When the Boughs Break

[The Dungeon Master]

Eshket's heavy brows crimped together as she focused her eyes on the scrap of parchment. She squinted, tilted her head, then sniffed prodigiously. Only that last action brought any recognition, and a baring of fangs - her first show of any kind of aggression since entering the lodge.

"This was carried by an elf," she said. "An elf in green clothing was found sneaking about our camp four nights ago. I tracked its scent into the pass. This scent." She nodded at the scrap. "Our warriors killed it."

She glanced at the scrap again. "I have not seen this thing, nor the thing marked upon it."

[Serril Indaiyu]

Elves were the most common outlanders in the Moonwood. Some weren't even outlanders at all - there were a few bands of Moon Elves to the south who were good neighbors and fellow stewards of the Wilds. Silverymoon was close enough to the south that the Elves of the Silvery March would occasionally visit.

Windra frowned. The Gnoll didn't seem to be deceptive or misleading so far, but it seemed like she understood her questions only in a literal manner.

"This elf in your camp, did you see what they were doing before they were found out? Did they get close to this Tanar'ri?"

Crazy-Mountain had by now eased into a chair, which she sat hunched over in, propping herself with her club.

"What did you find on the body of this elf when the warriors killed them?"

[The Dungeon Master]

Eshket swallowed hard again as her eyes darted from one firbolg to another. "I do not know what it was doing. As soon as it was discovered, it ran. We found..." She sucked her teeth as she racked her panicking brain. "Leather armor. Dagger. Pouch with coin. Necklace shaped like green stag. We would have taken the body, but I heard movement in the woods. So we fled with what we had taken."

Her stomach growled. She had not eaten since the previous night, and she doubted she would be allowed to eat anytime soon. She licked her chops dolefully.

[Serril Indaiyu]

At that, Kam's breath caught. She looked to Sibi, who averted her eyes. The momentary shock was brought under control, and she turned her attention to Eshket again.

"You're a scout. Are you able to read a map? If we drew a map of the Moonwood, would you be able to show us the location of Tanar'ri's camp on it?"

Movement could be heard from the other side of the lodge. Kam's ears pricked at the sound, noticing Mr. Ounay grabbing a roll of paper and a lump of charcoal.

[The Dungeon Master]

Eshket watched hungrily as Kam began sketching out a map using a charcoal stump. At first she was lost in the shapes and lines, until she realized the dark, winding snake in the middle was the river Surbrin spilling down from the World's Spine and carving his path through the Moonwood, and those lumpy shapes represented the Frost Hills to the West, where the great dwarven stronghold of Mithral Hall delved deep into the roots of the earth. Between those hills and the edge of the Moonwood ran the Mithral Pass, choked by glacial ice and snow during the winter. Eshket's eyes devoured the map as she compared it to the one she carried in her own head.

She shuffled forward toward the paper on the floor, and held out one of her paws, still bound at the wrist to its partner. Once Kam had pressed the charcoal stub into her paw, she moved it to the map and began adding broad strokes. A narrow valley nestled within the Frost Hills, tucked away from the paths that ran between Mithral Hall and Settlestone. She added squiggly lines for streams fed by snowmelt which tumbled down steep crags to provide fresh running water. From such a valley, one could easily climb the cliffs and watch the whole length of the pass with impunity, or trek out through any number of canyon passageways into the pass and across into the Moonwood itself. Once she had sketched this valley, she placed a heavy, dark mark in the center of it and laid the charcoal down.

[Serril Indaiyu]

The elders and Sibi had begun to gather close in a semicircle around Eshket, watching intently where she placed her marks.

"Well-chosen ground." Crazy-Mountain conceded. "Plenty of open ground between the Frost Hills to the Wilds, and command of it all from where she sits. Difficult to scout, and with the melt in the pass, she could send war bands north of Menzoberranzan, or south through the Silver Marches."

"I'm familiar with the area." Windra knelt in front of the map, tracing a path along the Frost Hills with the tip of her dagger. "I was last there six seasons ago, but there's a path the bighorn take to graze to the south. It was barely fit for single file movement, but it should have enough concealment to get a few scouts close enough - if it still exists, that is. There's no telling where Dwarves will delve."

Windra paused.

"I'll leave at first light, and take a look myself."

Mr. Ounay cleared his throat. "Jobi is suited for this. He will join you."

Windra nodded, and returned her attention to Crazy-Mountain, "Before I go, we need to make arrangements for our guest. Storage room in the back should do. We'll also have to feed her."

"I can find some carrion." Sibi volunteered, trying to be helpful in a situation that was more and more escalating out of her control. "Barring that, I can kill to sustain her, Mother of Waters willing."

"In the morning." Kam replied adamantly. "We should not send anyone beyond the Grove at night unless necessary."

