Wildfire Riders

He sent a letter out to each one of them, all he knew were involved with Fedwyn Earthsprung. Even those who might have some interest in helping. This wouldn't get them in danger's way.

"I need to speak with you, I need your help. See me as soon as you can. It involves dreams."

-Aleros"

To each that came to him, he gave them the same task.

"Fedwyn Earthsprung has become something more than just a night elf or a nightmare, he's becoming both and more, and his ultimate goal now is to merge with a dragon. A powerful dragon of the green flight. We must force him out of the dream and confront him, even if it means taking the dragon down with him. To do this, we're going to need to make an awfully big hole between the dreaming world and the waking world. To prevent any permanent damage to the dream, I need what is called Pure Dream Essence. It treats the hole like any ointment would a wound. It's somewhat rare, but the most common source is a kindred animal spirit, something everyone has. It is a spirit that has imprinted itself upon an individual and attached itself to them. Sometimes because of similar qualities, sometimes for similar habits, sometimes for reasons unknown, you may be surprised what yours is."

He hands them a small bottle of faintly glowing green liquid.

"A special potion made from Dreaming Lotus. A very rare plant. Take the potion before bed. Before you do, find an object, simple and small, that you think your animal spirit will appreciate as an offering. Hold it tightly in your hand when you go to sleep and in your dreams you will encounter your animal spirit. Offer it to them and in return ask them to grant you their boon. If they like you and your offering, they will do so. It may not work for you and you may get nothing. If they did, then you will awaken with a different object in your hand, an idol of your spirit and it is from that we can extract the pure dreaming essence. You'll also be able to keep the idol."

((

Be creative with this, your character's animal may not be what you or they expect it to be. They don't have to succeed in getting an essence, their animal spirit may not like their offering or their presentation enough, it's up to you. Not requiring anyone to do this, I know holiday stuff is going on and people are uber busy. It is a chance for people to be creative about their characters.

Note: You don't have to be specifically involved with the Fedwyn RP, Ale could send you a letter if he thought your character might be interested in helping this because your character might be in some way linked to the dream or to Threnn or to Indarra. It's up to you to decide if your character went to see Ale to follow up. Your character doesn't have to get involved with the story line beyond this. Ale just needs a good bit of dreaming essence.

))

I'm not involved in the Fedwyn RP, but the topic itself is entertaining enough.

Lans' "animal spirit" is nothing less than smilodon fatalis; a saber-tooth cat.

You know, stalks silently and explodes out of hiding to tear it's prey to pieces with absurdly huge fangs. And then goes to loaf about in that blandly casual manner that cats do, until it has to go kill something again.

Norvallen is probably some kind of extremely venomous snake. Just as prone to casually hanging about, but ask them to do something and it turns into a frigid murder machine.

Just when I was making progress in catching up..

Damn you and your awesome idea Ale. Damn you!

...

You were catching up?

Oh we can't have that.

Phileas looked doubtfully at the potion he held in one hand and the small furry object he had in the other. Dinnae ken 'f this'll work...mayhap my animal spirit'll be a mouse or summat. Bracing himself against the taste, the rogue chucked back the potion in one go and settled himself back against the pillows. In his right hand, his grip tightened around the fur-covered rabbit figurine as his eyes slid closed.

Phileas looked around, finding himself in the middle of a thick forest. The trees reminded him rather a lot of Elwynn Forest, but at the same time, he could also spot trees he'd only seen in Northrend. In the middle distance, he heard a trilling bark, something along the lines of a loon, maybe, that trilled and shifted to a "wow-wow" kind of sound and back. Curious, he followed the noise, moving as quietly as he could across the uneven turf. The trilling bark changed to a hoarse, squawking bark, then a rattling noise.

Caution, brother. Caution.

Phileas stopped as though he'd run into a wall. That voice was not familiar, and yet it was...and it was in his head. He spun around in startlement, desperately afraid he was about to find himself face to face with a Nightmare cat.

