"Where's Fen?"

Collier looked up from the fire he was trying to start and looked at his grandfather. Aksel was sitting on the ground rubbing his feet, staring at Collier. Collier returned his blank look, then glanced around the surrounding clearing. The day was waning, and they needed to start a fire and find something to eat. According to Aksel, they still had another day of traveling before they came across a town.

The absence of the giant dog didn't unnerve Collier. "He's always off somewhere," he said, returning to the fire.

"Not by the time we settle," Aksel grunted, leaning back against his pack of belongings. "I don't want him getting into trouble."

"I'll look for him, but I'm sure he's fine," Collier murmured. He sat back on his heels with a proud smile as the fire came to light. It was almost too hot to make one, but they would need it for cooking. Maybe the reason for Fen's absence was that he'd caught something to eat...If Collier was lucky he might be able to coerce the dog into bringing his kill back.

"Just keep feeding the fire, I'll be back soon." Collier stood up and wandered away into the trees nearby. As he walked he began to hear something strange, and after a few moments he realized what it was. It was running water, like a river.

There wasn't supposed to be a river nearby.

He approached the water's edge and frowned at it. According to Aksel they were miles from any river, especially the Oran river. This wasn't the first time Aksel had miscalculated their position, but most of the time he attributed that to their being in a new country. They'd only been in Thiasa a few months, after all. But now he wondered if Aksel's mistakes weren't because of his age. Old people tended to forget things, and get lost. Physically, Aksel's condition had improved remarkably since moving to the warmer climate. Mentally, Collier couldn't tell.

As he stared at the water he was belatedly reminded that those barbarians were on the other side. He looked at the shore on the other side and slowly backed away. As far as he could tell there was no one there, but the natives were surely better at camouflage than he was. The river at this particular point wasn't terribly wide, but it was still flowing rather quickly. Collier knew how to swim, but he wasn't interested in taking a dip, no matter the heat. The current made him wary, not to mention the fact someone else could be out there on the other side.

Then there was a sound from the other side of the river, like twigs and brambles snapping. Collier let out an involuntary shriek, but then gaped in shock at the form that came out from the bushes.

"FEN!" he yelled, stomping up to the water's edge and grimacing. "What're you doing over there? Come back here right now!"

The great brown dog blinked lazy eyes. He was sopping wet and had a dead rabbit in his mouth. Collier's mouth began to water at the sight of it and he was reminded of his hunger. He crouched by the water and splashed the water with his hand, smiling at the dog.

"C'mon boy, bring that here, all right? We'll all eat together, ja?"

Fen plopped his rear on the ground and made no move to cross the river.

"FEN!"

Maite didn't usually come so close to the border, but she was... she needed to get away from the Gathering. The feasting didn't start until the next day, and, giving the excuse of a long-ranging hunt, she set off on her horse, Pinpil. Why? Why was always an interesting question. Well, Otsoa had his spirit back, so he hardly needed her. Her son was with his grandfather as always. And she had no-one, so why not go out and spend some time alone?

She leaned close over Pinpil's neck, urging the horse on. She could feel the heat and sweat of his hide, which was growing slippering with lather. Her trousers and tunic too clung to her body. She had enough time to bathe in any convenient river, of course. Some even ventured into the Oran, though it was hard by the interlopers' fearsome garrisons. Still, it was wide enough that she didn't really fear.

They'd just drawn close enough to the border that she'd begun to question her own judgment--was it really the best of plans to get so close to the interlopers, now there was talk of war?--but the plaintive sound of a child's voice settled it.

Maite slid down from Pinpil and moved quietly toward the source of the cries, which were almost drowned out by the Oran's roar. "Aizu?" she said tentatively. No--it was somebody speaking Scalian. She knew almost none of the language, but she'd picked up a couple of words from people who had known the odd missionary or trader. "I helps!" She moved toward the sound of the voice, her hands held up to show she didn't have weapons--while her hunting knife hunt at her side, her bow was back on Pinpil. "Oh." There was a large dog sitting by the water, complacently staring across the broad, foamy expanse. "Dog your?" she called, cupping her hands around her mouth.