"Wise." Crazy-Mountain nodded. "They are skillful in the night. Better to face them on even terms."

The massive elder looked to the Gnoll again, and sighed.

"This must not leave the Moot, save for those who already know."

Kam spoke up, "My children will do what is asked of them." Which was sufficient for the horned matriarch, who nodded. She returned her attention to Eshket, drawing a simple knife. Crazy-Mountain gestured to Eshket's bonds, respecting her captive's distance and waiting for her to submit before cutting the bonds.

"My people call me Crazy-Mountain. What are you called?"

[The Dungeon Master]

Eshket bowed her head and stared, unfocused, as the moot descended into speech unknown to her. She could only guess at what they were planning. She had to pray that, by some miracle, they could repel the coming storm, because Eshket had thoroughly betrayed her former captors now, and could expect nothing better than bloody disembowelment if they overran the Grove. And that was if the firbolgs saw fit to let her live, and did not kill her for a confirmed traitor lest she betray them, too.

Her eyes snapped to the knife in Kam's hands, and she whined piteously until she realized the matron was pointing at her bonds and not her throat. She sunk her head low and extended her long, shaggy arms.

"Eshket," she replied. "In our tongue, it means Sparrow."

A back-handed compliment, for her first kill as a cub. An expenditure of effort, patience, and skill for a pitiful reward. The elders of her tribe said that names were prophetic. She had never believed that until now.

[Serril Indaiyu]

"Very well, Eshket." Crazy-Mountain shifted her weight, causing the wooden chair to creak slightly.

"You are our guest for now. We will protect you as any other creature under our covenant. You will remain here until the danger has been dealt with."

The horned matriarch looked around the room at the other elders. "If anyone disagrees, let them speak now."

Only silence followed, and Crazy-Mountain nodded at the unspoken affirmation.

"Then we know what to do."

Windra nodded.

"Mother of Waters, preserve us."

The elders and Sibi began to file out of the lodge, until only Crazy-Mountain and Mr. Ounay remained to keep vigil.

[Serril Indaiyu]

Sibi's attention stayed fixed on the Gnoll as most of the elders filed past her on the way out of the lodge. No outlander had set foot in Home Grove in her lifetime - maybe even her parents' lifetimes. Even their Moon Elf neighbors were kept at a polite distance. Now, they were taking prisoners they called guests. Now, they were killing people. She couldn't do what her mother asked. She couldn't pretend this wasn't tearing her apart.

She looked down at her hands. Long, broad fingers, well-calloused. She could still feel the treacle-like cling of drying blood in the creases of her knuckles and palms, even though she could see nothing there. The lodge suddenly felt small and stifling. Sibi pivoted sharply on a heel, desperate to get out into the open air. She brushed past Five-Elks, passing between the twin trunks of the giant live oaks, veering off sharply towards the Herd's kitchen before doubling over to vomit. Letting the last few heaves out, Sibi wiped her mouth and stood up to see her mother a few paces away.

"Daughter."

Away from the Moot, away from the rest of the family, Kam's face was a reflection of her daughter's, pain pushed to the surface.

"I'm sorry!" Sibi's eyes were swollen with tears.

"Why?! Why did you bring him with you?" Anger was raw in Kam's voice. "My only son! My youngest!"

Sibi tried to form words, but they caught in her mouth.

"Who's tracks do you think they were following? He's still a child! No matter what we expect him to become, it will take time for that to happen! But that won't happen if we're careless with his life, and lead..."

Kam's voice immediately silenced, as she was aware of their surroundings. She looked back at her oldest daughter. Angry. Sad. Scared.

"To say nothing of everything else that happened, and we should certainly say nothing here."

Mother and daughter spent a few moments in silence. Kam broke it at last.

"I have not been kind to you, Eldest Daughter. It isn't because I didn't want to. I had to be your mother. You want to be his friend, but he needs you to be an example."

"I thought I knew how to do that." Sibi's reply came weakly, her eyes downcast.

"There is always time to learn, Eldest. Even for me."

Kam reached for Sibi, who eagerly reciprocated the embrace.


Meanwhile in the kitchen, Serril sat against the wall nearest the window, his knees tucked up to his chest. He kept his hand over his mouth, just like Tatva told him. His middle sister chanced a glance out the window, catching sight of her mother and Sibi returning home.

"They're gone now." she whispered, easing back down to sit next to her little brother. Even in the dim light, she could see the reflection of tears, leading down his cheeks to his hand. They'd both overheard the argument. The raised voices. Tatva didn't know what to make of it, but Serril seemed to understand something.

"What's wrong, Climbs-a-Lot?" Concern formed in Tatva's eyes. Cautiously, Serril eased his hand from his mouth, and sniffed his runny nose.