No fear, brother. I am here. You hunt, brother, yes? You hunt.

A flicker of movement off to his right. Phileas spun to meet it and found himself facing a large red fox. Now he'd seen foxes before, but never one quite this large...nor, he had to admit, had he ever seen a fox with gray eyes. The animal regarded him calmly, and the rogue would almost swear he saw a trace of amusement on its whiskered muzzle.

And here I am indeed, brother. What brings you to my territory where you should not be? And is that rabbit for me, perhaps?

"Aye." Cautiously, Phileas held out his offering, which, in this environment, had become a plump young rabbit, freshly killed. Gracefully, the fox took the rabbit in his mouth, and the rogue shivered as the animal's fur brushed his fingers in the taking. "I...I were sent tae seek my spirit animal. Leas', that's wha' Aleros said. Said he needed dreamstuff, tae help battle..."

Indeed, murmured the fox as he began to turn his attention to the rabbit. You do right not to mention that being by name here, brother. I am fond of my territory, and it would displease me to have to seek territory anew because That decided he wanted it.

"I dinnae ken abou' spirit animals...I'm jus' a rogue. I hope tha'll help me find mine."

Oh, you've found yours, brother. Though I cannot blame your doubts, since your very fine vixen has compared you to an entire zoo of beasts in the past. As the fox finished bolting as much of the rabbit as he could hold, Phileas watched the animal quietly.

Looking for similarities between "thee and me," as you'd say, brother? We are more alike than you'd think, little human, hair color aside. I'm neither cat nor dog, yet something a bit of both and in-between. And you are...well, you are as you are. Neither one nor the other but a bit of eitherwhich. And as I know you're going to ask...yes, I will give you my aid, brother. Though I do expect repayment of some kind later...perhaps another rabbit sometime? You have excellent taste in prey for a human, brother.

Phileas blinked, unsure of how to respond politely to that sort of offhanded compliment...or would it be off-pawed, given who it came from? "Erm...thanks."

The fox nodded, then sat, primly curling his tail around his feet. After a moment of solemn regard, the animal held out his right forepaw, the way Stormwind businessmen extended a hand to seal a bargain. Instinctively, Phileas extended his own hand to shake the fox's paw.

When they touched, a wave of heat flashed up his arm to settle across his shoulders, wriggling up towards his head and down towards his heart. As the scene before him faded to black, Phileas heard the fox's voice one more time.

Do not forget our bargain, brother. A deal is a deal...even to a fox.

When Phileas Lynch opened his eyes, he found a figurine of a fox in his hand where the rabbit had been. The figurine was posed the same way that Phileas had last seen the fox, sitting, with its tail around its legs and one paw raised. For a statue of a simple animal, the beast's expression was simultaneously far too knowing and far too amused for the rogue to think that what had happened was anything but absolutely real.

They all had their task, but he was equally bound to it. He took the potion that night before bed, a small plant held in hand as he went to sleep. He wasn't with Seylon that night, he let her know what he was doing. He slipped into dreams, but it was not the emerald dream. It was another plane of dreams along which different creatures existed.

He was in a large field, a dulling maroon sky above his head and tall waist high grass all around him. It wasn't what one would normally think of in a field full of tall grass though, the grass was pitch black, like staring into an abyss of fibers waving in the wind. Although it was hard to see the rustling of the creature coming his way, he knew it was there.

"It's good to see you, old friend."

Two golden eyes appeared among the black. "You do not visit often, what brings you to me now?"

"I come to ask of another boon." He answered politely. "And I bring gifts." He held out his hand with the leaves of catnip in them. The panther leaned forward and sniffed it.

"You think me so easily won over by simple pleasures?"

Aleros smiled, "I know you too well."

The panther eyed him for a moment, then a rough tongue took the catnip from his hand. "I suppose you do." There was a dull rumbling purr and the eyes disappeared.

"I am curious, why a panther now? You've changed each time I've seen you."