Collier had resorted to Norse phrases of a questionable nature in order to get Fen to cross the river. While he ranted the dog just stared at him with lidded eyes, water dripping from every little hair on his body (and he had quite a lot of hairs). Collier had always suspected that Fen retained some kind of attachment to the old country, moving at a glacial mental pace. It was almost like another Aksel. It was worse than Aksel. And Collier was sure the dog wasn't more than a couple of years old.

He was beginning to think the only way to get to the animal was to cross the river and usher him back. The river still looked a bit ominous, running swiftly downstream. If he was unable to make it across at this point he could be swept well into barbarian territory. It was unnerving enough just being there on the border. And he doubted very much that Fen would follow him like a normal loyal dog.

With a sigh he dropped his head and ceased his calls. Well, swimming it was. And if he didn't hurry Fen might eat the rabbit. He grimaced at the water, and then sat back to pull his slippers off. As he leaned back, he finally noticed something other than Fen on the other side of the river. It was a person, a...man? It was wearing pants, but it didn't strike Collier as a male. The outfit overall was very rustic and strange, almost unisex, but there were certain subtle curves Collier couldn't help but notice. And she had very long black hair.

Wait...black hair? Strange clothes? On the border?

"AHH!" he screamed. His reaction was so violent he lost his footing and slipped into the river. Luckily he didn't slip very far, and only his legs were covered by the water. It was shockingly cold after the heat from the sun, but Collier wasn't paying attention to that anyway. His eyes stayed locked on the barbarian. Fen turned his head to look at her.

"Dog your?" she called.

Collier tilted his head. Had he heard right? That sounded like Scalian....Bad Scalian, but Scalian nonetheless. Maybe she was sort of a...civilized barbarian. There were missionaries who traveled down there, after all. They strove to teach them about "proper" religion and language. He guessed their teachings hadn't been in vain. The person, woman, was a little less scary now that he knew they could speak the same language. Sort of.

"Ja...Er, yes!" he cried. "My dog Fen!" He realized he was slipping further into the river thanks to the current, and quickly turned around to scramble out of it. He was drenched, but it was tolerable thanks to the heat. He stared at the person on the riverbank, standing next to his dog. Fen was perfectly content, the mongrel. He even stood up and began to sniff the woman.

Maite squinted across the river, and felt a pang of remorse. She'd scared him! And he was just a boy. Perhaps hovered on the edge of manhood, but still so small, and so soft and pale, he reminded her of a strange version of her son.

"Safe, safe!" she called, trying to indicate she wouldn't hurt him. Then she turned to the dog, which had begun snuffling at her, and dropped to her knees.

"You're being very bad," she admonished it gently in her native tongue. "Come on now... Fen." The way he'd said it had sounded like a name, though the syllables were indistinct over the rush of the white-foaming water. "Go back to your boy. Come on." She took the dog by the back of his neck, her hand firm on fur, flesh and bone, and started to wade into the river. She had meant to bathe anyway, and if the wetness of her clothing revealed her body, her Baskari ethos meant that this was a nonissue. The Endikai bathed in mixed company all the time, though less so once they reached maturity.

The dog whined, looking up at her, and Maite frowned. Was there some danger she wasn't seeing? It didn't seem so. "Come on." She clucked her tongue at the animal, urging him forward, and at last gave in and gave him a slap on the rump. He surged forward, paws flying, sending water splashing in all directions. Maite sputtered and wiped the dampness from her eyes, then opened them to see the dog swimming back toward his master.

"Safe!" she called again, cupping her hands around her mouth; it was one of the few words she knew in Scalian, but it was useful.

"Safe, safe!"