"I'm not supposed to say." Serril offered, but finding no solace in the secret. Tears began to well again.

"I think I did something bad."

[Serril Indaiyu]

Even if Hana wasn't kicking and turning on their shared mattress, Serril knew he couldn't sleep. Guilt and fear ebbed and flowed like the tides, and intrusive thoughts broke any attempt at finding slumber. Sounds beyond the familial hut that he once found comforting and innocent now came to his ears muffled into the unknown. Every errant noise pregnant with inky malice. Each branch rustling in a passing breeze held the potential of a Gnoll stalking at the periphery of the Grove.

Untangling himself from Hana's arms and legs, Serril turned on his side towards where Sibi overflowed on her own mattress. He frowned upon seeing his big sister's back turned to him. She wouldn't want to talk to him anyway, after what happened. Serril sniffed his nose, looking at the blank spot on the wall where Sibi's spear usually rested. Not tonight. Serril's brow knit as he considered reasons why, liking none of them.

"I'm sorry." he whispered, watching his big sister's back rise and fall slightly with her breath in the firelight. She didn't budge.

The first sign that Serril had fallen asleep is that he was somewhere else. The Wilds beyond the Bramble. The scant light from the quarter moon above only relinquished enough light to add a highlight of dark purple to the depthless shadows. He could see his breath as he turned around in every direction, hearing movement in the trees beyond, circling him. His heart quickening into his throat, Serril bolted, running as fast as he could go. Something pursued him, evident by a heavy staccato footfall bounding along the detritus of the forest floor. Serril could feel the faint warmth of breath not far behind him, and he was too scared to dare look behind him. The trail he followed now took a few familiar bends. Hope quickened Serril's step as he ran up the final hill, seeing the warmth of home's light just over the crest. The pursuing beast was nearly on him, but he was almost here.

But as Serril crested that hill, that feeling of safety turned to ashes in front of him. The glow beyond the hill wasn't the comforting lanterns of home. It was the sacred oaks roiling in a conflagration. It was ruin.

And Serril had brought it with him.

[Serril Indaiyu]

Morning came without incident. No monsters, no gnolls, and no signs of anything malign in the grove. Sibi and Mama had already left the hut when he was awake, and they weren't anywhere in sight on the grounds. That probably meant patrol. The thought never worried Serril before. Now, the uncertainty gnawed at his insides.

Serril went about his chores by rote, his mind far away. Already, decorations were beginning to show up for the Festival of Blooms - some of the older kids were already creating flower braids through druidcraft which would be used to decorate the maypole. It was one of Serril's favorite times of the year. Now? It seemed jarring. About the only person in the family who seemed eager for it was Hana, and she energetically let everyone in the hut know how many days away the festival way, first thing in the morning.

"Come on Baby-Brother, there's only five more days till Festival Day!" Hana pulled Serril along by the hand, practically dragging him with her to help at the maypole. Bethri Ounay was the oldest kid who hadn't yet had their Enk-Skohba, so she was the boss - for another year anyway. She moved from station to station, making sure that the druids-in-training were creating the right kinds of flowers and in the right order. For the younger kids like Serril and Hana without any druid training yet, they could still help by stringing the braided blooms into the large floral streamers that would later be tethered to the top of the maypole.

"Bethri can we help with the flower braids?" Hana asked breathlessly, still pulling her little brother by the hand. Bethri was well into her growth spurt and already almost as tall as Tatva. Her curly, fire-red hair spilled down in ringlets, framing her pudgy, freckled-face. She paused from poring over a checklist with a nub of charcoal.

"Great, we can always use helpers! Okay, you and Serril can help Ibbe and Talks-to-Birds. Make sure you're braiding in at the white and purple blooms. It should go white to pink to red to blue to purple. Got it?"

"Got it!" Hana beamed. Serril said nothing, but Hana was being enthusiastic for the both of them.

Some discord within the production caught Bethri's attention, and her bright smile evaporated. Her fuzzy ears flicked, upsetting the nest of curly red hair they hid within.

"No, not like that Emphe, the stems are crimped. The flowers will wilt by the time the festival comes. Hang on, put it down, I'm coming over!"

As quick as Bethri approached, she vanished, off to put out yet another fire. Hana quickly went to work, finding a couple of finished flower braids and splicing them together to make a longer length. Serril likewise got a few braids, and they went to sit on a mossy rock to put their lengths together.

"Were you up when mama and Sibi left?" Serril found the repetition of braiding lengths of flowers calming in this situation, even if he wasn't in a festive spirit.

"Nope." Hana kicked her feet back and forth as they dangled over the rock, her fingers working supple flower stems to splice between others, then carefully tying them together so as not to bruise the stems.