The cat didn't answer, taking his time with the catnip. Aleros waited patiently until the panther again chose to spoke. "You change, all you creatures change. Most beings do not visit us more than once in their lives. I have appeared to you before as a tiger when you were inexperienced and brash, seeking excitement and knowledge. I have appeared to you as a lion when you sought many mates at once. As a leopard you were careful and guarded, trusting only those closest to you. Now I appear to you as a panther. You have chosen a mate although you often hunt alone, carefully and quietly. You do not seek out others often and let them go about their ways, preferring your own solitude in your hunts."

He took in the panther's words in.

"I have granted you what you came for." There was another long pause. "Why do we not receive many visits? Many millennium ago we often did not go a month without a visit seeking advice, now it seems most never even notice us."

"Your knowledge of our lives, of us, is indeed great and insightful. You can teach us many things we do not know and we would indeed benefit greatly from all of us visiting. However Dreaming Lotus has become extremely rare. There is a presence in the dream that creates less than ideal conditions for it to grow like it used to. Had we more, all of you would see a lot more of us."

"I see. Then it cannot be helped. Even so, many have begun to feel neglected, our world changes without the interaction from yours."

"Perhaps soon all will be better, and some of the more reckless creatures of our world can seek your wisdom."

The golden eyes peered at him. "I will hope for that, for your sake and ours." The eyes disappeared, and the creature was gone.


He awoke, in place of the catnip was a small cat statuette. It was black. He'd place it along side the others of differing colors.

Ballacks. Buncha hokah elemen'al shite.

It was the fourth time he had considered a similar thought since returning from his meeting with Aleros. But the vial was still in his hand when he returned to his quarters in Dalaran. Mia had returned to Stormwind since he had sent her on to Wintergarde without him. He had sent messages to reassure her that he was alive and well, but had received absolutely nothing from her in return. He had word she was home, though, through other sources. He was going to be paying for his little trip for a long time to come.

Now the room he returned to was no so welcome as the inn proclaimed it to be. That was all right, though; there was much worse.

Threnn. Bah tha Laight, don' be ah goosesteppin' gob. If'n tha Druid says it'll 'elp, it'll 'elp.

He needed something that meant a great deal to him. By his reckoning, that was the only kind of offering one could make; depart with something that meant a great deal - and not by the standard of greed or gluttony - and then you might show your worth. That he could understand. Getting fanciful items from an ethereal spirit attached to one's self he was less understanding of, no matter how many assignments he might have up here in the North.

Jolly looked around his room with a heavy eye. There were his saddlebags brought up from the stables, filled with sundries and other odds and ends necessary for survival out on the front. Two armors stands stood near the door, one empty and awaiting that which he wore now, and the other holding a second set, gleaming and polished with the Lion of Stormwind on the front. It was paltry in comparison to the masterwork of his long-gone home, but it did well enough. A weapons rack stood on the other side of the door, with a long spear, an axe, a hammer, three swords and a battered shield with the Lordaeron crest faded on its front. One of the swords was pitted and had long since lost its edge. It was unornamented, the grip plain leather, the hilt worn steel. It was the first sword he had ever carried into battle. he thought it as lucky, as he'd lasted this long with it in his possession. He wouldn't tell another soul that, as he didn't want to seem a fool.

He pulled off his gauntlets and put them on the stand, then removed the vial from his belt pouch. Taking up the sword from the rack, he removed it from its sheath and headed over to the bed. He didn't bother undressing - he wouldn't stay longer than necessary. Settling himself well enough on the rumpled blankets, he clutched the sword to his chest, and then drank the foul-tasting concoction.

He felt as if he fell staright from the waking world to land where he lay now, the snowdrift all about him. A foul blizzard blew down through craggy mountains that clung to the sky like a lovers' terrified embrace. He pulled himself up out of snow that wanted to pull him deeper, lumbering like a brute through the heart of winter itself. The Storm Peaks. No gryphon would carry him swiftly from here on airy wings. He had no idea what to expect here.

