again, before asking, in a tremulous voice, "Sir, what misfortune has befallen you?" "Just a little argument," he answered, laying the sword across his lap. The blade caught the light and showed some delicate tracery along its length. "I was hoping to make some new friends and well... they didn't seem to like me." He didn't seem very upset by that turn of events; perhaps he had slipped into shock. His voice was heavy with pain as he continued, "I'd hate for you to be drawn into this anymore, so if you'll slow a bit, I'll thank you and be on my way." "On your way?" Tasha stared at him, but didn't slow the wagon down. "There is Farmsworth behind us and Clearwater ahead over the pass. There is nothing between here and there... And as you've become aware, the forest is not a safe place through which to be traveling." She looked at him curiously, "You're injured. I'm taking you to my Gram's. If anyone will know how to treat wounds like those, she will." The stranger looked Tasha over, carefully. "You think that she's seen their like?" he asked with a curious tone, still rough with pain. He seemed resigned to ride with her to meet her Gram. Tasha looked at the man again, this time with a more critical eye. "If she hasn't, I'd be surprised. Everyone knows Gram can treat anything." "I would appreciate any help, but if the... men... that did this are close..." The statement trailed off as his eyes slipped closed, tight with concentration as he kept from crying out in agony. "I truly mean you no harm, and should pain rob me of my manners, you have my thanks." "Please, no thanks are necessary. I couldn't very well leave you out here, now could I? Now, save your strength." The stranger nodded and offered her a small smile around clenched teeth. They weren't another five minutes along the way when he seemed to finally give into the obvious fatigue and in either sleep or unconsciousness his grip on the sword relaxed. Before it could fall, Tasha eased the blade out of the unconscious man's hand and placed it once again on the floor of the wagon behind her, but not before she took a closer look at the tracery upon it, having never seen anything like it before. All the swords she'd ever seen were well used blades, nothing pretty, yet deadly, as this one was. She kept one eye on the road, but the horse knew he was on his way home, and it didn't take much to keep him plodding along. This, however, allowed Tasha a chance to really get a good look at the stranger. Under the pain of the wound she thought she sensed a deeper pain or fear, though she couldn't be sure. He said he'd been trying to make friends... Certainly not with the monsters that were rumored to dwell within the forest? Yet, the wound.... Her observations left her with more questions than answers. He was of an average height and build, lithe like a swimmer but his hands showed calluses that matched the wear on the sword's hilt. In sleep, his face relaxed and showed that he was in that prime of youth that's still measured in years not scores of decades. His skin was pale and his features, if too strong to be called fine, were at least thin. Dark circles rimmed his closed eyes, suggesting that he might have been on the run longer than just today. He continued in his deep slumber until the wagon pulled up to a stop at the cottage that sat on the edge of Clearwater in which Tasha and her grandmother lived. Tasha had begun to climb down when she noticed his bright blue eyes were once again open and staring at her. "My apologies. It seems my appraisal of my injuries was almost as bad as the injuries themselves," he said softly, the pain evident on his face as he straightened up. "And it occurs that I don't even know the name of my benefactor." "Oh, how rude of me! I'm Tasha." As she said that the door to the cabin opened and an old woman hobbled out, squinting against the glare from the setting sun. The girl's name would have been revealed regardless, as the first word out of the woman's mouth was: "TASHA!" Her voice rasped, and she shook a cane at the girl. "Where have you been! It's getting late! The sun will be setting soon!" "Gram, I can explain..." The girl hopped down, revealing the man whom she'd been hiding from the woman's view, "we have a... visitor." "Visitor? At this hour?" She squinted and looked at the young man, with suspicion clearly written on her wisened old face. "Madame, it's all my fault," he said, his movements slowed by pain, but better than they were when he climbed into the cart. "Your grand-daughter is only extending kindness to an injured man." His blue eyes appraised Tasha again, a small smile on his lips. "I made a poor judgment and evil... men... have punished me for it. She speaks highly of your ability and I can pay for services if you can help me." "Injured?" the old woman made the assessment in a moment, "Well, why didn't you say so? Come in then. "But I will talk to you later, young lady," She warned Tasha. "Oh, I got the supplies you needed..." Tasha offered in concession. Gram harrumphed and turned back into the cottage. "Bring it in and get that horse in the stable before the sun goes down." Tasha turned to the man in apology, "She really can help you. Go on inside." She turned back to the wagon to pull out the supplies she had placed there, and saw the blood. She wondered how it was possible he was even able to stand. He slid from the seat, using the cart to support his weight and then the sword as a cane, no care for its appearance or tip. The rest must've made some difference, but his balance seemed off and it was far from a quick journey to the inside of the house. Tasha wavered between the horse and helping the stranger, but the quickly lowering sun made her choice more anxious. She decided he would make it on his own, but the horse would be 'food' if she didn't get him locked away for the night. So she loosened the horse from his traces and quickly led him to his stable. By the time she returned to the wagon, the stranger had made his way inside, so she quickly took the