Collier gawked. Safe? What did that mean? She was gesturing strangely, and he couldn't tell if she meant the river was safe or Fen or even herself. He could see something long strapped to her side that looked like some kind of knife. That didn't look terribly safe to him, thank you very much. But it wasn't a sword or a spear or anything like that. He and Aksel had weapons of their own they carried with them. If she was wandering around alone, it made sense for her to have something to defend herself with.

Still, he kept his eyes on her. She could probably throw the knife and hit him square between the eyes. His head was an easy target.

He watched as she knelt beside Fen and began talking to him. He wondered if the dog understood her. The barbarians supposedly had a connection to nature that Thiasans and other foreigners didn't think about. Collier had a mild connection, what with solstices and animal sacrifices and crop rituals, but it was nothing compared to the barbarian beliefs. Or so he heard.

Whatever she was saying didn't seem to work either way, as Fen was reluctant to jump into the river again. The woman dragged him down, wading in herself. Collier took a step towards them with a cautionary hand, but knew he couldn't do anything to help. She was surely used to the river and its current, and she wasn't slipping and sliding like he'd been. Fen was still resisting, and it took a whack to his rump to send him into the river.

Despite himself, Collier let out a laugh. Served the dog right!

Fen paddled across the river huffing through his nose. The rabbit was thankfully still in his mouth. The current carried the dog a little ways downstream, and Collier followed him with encouraging words until the dog had made it to solid land. Collier laughed as Fen shook himself, and promptly loped off. "Hey, take that to bestefar!" Collier said, hoping the dog would understand him.

He turned back to look across the river and gave an exuberant wave of his arm to the woman. She must not have been so bad after all. "Thank you!" he called. "Are you all right?"

All right--that one she understood.

"Yes!" she shouted. "Good, good!"

Maite backed away, keeping one eye on the little boy and his dog. He was so light-colored! She had never seen hair that white and fluffy before, and she felt her heart soften toward him even further. It was a very sad thing that they had to go to war, but at least they wouldn't kill women and children. Not like the Thiasans, who didn't care who you murdered so long as you were Baskar. Sometimes she thought it might be better if they were like that, but no, no, she could never wish for children to die. As long as Ekaitz stayed safe. She felt selfish only caring for her own son, but there it is.

In Baska, though he wouldn't understand her, she added, "Go with Eguzki's blessings!" and blew him a kiss. Then she turned, still with one eye on the little boy, in case someone came for vengeance, and walked back to her horse.

At least the water had refreshed her a little, even if she smelled like dog.


((OOC: now, I should say, timeskip and Conn can find them sometime later?))

((OOC: Sounds good to me!))


"Yes!" she shouted. "Good, good!"

Collier grinned widely at the woman as she backed away onto the shore again. He couldn't believe they'd been talking with each other! He would hardly call her barbaric. She wasn't scary or dangerous or violent; she had helped him! If she hadn't been there he might have had to cross the river himself to get Fen, and he could have been swept away. Deeper into Barbarian lands.

Then she called something out to him that definitely wasn't Scalian. His smile faltered slightly, wondering if she was mad or happy. His unasked question was answered when she...blew him a kiss?! Is that what she did? Collier was stunned for a moment, going over the gesture again in his mind. It looked like she had done that...Maybe it was just his imagination. Either way, he smiled and blushed and turned to follow Fen back to Aksel.

He recounted his adventure to his grandfather as he prepared the rabbit he'd swiped from Fen. The dog was sulking a ways off, but stuck around in order to get his part of the meal. Aksel was impressed by the interaction between the boy and the barbarian and asked several questions.

"All right, it's done," Collier said, whipping out a knife and carving up the rabbit meat. He tossed some to Fen before handing some to Aksel. Fen let out a whimper, and Collier turned to grimace at the dog.

"There's no more, so don't..." His voice trailed off when he saw someone nearby in the woods, just walking by. It wasn't a barbarian...was it? Did the woman from the river follow him? Actually that might not be a bad thing; she had been nice to him and even sort of gave him a kiss. Then again it could be just a regular Thiasan traveler, just like them.