A shadowy shape loomed out of the blowing snow before him a fair distance away. It came forward just enough for him to make out. A long horn greeted him, with deep-set eyes in a shaggy face. The mouth was wide and turned down in a permanent frown. It snorted, lifting its head and shaking out some of the snow. A large, broad hoof scratched at the deep snow, making it plain what would come next.

So. You come. What you seek, I have. But you must face what comes head on. Unafraid.

The shaggy rhino began a trot, and then a full on gallop towards him. Jol looked down at the sword in his hands, then up at the rhino barreling down the pass at him. His brow came down angrily then, and nine kinds of curse came to his mind for that Druid and his foul-tasting vial of glop. A growl rose forth from the back of his throat, and the sword came up. He didn't roar, or shout a challenge. Instead, Jol hunkered his shoulders forward and charged ahead, biting back all fear and panic and rushing to meet the rhino head-on. He didn't know if he could die here in this dream, but he wasn't about to let some hokey nature-magic make him back down. The blowing snow blurred his vision, but the force coming toward him was big enough that he didn't have to see more than the size of it, growing larger and filling up all that his eye could see. Both man and beast lowered their heads, Jol's sword held out point first and clutched in a deathgrip from both hands. Sword and lowered horn met, and the world shattered in a splintering of ice shards.

Jol didn't know if he was dead or dreaming still; he lay on his back beneath a clear sky, with the Peaks still clawing above all around him. The ground beneath him felt...warm? Here? It didn't seem right, but it was. The sun shone, and now as he looked around, he was in a verdant valley of green pastures, with trees all along its edges. Everywhere he looked, small herds of rhinoceros grazed placidly in clumps here and there. He picked himself up off of the ground, looking around and seeing that he was surrounded by them, but none paid him mind. Save one, a shaggy-haired brute that towered over the rest. It plodded along towards him, but without its head lowered. Jol stood there stonily until the beast came within arm's reach of him, and it moved its head to one side to regard him with a deep set eye filled with knowledge.

You have the heart for it. And the stubborn will. I know.

The Paladin's mouth was dry. "Ah seek--"

I know what you seek. What you are here to offer. I am pleased, Jolstraer. I will trade you your offering for that which you seek, and we shall be equals.

The bull rhino's horn began to shine, like steel - pitted, well-worn steel. The sword had gone from Jol's hands, and in its place was a horn of pure, smooth ivory. Jol looked back up tot he shaggy beast and bowed his head in thanks.

May you know many heifers to give you calfs, Jolstraer of Taborwynn.

The world faded, and he stirred to find himself back on his bed in Dalaran, with the sounds of night filtering through the windows. He looked down to find the horn in his hands, and his long-suffering sword gone. He let out a long breath, concern and regret warring on his face. "'Is bettah work, Ale." Fer Threnny.

What to bring. What to bring. As he was a druid, it should have been easy for Haemon to figure out what he was going to encounter, but somehow, being connected to so many animals just made it all the harder. His animal? He spent most of his time as a tree. Was he going to come face to face with the noble Oak? Perhaps the fierce Ivy?

"Hey, look on the bright side, elf," declared the ever present voice in his head. "If you screw up with your animal, at least I'm sure to get something outta mine." Era, the grinning, sentient panther who shared his body, was quite confident with the catnip he'd chosen. "Maybe it'll be someone I know, maybe I'll get a date outta this."

"You do that," the elf replied dryly. It would have been so much easier if only Era -was- his spirit animal. But not only was the cat not druidic in nature, he was far too earthbound to be considered a mere spirit any longer.

With a sigh, he reached into his backpack, hand closing around an old worn trinket he used to favor back when he rode more and flew less. At least if his spirit animal didn't like it, he wouldn't be crushed if the beast destroyed it anyway. The potion vanished down his throat, and he drifted into unconsciousness.

Dreams found him in Dun Morogh, warm despite the blindingly bright snow that carpeted the landscape. It must have been high noon, for almost nothing seemed to escape the sunlight; not even the mountains seemed to cast a shadow. He himself sat in the lone bit of shade, beneath a fir whose needles glimmered with ice crystals.

