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The Heartwood
The Arch Bridge
Attaday, the Eighth Day of Yrick

Bekkah, Hard-To-Surprise and the Forest Folk rear guard

Bekkah watched as the others took to their boats. This deep into the woods, even with the clear sky above the open lake, darkness fell very fast. If not for the single small moon in the sky it would have been pitch black, unable to see even one’s hand before their face.

Very quickly, however, they disappeared into the darkness. First the sound of their passage became unheard. The Forest Folk must have used the lake before and were skilled in moving the boats with little noise.

But then again, each group had some Rats with them, which could explain things.

His path, with his little group, lead down stone bridge, headed northwards towards the keep gate proper. All went well until they got about halfway across. Passing over the paved roadway there was an audible click, like a lever being thrown. A moment later aloud and long bawooom echoed across the waters, like a warning horn, a call to alarm and arms. It tolled a single note and then all was quiet again.

On the other hand they were supposed to be the diversion. It was not like they were attempting to be quiet.

Clever just shrugged his shoulders.

“We’ve never gone straight up over the bridge before.”

It was quiet again. And then it was too quiet.

Which of course was a bad sign.

It was broken by one of the Forest Folk speaking up. It was Hard-To-Surprise. He was walking but a few paces behind Bekkah, being the last in their march. He was the rear guard of the rear guard.

“We are not allll …”

The buck turned, looking towards the dam, back along the way they had come, and that was when the world was turned to chaos.

The first thing that happened was hard-To-Surprise moved, but it was an unnatural movement, dragged to the side and slammed against the bridge’s stone parapet edge. It was involuntary, of course, as if a black shadow had snared him waist high, to toss him like some ruff or slink might play with their prey.

Before Hard-To-Surprise was halfway through his flight the grinding was heard. It was loud as thunder, sudden and sharp as the bridge deck betrayed them. No, it did not fall, it rose, pivoting like a fort’s drawbridge, slamming upwards in a single swift motion. It was perfectly planned, not only splitting the group in two but dividing them with a long space of open water. One end, to the south, was simply the termination of the bridge. The north side had the added benefit of the equally long section of bridge now rising as a barricade.

Those who had been drawbridge section were tossed. Some into the lake, some further ahead.

On one hand, Bekkah no longer had to worry for the dangers ahead. Her problem was behind her, as that shadow took form.

On the other hand, her protector, Squire Pietro was on the other side of the gap and drawbridge wall. This left her with only a handful of companions, mostly Rats and a pair of Mice, all alone.

The clouds parted and Bekkah’s portion of the bridge was washed with silver light.

It was a beast was that was tossing Hard-To-Surprise back and forth like a child’s doll. It was the size of a small horse in mass and volume but low to the ground. Black as night it was like a merebeast that had grown far too large. It was definitely weasel-like, but different, like a mere beast with too many legs, a long snout and a narrow muzzle with jaws wide enough to swallow a strong man’s leg or toss a buck back and forth.

One of the rats stepped forward.

Suddenly both were tossed high in the air, Weasel and Buck. A second Rat moved and Buck and Weasel were pulled in two different directions. The Weasel, turning and bucking through the air was slammed into the lake, hitting the water’s surface hard. From that height, at that speed, it would have been like slamming into a stone wall.

Hard-To-Surprise was brought down before Bekkah. The Forest Kin was still breathing but he was bleeding bad – a major gash torn out of his side plus broken bones from where he had been smashed about.

The Rats shifted back and forth, scared, looking into the darkness the way they had come.

“What shall we do Kind Lady?

“Weasels never hunt alone.”

Bekkah

She looked on in surprise at what happened. It all seemed to happen in a blink. Reflexively, she bent to lay her hand on the badly hurt Hard-to-Surprise and a white glow moved from her hand to his body as she eased some of his pain.

[ooc: I never know how much strength would be needed to heal what. Would this use up her biggest healing spell to fix broken bones?]

"Stay behind me." she said to the rats around her.

She then stood tall and looked out where other weasels might be. Her white robes stood out in the sunlight and her blond hair flew in the breeze.

She spoke in a commanding tone, nothing like the soft spoken woman they've heard before. Dazi would probably be shaking her head in disbelief right about now, but if nothing else, Bekkah was firm in her beliefs.