Collier stood up and ambled a bit ways from the fire, carefully looking around for the figure he'd seen. "Hallo?"

Conn had abandoned Freedom back in the woods, as usual. There was no sense in tempting fate, not when he was approaching someone--a horse was a sign of wealth, and sometimes he didn't like to appear wealthy.

In this case, the people looked like traveling performers. He was on his way to the garrison, and not many people were around the ill-trod paths he traveled. So it paid to check up on who was. Either you found them, or they found you--sometimes late at night, and sometimes for purposes Conn didn't like to think of. But this pair seemed harmless enough. The little boy even reminded him of his brother, as he had been. Before all this strange hardness had crept into him.

Before he'd become--well--what? Conn wasn't sure.

"Hallo!"

He ducked out from beneath the cover of branches, and waved. He wouldn't use a false name--not when traveling to find his sister. It'd been long enough that no one on Lawley would recall an escaped serf. "I'm Conn Farraday, servant traveling on m'way to the garrison. And you are?"

"Hallo!"

Collier jumped and whirled to see the man stepping out from the trees. He didn't look terribly dangerous. He looked like a traveler as much as they were. This man seemed friendly; he waved and didn't brandish a weapon of any kind.

"I'm Conn Farraday, servant traveling on m'way to the garrison. And you are?"

And he was incredibly forthright. Collier smiled at him and gave a welcoming nod of his head. "Collier Falk, traveling minstrel, at your service." He chuckled. "We're on our way to one of the garrisons too. Or I think we are." He cast his eyes to the sky for a moment. "We wound up a little lost, it seems. Didn't even realize we were at the border."

He heard some branches cracking to his right and turned his head to look. The bushes rattled and shook, and Fen finally loped halfway out. He stared at the new person and gave a halfhearted bark of warning. Collier waved his hand at the dog. "That's Fen, he's with us, so don't be afraid of him. He's not really dangerous, big as he is."

"A minstrel!" Conn was vaguely impressed. It took gall to make your money at such an uncertain job. Gall, but not necessarily skill. Not that you'd ever needed skill at anything to get by in life. What you needed was luck and life force. No good dying halfway through things.

"You're just too far to the west. We're not far from the place where the river turns; there's a garrison not far from there. I'd say it's two good days' journey, though." Conn shrugged, then whistled for Freedom. No need to hide his horse from these folk. The boy was well-fed enough and the man looked too old to do any harm, anyway.

"I'm Conn," he repeated anyway, waving to the older man casually. When Freedom approached, he slung an arm around her neck and gave her a resounding pat before he took off his sack of victuals. "I shot a pheasant earlier," he added, taking the bird down from across his saddle. "Do you folks need something to eat? I'm used to cooking on the road, and all I gotta do is pluck and gut the thing."

The dog was snuffling at his caught bird, so Conn held it up out of his way and bend to give him a vigorous rub behind the ears instead. "Fen, huh?" His fingers never ceased their movement, finding itchy places on the dog's skin. "You take good care of him." He kept his voice in the soothing lower registers dogs preferred; some idiots cooed at animals, but Conn just used a gentler version of his normal, slightly growling tones. He liked animals. They were honester than people.

"A minstrel!"

Collier blinked slightly at the man's reaction. It wasn't bad. He actually sounded impressed or surprised. Collier grinned widely and bowed from the waist with a flourish. "Indeed! If you ever need entertaining, I hope you'll come to us."

"You're just too far to the west. We're not far from the place where the river turns; there's a garrison not far from there. I'd say it's two good days' journey, though."

"Oh," said Collier. They'd already been traveling for a couple of days. Or, as it turned out, wandering. They'd traveled for much longer stretches before, even during their stay in Thiasa, but their rations were running a little low. Collier would have to pull out his bow and hope his aim was still good enough to catch meals.

