Squib Ep.34 - Sanctuary
(Start at the beginning here)
“Th- they’re gone.” Bandana stammered, sagged, and buckled in a pained wheeze with the brace of a tree to hold her up. Squib came to a stop, breathing heavy but free of whatever labor his companion was facing. He checked over his shoulder, scanned the line of trees through the haze, listened with his green tipped ears, and sniffed for the foul odor of the undead. Somehow they’d lost them, or perhaps moved beyond their lines. Whatever the case they were suddenly in the clear, free of the menace and not a moment too soon judging by the look of Bandana.
Squib didn't know what to make of it, at least not before he had a moment to look around. He ran his eyes over the surrounding foliage while Bandana fell to her knees and begun drinking from her waterskin. The rain fell lightly, the thick canopy of broad and more tightly packed trees further reducing the fall to a mere spattering. The sound of crickets, critters, birds and other creatures were present on the edge of hearing. There was a thick presence of nature, a richness to the soul, a residing sense of freedom clear of the foulest rot the swamp had to offer. Certainly there was no sense of walking death about the place, nor a whiff of the decomposition that usually lay at the bottom of the swamps murky pools. “We’re here.” He announced, looking toward Bandana. Her eyes met Squib’s from around her waterskin, her brow raising half an inch as a beat passed to swallow.
“Thank the gods, I don’t think I can run another step.” Bandana sat, deepening her rest.
Squib moved to join her. “Mustn't linger, she will be expecting us.”
“She?” Bandana asked.
“The Ancient One, the Dryad, the being we seek.” Squib drew water himself, rummaged in a pouch, pulled a morsel of leftover cooked lizard and shredded it with his teeth.
“What about Herule? He may still be following.”
Squib turned to look back the way they’d come. Instinctively his hand reached for the pouch of purple powder previously in the Lizardman's possession, his fingers dancing lightly where he found it. It felt good to have it returned, reassuring given everything, particularly being so close to his goal. While he wished to have witnessed the moment of Herule’s realisation, the deception proving all to sweet, he would not regret avoiding the Lizardman’s wrath. Still, thinking it through he couldn't help but frown down the empty path they’d come. He didn't know what sort of beast had risen up to claim their scaly companion, hadn't seen the event himself, but from what Bandana had described, Squib didn't bare much hope. That left a sour taste in his mouth that had him grinding his teeth. “Stupid dumb lizardfool, always looking for fights, not able to follow simple instruction. His own fault, nothing to do about it.”
“We can wait, for a little while at least.”
“No, can’t afford to,” Squib smelled the air, the senses beyond his nose telling him something was deeply wrong. The swamp had changed somehow and here at the heart of its life the sensation sent a chill down his spine. What that meant he did not know but he feared his opportunity to learn from the Dryad was slipping away. “Not safe, swamp infected, rotters will come.” All true but certainly not his real motivation.
“I need to rest, Squib” Bandana’s weight shifted and she fell onto her ass, “my ribs are burning, every step is agony, I doubt I can get back up if I wanted to.” She fell back into the squelching embrace of the saturated earth, laying still except for the drawing of labored breaths.
Squib watched the light rain pelt her, felt his temper rise along with his frustration, he let out a horrible, rasping screech, then sat down angrily beside her. He’d made a deal with the old Hag and he had every intention of keeping it, least she find out and place a curse on him. That didn't mean he had to like it.
Long silent moments followed as Bandana slipped into a pensive rest. Squib kept vigil for a long while but dozed into a slumber before she could wake. Time slipped into the stream of lazy consciousness and it wasn't until a thought occurred, that the rain had stopped, that Squib jerked awake. His eyes darted about his surroundings, the mood suddenly different from what he remembered. All was quiet except for the odd droplet pooling and sliding its way off the nearby trees to the earth. Every branch and piece of foliage seemed to loom, and a closeness pressed in from all sides. Everywhere Squib looked he felt watched and yet everywhere he sought personage no eyes were there to be found. He reached for Bandana’s leg and gave it a shake, she stirred and gasped a breath.
“What is it?” She said in a hushed tone.
Squib looked her square in the eye. “We’re not alone,” he whispered back. “The Dryade has come, her court is upon us.”
“Where?” Bandana looked around from up on her elbows, finding no one.
Shadow cast suddenly over her and Squib’s neck craned up, up, up. From the tree behind Bandana a creature emerged. Feminine was it’s form, cast from oak, seemingly polished with veins and rings that normally denoted the age of trees. It glade forth from the heart of the willow, as though the two were one, and yet separate, lumber peeling from lumber as it emerged. It craned over Bandana as she looked up to meet its upside down gaze, greeting them with wild eyes and a laugh like the creaking of long heavy branches.
(Continue to Ep.35)
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