Lost in admiration of the scenery, he did not hear the animal coming. He wouldn't have regardless, so silent was its approach. It wasn't until he felt the light nuzzle of fur at his ankle that he looked down and noticed the rabbit. Snowshoe. A tiny brown and white little fellow that he remembered; his first pet in the new world. His wife had named the creature, and he couldn't for the life of him remember what that name was.

Fluffy, maybe?

He leaned forward, offering it the carrot that was in his hand and setting aside the stick to which it had been tied. Delighted, the bunny set to his meal, and no sooner had he done so than there were two of him.

The druid's mind accepted this as perfectly normal. Yes, it decided, skirting normal logic, rabbits multiply. It's what they do. And sure enough, two became four, and four, eight. They were not identical; while their progenitor was brown and white, none had the same markings. Some even bore black or orangeish spots. As the crew grew to sixteen, thirty-two, albinos and solid colors cropped up. Perfectly natural variation within a family tree...

One hundred twenty-eight rabbits formed more than a complete circle around him and the tree, and by five hundred twelve they were replacing the snow as carpet, filling the immediate area so densely that he began to wonder vaguely if they intended to let him leave. When one thousand twenty-four pairs of clear black eyes simultaneously turned to him, he knew the answer was no.

"All right," he conceded to the four thousand ninety-six long ears that twitched at him. Longears are too damn pretty. "I get it. You are very fertile. And you are fertile in an entirely natural manner. And that..." The eyes went wide. Now he got it. "That is my purpose. I sought you out and now..." He tilted his head, and eight thousand one hundred ninety-one rabbits vanished, scampering off in every direction. Only his own pet was there to wiggle his nose affirmatively when he whispered his question. "Am I on the right track?"

Pleased and satiated, the bunny hopped up into his arms, shimmied into place, and curled up to sleep. It would have been the perfect end to a peaceful dream.

Naturally, that was when the air was rent with screams. Yowls, really. "OFF! LEAVE ME ALONE!" From miles away, and with quick approach, came the voice of his literal other half. "LEAVE OFF! GET AWAY!" The black streak stood out against the white as he plummeted down the mountainside, surfing the snow tides with expertise born of panic, and sprinkled with the occasional faceplant. Behind him, far more adept at maneuvering the icy slope, was a great mound of shaggy fur. While it had few characteristics to distinguish itself past the title "beast," the hanging tongue and resounding bark marked it as most definitely canine. "YOU BIG SMELLY UGLY BALL OF SLOBBER GET BACK TO THE NETHER WHERE YOU BELONG!"

"Here boy!" The sharp whistle that the elf gave as he stood did not rouse the rabbit, but did draw the dog's attention from his affectionate pursuit of his spiritual match. In his hand waved the stick he'd set aside. "Come on, boy! You want the stick? Go get the stick!" He'd never have guessed he could hurl a stick over a mountain, and under any other circumstances--reality, in other words--he couldn't have. But here he did, and with only slight reluctance, the dog flounced off back the way it had come, dutifully participating in the long-distance game of fetch.

Era approached with all the calm nobility of an electrocuted mouse. Though the dog spit that left his fur in uneven spikes was only of dream manufacture, he was unwilling to commit his tongue to removing it, and so he merely pretended it didn't exist. Pretended he didn't look like an idiot. "We won't talk of this again. Understand?"

Haemon grinned.

When he awoke (in a tangle of his own limbs on the floor), he felt better rested than he had in ages. The catnip from his left hand was strewn about the inn room, ruined for any of the feline persuasion. The carrot on a stick was gone entirely. In its place in his other palm was a small golden hare figurine with eyes of bright, smooth onyx.

Thanks to Marty I've got some good background for this - now just need to wait until I"m home and can write it!