He said nothing, continuing to work. Hana found the silence annoying, so she was determined to fill it.

"Why are you acting so weird, huh?" She blurted after three minutes of silence was too much.

"I'm not acting weird!" Serril defended himself, though his voice squeaked a little in his uncertainty.

"Uh huh! Ever since yesterday, you didn't come out to play, you were acting weird at supper, and you didn't even come to bed at bed time. And this morning, you're all...blaaaaah"

Hana mimed an extremely dour and grumpy series of facial expressions and sighs, finishing by blowing a strand of hair out of her face. Serril gave her a look, but couldn't argue against the caricature.

"I guess I have been a little weird." he conceded, focusing on connecting the next length of flower braid. "I got in trouble. I'm not really supposed to talk about it."

"YOU got in TROUBLE?!" Hana gaped, as did half the kids working on the flower braids. Serril gulped, feeling eyes on him.

"Sorry." Hana smoothed it over as best she could. The kids soon returned to their work, their short attention spans exhausted.

"Everything feels different this year." Serril tried to articulate his unease, even as he worked without a hitch. "I had a bad dream last night. I was alone, deep in the Wilds. Something started chasing me. I could tell it was bad, so I ran away as fast as I could. But then I came home, and everything was on fire."

It was a dark enough image to cause Hana's smile to ebb. She thought about it, then perked up.

"It's just a dream. I had a dream one time that Tut-Tut dug and found a candy treasure underground. The next day, I asked him to bring me what he found in the ground. It was grubs." Hana made a universal expression for yuck. "Not candy. Dreams can be silly and not make any sense. They aren't always supposed to."

He wanted to believe her. After all, he'd definitely had some strange dreams before. "Maybe. But it still didn't feel good."

"Well, think how good the Festival treats will be! Rosewater cream! Rhubarb pie! Honey tarts!"

Serril's ears perked, and at last a little smile peeked through the clouds.

"I do like honey tarts."

"And singing aaall the soooongs....then all the daaaancing around the maaaypole...and then the puppet shoooow..."

Serril was slowly being coaxed into good spirits by Hana's brute force method, letting the small hopeful smile linger a bit.

"Aunt Myrta's strawberry cake. I want strawberry cake."

Warm memories came back in rose-tinted recollection of Festivals of Blooms since past. From ritually chasing Auril away for another year to all of the food and merriment, it was the way the Herd marked the transition into spring. Sometimes it required a little druidic magic to encourage the growth if the spring days proved too chilly, but the day had already lost its chill early on. Serril indulged in fond memories of sitting on his papa's shoulders, trying to count all the lanterns hung from the oak boughs. There was the time when Gadroh Wannigan played a stage, accompanied by a full band! Sibi always made sure to get him a caramel apple before the bigger kids got them all. It was everything that made their community special, but brought together with even more generosity than usual. It was nice to remember, if only to be sure not to take it for granted.

"I should've known you two would be here." Tatva approached the arts and crafts station, wearing the blue woad of a herd scout.

"Of course, it's almost Festival time!" Hana made a face like only an idiot would expect them to be anywhere else, and her older sister laughed a little.

"Right, silly me," the older sister deadpanned, "You haven't happened to see Jobi around, have you?"

"Nuh-uh." Serril replied in negative, finishing securing another strand of flowers. He carefully began to work his completed section into a loose coil, mindful not to harm the stems or the petals.

"That goldbrick." She sighed, "We're supposed to be going on patrol together."

"You're going on patrol?" Interest quickened Serril's voice, and he paused working outright, looking up at Tatva. Now with his attention on her, he could clearly see a full quiver and a bow. Concern crept back onto his face.

"Don't worry, Climbs-a-Lot, just a once-around, and up to the Eyrie and back," Tatva reassured, then muttered "at least if Jobi shows up on time."

She caught sight of the fast-moving blur of red hair that was Bethri Ounay, and waved her down. "Hey, where's your brother? We were supposed to head for the Eyrie at the fifth cock's crow, and I can't find him."

Bethri rubbed a bit of charcoal off her cheek as she tucked her list away momentarily. "Oh, my da said Jobi to be up at first crow. Something about a special patrol with Miss Windra."

Tatva sighed, letting her arms audibly flop down at her sides, scoffing.

"What am I, chopped turnips? Ugh! Did he say who was replacing Jobi on the run?"

"Nuh-uh." Bethri was gone as soon as she said it. She didn't have time for whatever this was. She had flowers and a deadline!

"Great." Tatva replied sarcastically to nobody. "All dressed up for the ball and dancing alone. Guess I'd better go figure this out."

As she trudged off leaving her younger siblings weaving flowers, they looked at each other, and giggled.

"Tatva and Jobi sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!"