"My Lady has granted you that which you've never had. And this is how you repay her? We are not your enemy. We are here to help you. Look around you. How have these dwarves treated you? What kind of life have you known? Do you often run through the forest with your kin? What life do you have here? You have a chance to live like you were meant to live. Take that life now. You are nobody's tool any longer."

[ooc: If she's going to die, might as well go out standing up for what you believe in ]

The Heartwood
The Arch Bridge
Attaday, the Eighth Day of Yrick

Bekkah, Hard-To-Surprise and the Forest Folk rear guard

It did not take very much of her power to staunch the Deer’s wounds. True, it was not a complete healing, but enough to keep Krysta banished and give him enough strength to move. That he did and slowly pushed himself up.

“ … danks.”

When Lady Bekkah strode forward it was actually in a pool of moonlight where she made her stand. Sunrise was the entire night away. So it was in silver, not yellow she stood. Her companions followed her lead, as from the darkness another of those dangerous creatures stepped forward. Its head was low to the ground and it was treading low and careful.

It was not walking or running.

It was stalking.

However, the beast stopped and blinked when Bekkah spoke up, when she made her challenge. It stood there silently, shifting its balance from one paw to another, for the moment completely confused.

Its head moved back just the littlest bit.

Its head tilted.

Its prey wasn’t doing what it was supposed to.

The weasel made a motion with its whiskered nose. As if indicating that Bekkah should behave properly and, like, run. You can’t chase down your prey if it isn’t running.

“Uhm …

“Lady Bekkah …

“This ain’t gonna last for very long.

“Weasels are just critters.

“They aren’t smart like us.”

Bekkah

"Well that's no good." she said still standing her ground.

"Can you keep them away from us without killing them? We have nowhere to go really so we can wait here for a while if they were just discouraged from trying to harm us."

Clearly Bekkah was no fighter. She knew nothing tactics and battles. She was simply used to watching others do what they did and she helped where she could. She'd certainly never been asked for her opinion in battle.

The Heartwood
The Arch Bridge
Attaday, the Eighth Day of Yrick

Bekkah, Hard-To-Surprise and the Forest Folk rear guard

“Yes Ma’am.”

And the weasel was gone.

Well not exactly. The rat next to her held out his hand, like he was holding an invisible apple. Then he twisted his hand and his whiskers twitched. The weasel found itself airborne, now yowling and screaming instead of growling. The twisting mass of fur, claws and teeth made an arcing flight off the bridge and above the lake until it ended in a loud splash.

A second form charged and a second little Rat stepped forward.

“Is that what you meant, Ma’am Yurisdotter?”

Bekkah

She was amazed by their skill.

"Yes, that is perfect. Thank you. I'd prefer to see no blood shed this day if possible. Especially not in a quest that is being attributed to my Lady."

The Heartwood
The Arch Bridge
Attaday, the Eighth Day of Yrick

Bekkah, Hard-To-Surprise and the Forest Folk rear guard

Hard-To-Surprsie slowly sat himself back up. He watched curiously as the Rats, one by one by one tossed the approaching Weasels off the bridge. He nodded to Bekkah.

“Thank you Kind Lady.”

A few moments later he blinked, thrice, before again speaking to the Lady Yurisdotter.

“That Weasel was wet.”

Indeed that was the case for the next weasel and the next and the next. There were obviously now dealing with the same four Weasels over and over again. They may not be very smart, but they were did seem determined.

“Ut oh …”

Hard-To-Surprise made an additional observation.

“That one was white.”

Somewhere they were getting more Weasels.

Bekkah

"I think you're right."

"Can you folks keep this up for long? If nothing else, they're not bothering anybody else. If not, then we need to come up with a different plan and in all honesty, I really don't have one. It's awfully rare that some thing is trying to harm me. I don't spend much time finding ways to make them stop. Usually someone does it for me." she admitted.

The Heartwood
The Arch Bridge
Attaday, the Eighth Day of Yrick

Bekkah, Hard-To-Surprise and the Forest Folk rear guard

The problem with the Dwarf trap was that it had done an excellent job of separating the Priestess from the Squire. First there was the gap; perhaps almost a two fullhands of water now separated the two groups. Second was the fact that the stone had flipped up like a drawbridge, away from Bekkah, with the mass of stone a barrier between the two. If sound reflected off of it, that sound would have been keep-bound; echoing off the keep, at this distance, any sound would end up just being noise.

This made it impossible for Bekkah to hear what was going on with Pietro’s group, save the clatter of combat.

One of the rats would twitch his whiskers, looking back over his shoulders to Bekkah.