(I will have to edit this, but I wanted to get something accomplished at work today)

"A special potion made from Dreaming Lotus. A very rare plant. Take the potion before bed. Before you do, find an object, simple and small, that you think your animal spirit will appreciate as an offering. Hold it tightly in your hand when you go to sleep and in your dreams you will encounter your animal spirit. Offer it to them and in return ask them to grant you their boon. If they like you and your offering, they will do so. It may not work for you and you may get nothing. If they did, then you will awaken with a different object in your hand, an idol of your spirit and it is from that we can extract the pure dreaming essence. You'll also be able to keep the idol."

Ale's words brought little comfort to Bricu as he clutched a caribou steak on the couch. He looked skeptically at the cut--it was a decent cut of meat, right off the shoulder--hoping that his "spirit animal" wasn't a herbivore. He drank the druid's potion as any good patron of the Pig and Whistle should: Quickly and without coughing. "Nasty shite yeh druids make..." he said to his pengu, Sasha. She squawarked in response.

Lying on the couch, he crossed his arms and closed his eyes. Bricu allowed himself to relax and let the past weeks catch up with him once again. Training, hunting, chasing after spirits... He found himself being overwhelmed with thoughts and let them wash over him. Giving into his exhaustion, he fell asleep.

Bricu pushed through the fog and haze and walked the green hills of Arathi. Scrub brush and stone for miles around. He did not hear the music of the Travellers--his people now--nor did he see any animal spirits. Thishe thought, is fuckin' ballacks. He shielded his eyes and glanced at the sun. It was setting in the west. I could wait here an' let somethin' find me, or I can go off on me own. Bricu rolled himself a cigarette and headed North.

In his dream, Bricu had no weapons (other than the service dagger he always kept in a boot) and no armor. He held the steak in his left hand, and kept his right hand on his tobacco pouch. He walked for miles, but the landscape never changed. By his reckoning, Bricu should be closer to mountains by now. He veered westward, towards the Hillsbarad road, but still he made no progress. Think yeh feckin' tosser. Dream logic. Dream travels...find yer bloody spirit guide. The caribou steak he carried was still wet and slick with fresh blood. No flies or hornets buzzed around his offering--a blessing of the Dream perhaps--but he couldn't see or hear the spirit he was looking for. But what the fuck am I lookin' for?

Bricu stopped his wandering. He set the steak out on a flat-topped boulder and looked for a hiding spot. He found one, a cracked boulder not thirty paces away, and waited. Bricu, always thinking, stubbed out his cigarette and pitched it away before actually hiding. Bricu waited for hours on end. When he lost feeling in his legs, he noticed a small red furry shape approach the steak. It approached the steak cautiously. It came into Bricu's view only briefly--it looked like a fox--before it darted back around the stone. It jumped up onto the rock and began to chew on the steak. Satisfied that his guide took his offering, Bricu emerged from his hiding spot. The fox watched him carefully. He approached, palms outstreched, having the faintest clue of what to do.

"there there...nice Spirit guide. Yeh wee thing. Aleros said if yeh took me offerin' yeh'd grant me some spirit...boon. So where's this boon?"

The fox said nothing as it gulped down the remains of the steak.

Bricu rolled another cigarette.

The two watched each other for minutes. How the hell does a fuckin' fox grin?, he wondered. He reached down to pet his guide when the fox bit him on the hand. "STREWTH!" He yelled. Bricu drew his left hand back--he was, in fact, bleeding--and reached for the cigarette that fell out of his mouth. The fox, quicker than expected, lunged for the cigarette than ran off with it. It stopped a paces ahead of him. In a voice that was not quite his sisters, it said to him.

Yeh're a thick headed, thick limbed an' think tongued ponce, aren't yeh?"


"OI! Get back o'er here an'..." Bricu stopped. "I'm not arguin' with a fuckin' fox."

Figures yeh lazy sod. Not up ta a challenge then? Come on yeh weasely rat-fuck. Catch me so I can dispense wisdom.

"I gave yeh yer offerin' yeh fuckin' tosser!"

"That was an offerin'? Fuck, that was a measely bribe. Get off yer arse an' follow me fuckin' rules boyo!"