supplies from the bed of the wagon and brought them inside. It would have been surprising to most people to see a girl as slight as she was carrying those heavy sacks. When she entered, Gram was in her usual 'treating a patient' mode, and merely told Tasha to put the sacks down and fetch some clean bandages. The girl approached the pair and now could see the full damage of the stranger's wounds. He was laying on his left side, shirtless as Gram began washing away the dried blood from the now obvious claw marks across his back. The paw must've been near a foot across, leaving three deep furrows across his back. His shoulder bore another such mark, this one more of a puncture than a slashing blow, but possibly from the same attacker. One of his ankles seemed swollen to twice its size, but hadn't discolored much more than bruising, probably only a sprain from his reckless escape. His skin was naturally pale, but with the loss of blood had taken on an ashen tone. He bore up under Gram's poking and prodding and actually only responded with anything more than a grunt when she examined his ribs and he complained that he was ticklish. Tasha watched in silence, keeping out of her Gram's way, only appearing when asked for a clean bandage or to refresh the bowl of water. She withdrew to the shadows, yet her eyes kept returning to gaze at the gashes on the stranger's back and shoulder, as her Gram sewed them up. The wounds were nasty, and caused Tasha to shiver, though perhaps not completely out of fear. It was with a shock of horror she caught herself licking her lips as she took the bowl of red wash-water from her Gram to empty and refill with fresh water. She felt her own blood quicken within, and her eyes darted toward the door. She could imagine herself racing through the darkness, that was not dark for her, as her other senses supplied what her vision could not. She could smell her prey was afraid; he was only a few paces away... She opened her mouth to sink her teeth into the soft, pale flesh.... "Girl! Stop that daydreaming and bring me back my bowl!" Gram's grating voice cut through, snapping Tasha back to reality. Tasha gasped and shook herself, "Coming!" As she approached she couldn't help but ask the stranger, in a slightly shaky voice, "How did you come by such wounds?" "Some people I met not too far from here took exception to my... proposition of friendship." He smiled almost like that's what he had wanted. Gram snorted at the description, but didn't say anything to contradict his description of those he'd met. Tasha also was a bit skeptical, having grown up all her life hearing about the monsters in the forests of Darkmoore. But she was too polite to contradict. All she said was, "Perhaps those were not the right type of people to try to befriend. I know lots of friendly people I could introduce you to...." "Well, to be honest, I was a little wary about such creatures. I had heard that they only used their... talents... in times of need and to provide for their families," he commented. "It seems I was mistaken." "I'm lucky that I found you," he says looking up at her with eyes still not clear. Tasha smiled almost shyly, her cheeks warming in an unexpected fashion. "I'm glad you ran into my wagon, as well." Her old Gram looked up noting the exchange, and obviously not liking it. "Get some of the Arantha," She ordered Tasha in her gravely voice. Tasha blinked, startled, and then quickly moved to do her Gram's bidding. What was wrong with her? Why was her heart was racing? There was no danger here and that had been the only time she'd ever felt it beat this quickly before. She reached for the draught off the shelf and then brought it over to her Gram. Gram measured out a hefty amount into a cup, then looked at the patient and added some more. She held it out to the injured man. "Here... Drink this." Shimmying a little more upright, he took the cup, sniffing at it a little. He raised his eyebrow in amusement it seemed, nodded once at the healer and drank. "If I'm familiar with the draught's origin, there was enough there for two of me. I understand the concern of watching over a stranger, but I promise that I owe you my gratitude not enmity." "Should those... men... find me, I will have to depend on your hospitality, and you will be without my sword. My thanks... and apologies." Blood loss and perhaps the Arantha seemed to rob him of his alertness. Before dropping off, his breathing became very regular, as if he were finding his center and concentrating on something. Soon enough they were the shallow breaths of a sleeping man. Gram nodded in satisfaction. Tasha looked at the sleeping man and sighed, a strange wistful smile on her face. "Dinner," Gram announced sharply. Tasha jumped and hurried out to the kitchen to begin preparations. After a while, her Gram followed her in. It was an old routine, each knowing the moves as they flawlessly set out the dishes. Tasha hesitated a moment before asking, "Should I set three?" "He'll sleep a good long time." Gram responded with a shake of her gray head. "Do you think those who attacked him will be coming here? Could they follow the tracks of the wagon?" Tasha asked a bit aprehensively. "They won't come here," Gram replied with a certainty that made Tasha relax. They ate quickly. Tasha's mind buzzed with all sorts of questions. "What do you think he was really doing in the forest?" She couldn't imagine he'd really gone there to try to befriend the monsters who were out there. "Foolish man... Probably a dare of some sort," Gram answered dismissively. "A dare? No, I don't see him as the type of man who would..." Tasha began. "How do you know what type of a man he is?" Gram interrupted. "You know nothing about him and yet you pick him up and bring him here to your home." "I didn't..." Tasha began in defense. "He climbed on the wagon, what was I to do?" "He's a stranger." "He was injured!" Tasha stated firmly. Gram opend her mouth as if to say more, but Tasha had always been taught that those in need were to be helped. All