“Well ma’am, it’s all a matter of who starts to get tired first.”

On one hand, what Bekkah said was true. She wasn’t used to folks trying to hurt her. On the other hand, the Weasels weren’t folk, they were just very annoying critters. Not that hurting them wouldn’t be cruel and far from lady like, but it would be more akin to whapping away a merebeast than one of the Pack.

And it is not like they are specifically going after her.

It could be just like she had been told earlier. Maybe the weasels really do have an extreme dislike for the Forest Folk.

Bekkah

She sighed.

*Foolish creatures* she muttered to herself.

"Forgive us my lady, but we cannot stay here for long. I fear our friends will be in need of your touch."

"Perhaps if you can deter one permanently, the others will get the message." she said reluctantly.

"I dearly wish to know how the other's fare. Clearly this was a trap meant to separate us so the sooner we get back to them, the better."

The Heartwood
The Arch Bridge
Attaday, the Eighth Day of Yrick

Bekkah, Hard-To-Surprise and the Forest Folk rear guard

Beside her, there was a soft whumf. Bekkah had forgotten. She had Mice; or rather she had Mice. What was once a pair of Mice were now only a single one.

As for her other request, one of the Rats nodded. This time instead of being tossed into the lake the weasel was thrown straight up into the air, so high up into the darkness it could no longer be seen. A span of heartbeats later, right in front of an upcoming weasel, that one came back down.

It came back down without benefit of Rat, trapped by the laws of nature, hitting the stone roadway with tremendous force, shattering all its bones and creating a sudden pool of blood.

It took three Weasels to teach the others that coming any closer was not in their best interest. Behind the three corpses their companions milled, the stalked, they occasionally hiss-growled.

But they did not pass the small pile of dead Weasels..

“My Lady …”

With a second pop the vanished Mouse just as immediately returned – not there becoming there in an instance.

“They got the Old Masters and the Oldest Master. They have run out of Weasels. But your Squire has fallen and the Deer and Rats are backed against the wall of stone.

“The Oldest Master is standing above him and he is asking him about you.

“He says he’s a Prince says he’s going to marry you.”

The little Mouse’s head tilted.

“What’s a Prince and what’s getting marry-ed?”

Bekkah

She listened to the report, her eyes going wide.

"The squire is down? Pietro?"

"I don't suppose you have the ability to get me to his side do you?"

Then the rest of what he said registered.

"Marry me? That's silly." she said dismissively, assuming the mouse had misunderstood what he'd heard.

"It means to make someone their mate. And a prince is like a spoiled King." she said getting annoyed that someone might think she'd marry them just because they said so.

The Heartwood
The Arch Bridge
Attaday, the Eighth Day of Yrick

Bekkah, Hard-To-Surprise and the Forest Folk rear guard

“Yes ma’am.”

It was a simple answer, from her Faithful Rat. The result, however, was not so simple but should have been expected. Like being wrapped up in an invisible fist, Lady Bekkah felt her feet lift from the stone bridge, her tunics and surcoat fluttering in the wind as she was lofted high into the night sky.

For a moment she completely understood how the Weasels must have felt.

Happily she was neither tossed into the water nor thrown very, very, very high and then dropped. Instead she found herself placed, placed upon the high top of the stone drawbridge. It made sense. Rats could not move anything – or anyone – to a spot they could not see and this was the closest they could get her. From here she could look down, and down into a sight that was not a good one.

The Forest Folk had been driven back against the bottom of the Portcullis; they were facing strange looking barrel-like men in black armor. They seemed difficult to root out or for the Rats to throw, as if standing on the stone bridge gave them added strength. Pietro’s Rats were trying to slow them down and that seemed to be working, but it was only a temporary respite.

There were no Weasels, but then she knew what had happened to their Weasels.

Beyond the line of Dwarves was Pietro, or who she presumed to be Pietro. There were three incredibly old looking men, all garbed the Red and Gold of Lord Rames. They had one similarly dressed pinned to the ground; that one seemed younger and was probably Pietro.

And looking down upon him was a Knight. If he was a Knight, and his proud and arrogant bearing would seem to infer a high Imperial rank, that meant those holding to the stone roadway Pietro were his Squires. His face was gaunt and at one time may have been handsome. Now he looked as if it was carven from stone, older than time itself, with a strange sheen. Like he had been dipped in lacquer.