He glanced up in surprise when the man whistled and a horse approached. Was it his? Why had he kept it away? Collier tilted his head a little but smiled anyway. Horses were beautiful animals. He wished he and Aksel could get one, but they would be lucky to get a second-rate pack mule with their coin.

"I'm Conn. I shot a pheasant earlier," he added. "Do you folks need something to eat? I'm used to cooking on the road, and all I gotta do is pluck and gut the thing."

The boy's eyes went straight to the dead bird. They'd eaten the rabbit already, but it wasn't particularly filling. But the man had killed the bird himself, it wouldn't be right to ask for a share. Then again, the man was offering. If nothing else Collier could offer the services of their already made fire.

"I'm Collier," he said with a smile. "If you'd like to use our fire to cook the bird you're more than welcome. Just keep it away from Fen." He sent a look at the dog and waved his hand to keep the animal from getting too close to Conn. The dog ignored him and instead calmly accepted Conn's scratching.

"Fen, huh? You take good care of him."

"Thank you," Collier replied. "I was worried the climate here would be too warm for him when we first arrived, but he seems to be doing all right." He reached down and pulled some burrs and leaves from Fen's thick coat. At least he didn't smell from the river anymore. He chuckled. "We feed him, at least."

"This will do quite nicely, don't you think Raiden? It's been so long since I have been back in Thiasa to check my holdings. I really should not let myself be away for so long in the future," Abbas said as he lit his pipe as he and Raiden walked along the countryside away from their camp. Abbas had insisted on walking a bit as he had been on a boat for what seemed like an eternity. His brother was handling things as best he could from Arabia, but Abbas had grown restless and had decided to revive the old merchant that he had let slip by the wayside. Besides, it's hard to steal when you're in the middle of a den of thieves.

"I really wish you would have let me scout ahead. There are plenty of things along this river that would love to see you dead," Raiden said as he kept a watchful eye on everything around the two. Abbas simply smiled as they continued their walk. Abbas, though quite observant himself, felt very little need to watch his back as long as Raiden was there. Raiden was still the only man he had ever trusted, and would most likely remain such for the rest of his life. Besides, Raiden was paranoid enough for the both of them.

"I did, remember, when you went hunting just now," Abbas said with a sarcastic grin.

"I did not know you were intending to follow so closely behind me. I was only able to find a decent run of fish," Raiden gestured toward the fish hanging from the line that he had tied to his belt. "I can't stomach the rich foods you serve in camp. Simplicity has always worked best for me," Raiden said as they continued down the river path.

Suddenly, Raiden's hand fell to his sword and he gestured for Abbas to stop. Abbas listened carefully to the noise that had obviously drawn Raiden's attention. It was light conversation, a mere child and a man. Abbas smiled.

"Are you afraid of a child, Raiden?" And Abbas headed toward the clearing in which the noise was coming from. Abbas looked at Raiden, who was still resting his hand on his sword and simply shook his head. "Don't worry so much, this river naturally brings many travellers to it. We might end up making a friend or two."

Raiden released his sword and followed his master, cautiously.

As Abbas came closer to the camp, he pulled out his goatee and placed it on his face with expert proficiency. He had put it on so much in his life he didn't even need a mirror to know if it was on right. Though it would be highly unlikely that anyone would recognize him, as either Gregor Tibus or Abbas Tufayl, it would be best to keep with the consistency.

When the camp came within view, Abbas smiled and yelled towards the camp. "Hallo there, is that a friendly fire?" Abbas said as he approached. Abbas looked at the young man with his dog and gave a simple nod. "Gregor Tibus, my companion and I saw your fire and thought we might see if it was friendly. We'd be willing to share, of course. Raiden has a habit of catching more than he and I can eat," he said as he gestured toward Raiden who seemed to be overlooking the scene.

Raiden's eyes did linger on the man in the camp. A look that mixed both acknowledgment and concern at the same time. Raiden knew a killer when he saw one.