With that, the fox sprinted off to the east. Bricu, lacking anything better to do, ran after.

--

Fox didn't keep up a break neck pace. She slowed to let Bricu catch up. Occasionally, she would throw out an rather stinging--and vulgar--insult to keep Bricu motivated. He'd have to catch her to strangle her, so he ran as fast as he could. After what felt like an eternity, he finally caught up to her.

"Now then, Fox, let's talk boons." He said to his guide.

Boons are granted to a victor. Not to a fat arsed gobshite who can run for a few minutes!

Fox then ran into her burrow, leaving Bricu to the world above.

"OI! That's shite!"

Fox did not respond. Bricu looked left and right, to make sure no one was intruding on his dream, then jumped in after her. He crawled like a solider, arm over arm, through her home. He couldn't see her in the pitch black, but he heard her laughing. Bricu was sure that, to anyone else, it was a "Yip Yip!" But this being his spirit guide, he knew she was laughing at his expense.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Bricu saw that the burrow opened up into a large cave. Laying down on an out-cropping, Fox watched as Bricu squirmed his way into the cave.

About time yeh got here. Now, yeh want me boon, yeh do me work.

"Yeh bit me, stole the food an' me smoke. Now yeh want me ta work?! What kinda boody arsehole are yeh?"

I'm part o'yeh, yeh right tosser. Now shut yer gob an' get yer arse ta work 'for I nip yer stones off fer 'bein a rude bastard.

"A cave. A fuckin' cave? Yeh think this shite's beyond me ken? Death, rebirth? Yeh writin' Lovelace novellas now, yeh bint!"

His totem said nothing. She looked through him, making Bricu even angrier.

Bricu found himself holding a pick axe. He swung with all his might at his totem. She easily dodged the axe, but a chunk of peridot was knocked from where she was laying. He started another swing, but Fox scooped up the gem and laid it at Bicu's feet.

Here! Oi, Git! Look here! She yelled at him. Subltly things now Boyo. Subtle. Too much noise might wake a Dragon!

Bricu stopped his swing halfway down, nearly throwing his shoulder out. He set the pick axe to the floor of the cave and picked up the peridot. He wiped it clean on his trousers, then watched as fox sat neatly at his feat.

Now carve me.

Bricu loomed over Fox, staring daggers at her.

Oi, come now boyo. Yeh can't hate me. I'm far too pretty ta hate.

The two stared at each other for a few more moments. Bricu broke first, laughing as hard as as true as he had ever laughed in the Pig.

"Clever an' comely. Now then, where are me tools?"

Fox said nothing as Bricu's tools appeared next to his feet. Shaking his head, he slid to the floor and sat besider Fox. She moved her head and rested it in his lap. He scratched her behind her ears--the two sighed contentedly.

Bricu started carving and polishing the peridot into her shape. It was slow work, chiseling, carving and smoothing the gem, but slowly Fox appeared out of the gem. Hours later, Fox looked at her sister in peridot.

That's clever work mate.

"Thank yeh lass. Now what?"

The part where I'm clever.

Bricu glanced down at Fox. When he exhaled, she inhaled. Bricu felt his chest tighten--and his heart nearly stop--as she stole his breath. He watched it leave his nostrils and flow into hers. She held his breath for a matter of moments, then exhaled on to her likeness. The peridot had a faint glow about it.

Bricu found his breath when her ritual was over.

"That's it? Yer boon is a sculpture o'yerself?"

With the breath of life. Yer druid should be able ta get what he needs. When he is done, keep yer statue. Let that vain cat fucker try an' hurt yeh in the dream now.

"Will do." Bricu said to Fox, scratchign behind her ears. He closed his eyes and started to drift off to another dream.

Oi! Boyo! No rest fer the Wicked!

Fox bit Bricu on the right hand. He awoke, on the couch, with a start. The peridot fox fell to the ground with a clatter. As he bent to pick up his trinket, he noticed his hands were bleeding.