In return, how could he not recognize the cream and whites of Lady Attera.

“My Word. Lord Rames does Provide.”

That was Pietro’s second problem. Squires were not supposed to be rescued by a girl.

Pietro


"Run, my Lady of Attera," Pietro gasped out, thinking of what Lord Faast had promised or prophesied would be done. He could not imagine allowing her to be the bride of this evil knight.

He'd rather die.

Also, he would be mortified to be rescued by a lady, but that - although important enough - was the lesser of the two desperate problems facing him.

"Save yourself! Do not worry for me."

Bekkah

It was an unusual feeling to be carried upon the air. Not unpleasant, just unusual. When she was set atop the bridge structure, she looked down on the situation.

She did not consider Pietro's plea. To let him be killed or some such fate to save his dignity was just silly. After all she was a priestess, not some novitiate that needed protecting.

"Unhand him this instant. What knight of Lord Rames would attack a squire of his lord?"

"And what is this foolish talk of marriage?"

The Heartwood
The Arch Bridge
Attaday, the Eighth Day of Yrick

Bekkah and Pietro and Clever Rat, a Den of Dwarves, Several Squires, a Few Forest Folk and a Proud Prince of the Bankorpool Empire

It doesn’t seem like any ne at all was listening to Pietro. Not the Squires who were holding him down, not Prince Faast – who actually seems to have forgotten him – and most certainly not Lady Bekkah, who stood upon the stone barrier, looking down upon them all. Besides it was most nonsensical. From there how could she run? It was either a long drop to the stone roadway below, an action certainly detrimental to one’s well being or a slightly longer drop off the other side into the lake below.

Which would be very wet. And it would probably also be cold.

“Foolish talk? How so like a woman! When your Prince speaks of marriage it is anything but foolish. It is an honor, it is fate, it is why you have been brought before me!”

“Oh, but I am besides myself.”

The tall ancient man held up his hand.

“Hold. There is a Lady present.”

Those words caused a pause in the Dwarves’ forward assault. But it did not lift the weight from Pietro’s back.

“Let me properly introduce myself. I am His Royal Highness, Lord Prince Faast Bankorpool, heir to the Empire, Viceroy to These Imperial Colonies, Protector of the Law, High Knight Marshall of the Star, Crown and Bear and who shall be your Husband, by Imperial will and decree.”

He did not seem to be the kind of man who was used to be being disagreed with.

Then he blinked, paused and looked down.

“What knight of Lord Rames would attack a squire of his lord? I am afraid I don’t understand.”

He passed and then looked back up.

“Oh you mean him. Nay, My Lady, you have it reversed; it is he who attacked his Lord – not just as an Imperial Prince but his superior in the Church of Lord Rames the Protector.”

The problem, of course, was that by the Law of things the Prince could very well be correct.

“He has proven to be a misbehaved miscreant and a thief. As soon as I am finished collecting my property and disciplining him we, of course, shall converse; we certainly have important arrangements to make. Halls to decorate, writs for the Judges to commit to parchment and so on and so forth.”

Bekkah

"Since you have properly introduced yourself, I will do the same. I am Bekkah Yurisdotter, Priestess of my Lady Attera. And I do not simply do as another wishes, save my Lady. And I certainly do not marry a man, regardless of the honor it would bring me, simply because he has decided we should be wed."

"I have much work to do and you stand in our way. My Goddess has made it clear that this is my mission and I do not forsake my duties to my Lady. Have you not felt her power recently, even in this place?"

"As far as the squire your men hold, he is my protector and when we were separated he was only doing what he could to come to my side. I suspect you would not let him pass so that he could do his duty."

"I would like to know what a Lord Prince is doing in these environs, were you attempting to stop these affronts to what is right or were you complicit in their doing?"

Pietro


He was willing to allow Bekkah to lead in this discussion, but his avocation would not allow him to accept a female as his protector - or worse - savior and he continued to struggle to remove the weight from his back.

An idea occurred to him.

"Now that these beings are complete... replete with personal souls provided through the power of the Lady Attera, they can no longer be considered property and, therefore, cannot be stolen, Lord Faast. Perhaps you could hire them to work for you... treat them decently and provide them with salaries for the work they perform."

"That could prevent a potential conflict between Lord Rames and Lady Attera."

The Heartwood
The Arch Bridge
Attaday, the Eighth Day of Yrick

Bekkah and Pietro and Clever Rat, a Den of Dwarves, Several Squires, a Few Forest Folk and a Proud Prince of the Bankorpool Empire

“You know what.”

