Chapter 7: Forward Scouting Thread

And if whoever laid those traps are nearby, we mean no harm and they can share our fire.

"Yes, of course," Verrian says. "But they may not realize that we're friendly, just passing through, and not trying to steal their game." She shrugs. "People have good reason to be suspicious of strangers these days. We don't want to be caught off-guard if someone decides to make a pre-emptive strike in defense of their traps."

Swan nods. "How old did you say the traps were? Ah, doesn't matter, I know little of the habits of trapsetters."

"They're fresh," Verrian says. "And none of them had caught anything yet, and since I doubt anyone would set that many traps without being pretty sure they'd be catching something, I'm guessing that they were reset pretty recently."

As the conversation slows and dies down into the inevitable silences that these sorts of things reach, a girl's voice -- maybe a young woman's -- is heard from one of the trees nearby. The speaker sounds to be at least a good ten feet off the ground.

"You mean what you said? You mean no harm?"

There's clear distrust in her voice.

Verrian stands slowly, keeping her hands visible and away from her weapons. She smiles in the general direction of the voice.

"We mean it. We will consider anyone who approaches in friendship as a friend."

Wil keeps his hands clear of his weapons.

indeed, and friends are welcome to share our fire and food.

Swan remains lounged on his bedroll, inking notes for his epic. He chews a long willow twig by the end where he has peeled the bark off.

He looks up, expecting only the best.

A slim humanoid figure, the size of a young woman, climbs down from a tree a short ways from your campsite. As it approaches, you indeed notice much of the shape and sense of a young woman about her form, but her features are unusual. Her dark hair is long and matted, streaked with green, and the right half of her face and the skin of her fingertips appears made of pale grey wood bark. Her eyes appear human, bright green irises looking back at your group with obvious distrust. She is clothed in mismatched castoffs, a jacket that's too large for her and trousers that she's tightened with a scrap of rope around her waist. As she reaches the edge of the clearing where you have stopped, each step is cautious, ready to spring back at the slightest provocation.

"Lots of people say that," she says, and the wooden side of her face moves stiffly, though far more than you would expect from true wood. Her voice is quiet, pitched at the level of someone years younger than her height and build would suggest she is, and a little bit shaky. "Fewer still mean it."

She comes no closer, and you can tell she's leaning as though she's a half-step back into the forest already.

Verrian's smile doesn't waver as the girl's appearance becomes fully perceptible. "Well, we're among the few who mean it, then."

She gestures toward the campfire that they've just barely lit. "If you would like to join us, you are most welcome. No harm will come to you by our hands. We will consider you our friend." Putting a hand to her chest, she adds, "My name is Verrian. This is Wil, Uelten, and Zhaar."

Wil slowly stands and then bows.

Willitan Lightfoot at your service. You have my word that no harm will come to you.

Swan remains lounged, deeming it to be the least threatening posture he can maintain. "If our fire offends you, we can put it out. We mean no disrespect by it."

The young woman cocks her head slightly, her attention wavering just a moment as though she's listening to something, though all that can be heard is a faint breeze through the trees.

She gives her head a quick shake, eyes narrowing slightly and jaw clenching in a stubborn line.

Refocusing on the campsite, she says, "Fire... is a natural part of the forest. You didn't cut anything down. I watched you."

As soon as she says this, her lips press together again, and she growls briefly under her breath. "It is true..." she mutters, barely audible.

Verrian's eyebrows twitch slightly as she wonders what the girl is talking about, but she continues to offer a welcoming smile and gestures again at the area around the fire, where they have dragged some logs to act as seating. "Please do join us. And what is it that has surprised you so about us?"

Zhaar, conscious of his intimidating appearance, decides its best just to remain seated and waves while tending the fire.

"Who are you?" asks the young woman, staring through narrowed eyes at each. "Why are you here?"

"We're traveling, madame, to the town beyond." He waves his hand on the directing of where they are going. "We did not relish traveling at night, so presumed to camp for the night in this lovely wood."

Verrian says nothing but simply nods to affirm Swan's explanation.

The breeze picks up suddenly. The young woman winces briefly and clenches her jaw. She breathes slowly in and out several times, staring at a point in the middle distance.

"Be careful. The people there are..." she begins, looking at Swan as she speaks, her fleshy features softening into a concerned, pleading sort of look.

Her voice rises to carry farther than seems necessary, given that she's a mere ten feet away. "They're fine. They mean well."

She whispers something inaudible under her breath.

Verrian isn't sure what's going on with this young woman, but she seems to be talking to someone else besides her party. Verrian glances around looking for evidence of other people.