she could do was nod and murmured. "Yes... interesting... injuries." "You can heal them?" Tasha looked worried again, "He'll recover, won't he?" Gram reassured her, "He'll recover." The smell of the forest was in her nostrils, and another smell, one that was earthy and warm-blooded, an odor that excited her. The dark leaves slashed at her naked skin by as she sprinted through the forest. She could see the pale skin of the one she pursued. No matter which way he turned, she would catch him. He was only a few paces ahead... A bump and clang brought Tasha immediately awake, heart pounding, a fine sheen of sweat on her brow. She sat up, sniffing the air. The scent was here. She threw back her covers, slightly surprised she was not naked and that she had barefeet instead of paws. Paws? She must have been dreaming! There was a noise again. Someone was in the kitchen. "Bugger it all," he swore. He didn't hear her as much as sense that he was being stalked. The stranger turned, much more certain on his feet than earlier. Gram's ministrations had already resulted in an effect, apparently. "Tasha?" he hazarded, cursing that he left his blade beside the bed. At the sound of the voice, Tasha's dream left her and she was once again fully a young girl, though her eyes still seemed to be a bit more reflective than should be normal, she padded softly into the kitchen, her soft hair loose and slightly mussed from sleep. She clutched at the front of her nightgown, nervously, as she answered: "Sir, are you up? You shouldn't be up." She was amazed that he was even standing after the dosage of the Arantha he had swallowed. "I'm hungry, and you'll find that hungers are what control most animals, dearest girl," he chuckled. "Perhaps you can help find something to satisfy me and then I'll be happy to go back to bed." Tasha giggled, and came into the kitchen. "Sandwich?" She began to pull out bread, cheese and meat and cut it up for cold sandwiches. "Would you like some water? We also have ale...?" "Ale would be wonderful. I've burned a great deal of my reserves in the last day," he admitted. He tucked into the simple fare with gusto, washing it down with large gulps of the amber liquid. "So, tell me a bedtime story, young Tasha. A story of a young girl traveling through the woods to her grandmother's house and the wolf in sheep's clothing that stalked her." His smile hid something. "Surely you've wives tales of that sort here?" "Yes, we have similar tales here. Though... Actually..." Tasha's eyes seemed to glow faintly, as she recalled her dream, "I believe it is the young girl traveling to her gram's house who is the wolf and is stalking a handsome man fleeing through the forest." She smiled. Were her teeth slightly pointed? The stranger's hand settled on hers as she handed him the ale. "Wouldn't it be telling if we were in your tales instead of mine." He took the mug and smirked. "You wouldn't be the sort to leave marks all over my back would you?" "I? No... It's only a story...," Tasha's face burned, and though she withdrew her hand after passing him the refill of the ale, she secretly wished she were bolder and had reached for him instead. What had she been thinking to share her dream like that? Her emotions warred within her. He smiled, his eyes admiring the slim form beneath her nightgown as best as the lantern light allowed, no shame apparent. "Well, that's good, as I'm not sure I'm up to such treatment." Strong hands began to remove his shirt, displaying corded shoulders and where once there were deep furrows, now only red puckered skin showed. "Do things look better?" he asked, looking back over his shoulder at her. Tasha blinked, unable to turn her eyes away from his muscular shoulders. It took her a moment to realize he'd asked her a question and that the wounds she'd seen her Gram treat a few hours ago were well on their way to healing. She stuttered out an answer, "Y..yy.. Yes." She blinked rapidly again. How was this possible? "Amazing." She reached out a tentative finger and traced along the puckered skin. "Thank you," he chuckled after a tiny shiver at her touch. Turning back to face her, he grinned. "You're rather amazing yourself." The side of his hand grazed her cheek gently. She shivered, as well, not sure if it were due to the chill in the air. She hesitated before backing away, dropping her gaze. Noting that his snack was finished, Tasha commented, "We really should go to bed." Seriously, "Exactly." His gaze never wavered. Before Tasha could decide what he meant with that answer they were interrupted by a loud, "Hmph!" Tasha jumped, spinning around just in time to see her Gram coming in with her cane in hand. Was it Tasha's imagination or was Gram moving rather more swiftly than she had ever before? He smiled, knowing that his chances were slim in any case. "What is this then?" The old woman glared threateningly at the stranger. "He wanted a snack ... " Tasha began, waving a frightened hand toward the table with the remains from the sandwich and ale. "Really now," Gram didn't look convinced, and did look a bit worried. She had given him enough Arantha to put down a horse. "Well, snack time is over. Get back to bed..." and she hissed to the stranger as he went past, "Your own bed." "Yes, Ma'am," he answered, grabbing his shirt and sliding it on before heading back to the bed and lapsing into apparent sleep. He was sure that the women were asleep before he left himself, a kiss on Tasha's forehead in parting. Tasha smiled in her sleep at the kiss, but did not wake until the morning, when she discovered that the stranger had somehow left in the middle of the night. Tasha reasoned that her Gram must have heard him leave and gotten up, as Tasha saw that the door was locked. Tasha was disappointed, but couldn't quite say why. But now her daydreams were filled with more than the typical girl's dreams in Darkmoore, hers now were of escaping dangers in the forests and a mysterious man in need of rescuing. EOT
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