The Prince looked up to Lady Bekkah Yurisdotter, Priestess of my Lady Attera. His gaze was sharp as steel.

“You have spunk.”
He paused a moment, crossing his arms as he looked up to the contrary Lady, high atop the stone drawbridge.

“I hate spunk.”

The Prince let out a long, long exasperated breath.

“It’s going to be one of these conversations. Do you see, My Squires, this is why we left them at the Port. Now, most Ladies are fine and they remember their place, but every now and then one of them forgets duty and tradition and these rare exceptions become contrary and uppity and proof enough of the old adage that children and women should be seen and not heard. Why it usually happens once they have attained their vestments is a mystery, but it is a known sigil of trouble ahead.

“Remember your teachings; the written word for conflict derives from characters also meaning two ladies in the same castle and that the word for frustration derives from a cathedral full of them.”

His fingers drummed on his black vambraces.

“So of course, the first Priestess who visits us in so may hundreds of years had to be one of these. Our Lord tests us, lads. Our Lord always tests us.”

The Imperial then raised one hand a waved it, as if banishing some foul odor on the air.

“First …”

He returned his gaze to Bekkah.

“First, this young Squire was, obviously, in front of you, not behind you, which makes it very difficult to think that he was trying to meet you. Otherwise he would have just turned around and not come traipsing up our Bridge.

“And what do we do in this place? This is where we live, and work to bring and maintain order in a Forest steeped in the blood of the Age of Witches. It is a right and fitting task for the Empire.

“As for your purpose, of course we have no knowledge of what it might be, though one might better suspect that whatever task upon you were set was but a happenstance, a distraction, an excuse for a far greater purpose, to bring You to Me.

“That would be a proper, orderly interpretation of our meeting.”

Faast Bankorpool then looked down.

“You. Be quiet. Adults are speaking. Each word you speak reinforces your lack of knowledge or understanding. Whether or not something happened matters not in this case; it neither changes their status as property nor that they are my property and you are not of status or rank to lecture me on how I treat my property. As for conflicts between our Church and The Lady's, there are none when things are in their proper order. Sometimes they need reminding.”

He then returned his attention to Lady Yurisdotter.

“Perhaps if I was but a lowly Knight in the Cathedral ranks your words might have weight, especially being a priestess and have certain rank.

“Except I am the Prince of the Bankorpool Empire.

“And my words are Law.”

He smiled.

“I can even have the Brothers of Hastur to write them down for me.”

Bekkah

She was clearly speaking to a madman. Logic wasn't going to get her anywhere. About the only thing she was certain of was that he would not harm her. Of course, Bekkah Yurisdotter never believed anyone or anything would try and hurt her despite some recent examples to the contrary. But she did believe that if she kept him talking to her, then he wasn't harming Pietro and he wasn't hunting any of her friends of the forest folk so that was a plus. So for now, she'd continue to speak to him, regardless of whether she thought there was any chance of getting through his madness.

"Spunk? Perhaps if that is what you call it when a woman speaks her mind in what she believes in. When she sees right from wrong and acts on it. Then yes, I suppose I do have spunk."

"I suppose, you'd prefer a woman who only speaks when you wish it, who simply knows your desires and provides for you at your will? Don't bother answering that for I already know the answer. And I think you would be terribly disappointed with me. I go where my whims take me, usually towards those who need my Lady's healing grace the most. I am not one to go to the richest or most powerful. So on both counts, you do not interest me. And whether you have the wisdom or not to see it, I would not interest you."

"My errand comes directly from my Goddess and I can assure you, it has nothing to do with marrying you. That is not going to happen. You may capture me and lock me behind walls within your home, but you will never hear me willingly agree to a marriage."

The Heartwood
The Arch Bridge
Attaday, the Eighth Day of Yrick

Bekkah and Pietro and Clever Rat, a Den of Dwarves, Several Squires, a Few Forest Folk and a Proud Prince of the Bankorpool Empire

“Capture you?”

The Prince stood taller, more proud and assured of himself.

“You wound me, Lady Yurisdotter. I would never capture you, at the least not in the manner one might of a poorly educated Squire who back speaks both his betters and his liege.”

One of the Squires leaned down to whisper to Pietro.

“Aye, he is talking about you.”

The Prince, however, has his attention focused only upon the Lady. Indeed his companion dwarves, as they looked between the Imperial Nobleman, the Imperial Priestess and their property were starting to fidgit. It was hard to tell if they were getting impatient, frustrated or exasperated. It was something Lady Bekkah could not have noticed, as she was locked in her own combat. Not one of swords, but a very definite verbal sparring.

“I would take you down from such a precarious spot and bring you to a place much finer and safer than this dread Forest, to treat you in the manner an Imperial lady should. If I were to capture you it would never be by force of arms, but through conversation, wit, and fair …”

The Prince paused.

“Oh my Lady! I do understand. Of course you have my apologies and my only excuse that I may offer is one of unbridled …

“ … enthusiasm.

“Of course we cannot marry. How could we?

“There are the bans, the formal introductions, the wooing, the traditions of courtship! How could I have forgotten the proper matrimony? Perhaps it is your lovely visage that blinded me?

“Of course. It must be that.

“Come, come …

“Come down from there and we shall begin forthwith!”

Pietro


Aye, and he has a big mouth and a foul disposition... Pietro thought but knew enough at least not to voice his thoughts aloud.

But the squire was ashamed of himself. He had handled himself poorly and deserved whatever ignominious death as should be meted out by Prince Faast, regardless of the evil which the Lord of the Bankerpools represented in Pietro's opinion.

Even though he continued to struggle to get back erect and continue the fight he'd started, Pietro was starting to resign himself to his inevitable death.

He deserved no less.

Bekkah

She felt like this could go on forever. In fact, she was certain at least for his part, Lord Faast had already lived forever. But at least Pietro was still unharmed and the Lord and his squires were not going after her friends.

"Now, you speak as a gentleman and a true Knight of Lord Rames. I had started to wonder if perhaps you had been impersonating one of his Lord's men. A proper courtship would be necessary for how would I know what kind of man you are? For would I agree to marriage at first sight, then I'd fear that you would find me to be nothing more than a tavern wench, who dallies with a Prince for the chance to gain a few extra coin. And I assure you, I am not such a woman."

"As for proper introductions, my parents are no longer upon this world. My only family is my beloved sister. So I suppose it would be proper for you to meet her and make your intentions clear."

"But alas good sir. You have a much greater obstacle in your path. It is one that I believe, even a great prince such as yourself will not be able to overcome. For I am already deeply in love with another."

"For many years now, I have been in love with my Lady. Her will lives in me and I strive to do her bidding each and every day. I fear, I could not be taken away somewhere where there are no people, especially innocents to help."

"My heart is given and I do not know that even you will be able to win it back."

She assumed he'd just ignore her and press on. Still she made no move to descend from the broken bridge. Truth be told, she couldn't come down. Not without the help of the rats. It was in them, that she hoped to be rescued. She hoped they'd find a way to free Pietro and then they could be away from here.

The Heartwood
The Arch Bridge
Attaday, the Eighth Day of Yrick

Bekkah and Pietro and Clever Rat, a Den of Dwarves, Several Squires, a Few Forest Folk and a Proud Prince of the Bankorpool Empire

“Sahnay Kwedim … sahnay kwedim …”

Now that was an old tongue. It reminded Pietro of listening to Mass in High Imperial and Bekkah was pretty sure the Prince had just emphatically agreed with her.

“How could I expect anything less; it would be like myself forswearing my own Liege, my devotion to Lord Rames the Protector. Of course I would never come between you and your Lady just like you cannot come between me and my Lord.

“That would be foolish.”

The ancient Prince actually smiled. It was kind of creepy, but it still was a smile.

“A we both know, as It Is Above, So It Shall Be Below. Lady Attera is Lord Rames’ Consort and thus upon this mundane world our honor and duty to follow in their path, in their manner, as taught by both Our Churches.

“And you have a sister, how Wonderful. We shall of course invite her to our inevitable celebration. Though …”

The Knight let out a long sigh.

“The Forest may need additional taming to allow that. However, if that is the cost of your Hand, so be it.

“It shall be done!”

Bekkah

She sighed softly at his persistence, but kept the smile on her face.

"Oh, I suspect you won't have to do much taming, she's quite capable. As a Dayalan Knight, she's making quite a name for herself. I must say, I'm quite proud of her." she said wistfully, wondering how he'd take that news.

"Do you control all of the forest? It does appear a bit unruly. Have you not bothered with it or is this the way you like things?"

Still she remained up high out of his reach.