Some campsites along the Eriwyn-Windhaven road were more popular then others, and River's Rest was one such place. As the two walkers approached it, it soon became apparent that there was not one caravan but several, clustered in a circle about a roaring bonfire. Several small children, barefoot and skyclad even in the chill autumn weather, raced around the caravans, tossing an inflated zebu bladder to one another. A small cluster of zebu snorted and shuffled and a sleek silver, non-sentient canine rushed at them, howling in righteous fury at the invaders. Aeturnis cringed back, but it danced around Deryk, leaping and yelping until its owner called it back.
"Come on," he said, "there's naught to be afraid of."
As if in response to his words, a panpipe began playing - a merry, jaunty tune. Aeturnis shivered. She had never really been all that fond of crowds. Deryk put his hand on her arm, squeezing her in reassurance. She managed a small smile for him and together the two of them entered the campsite.
The campers looked up as they entered and even the piper stopped. The Aardwolf girl hugged her Memory Book tight and refused to look any of them in the eye.
Deryk, on the other paw, entered with bold strides and swept into a dramatic and exaggerated bow. "Greetings, fellow travellers," he declared, "I am Deryk de Almeeda, from the far-lands of Kalimere. The fair lady and I have travelled many miles afoot and would ask only that you permit us to lay our weary carcasses next to yours."
A jovial Beaver clad in rather fine looking attire chuckled. "This is a public place," he replied, "bed ya down. Ya got food?"
"We are a little … lacking in the food stakes," Deryk said, "but I assure you, I can certainly talk for my supper and you will not be sorry for the sharing."
"I can tell already." The Beaver stood up, wiping his large hands on his garish clothing and proffering a hand. "The name's Phillipe Trevani, fabrics merchant." He smiled at Aeturnis, who was crouching almost double in an effort to remain unnoticed. "And what do they call ya, lass?"
"Aeturnis," she replied, "Aeturnis Christie."
"Pleased to be meeting ya," he shoved his hand in her direction, and she took it instinctively.
"Thanks," she muttered, as he shook her hand, in a surprisingly gentle manner.
"So lass, why be ya travelling to Eriwyn?"
Aeturnis was not sure she really wanted to answer this question. If anything, her recent loss had made her more withdrawn and edgy. Deryk spared her the decision.
"We're on a mighty Quest, the fair lass and I," he declared. "And I shall tell you all about it, once my belly is filled and my feet at rest."
Those words appeared to have an effect - weary from travelling and the dry, dusty roads, new company received a warm welcome - especially when the new company was as theatrical as Deryk de Almeeda. Aeturnis was glad to just set down and rest her back against a handy tree. Her feet throbbed, her back ached and her legs were so stiff she felt she could barely move.
Deryk seemed to suffer none of these ailments common from walking long distances. He chatted amicably with the travellers, introducing himself to each and everyone and apparently remembering all their names. After a time the piper resumed his tune and the skyclad children curled up together beneath one of the wagons with the scruffy white dog. Sleep came upon Aeturnis too, a sleep borne on wings of weariness. It had almost snatched her away, when a hand tapped her on the shoulder.
She shrieked, sitting bolt upright and almost sent the bowl that Deryk was proferring to her, flying.
"Bit jumpy, aren't you?" He said. "I've managed to scavenge us up some vitals." She accepted it gratefully and he sat cross-legged beside her. "How are you doing?" He asked.
She shrugged but did not speak. The scent of the stew sent her salivary glands into overload. After a moment she managed a small smile for him.
"That's better," he grinned. "Now eat up, for soon I shall start my tale."
A short distance away, one of the (apparently) sleeping Kitlings, quirked an ear. It appeared that little ears would be listening.
The stew was good, extremely good. Deryk had done his best to prepare Interesting and Tasty meals for the two of them, but there was only so much one could do with insects and small birds. This had real meat, red meat, in it, big rich chunks of it. She ate it with enthusiasm as Deryk began his tale.
"'Twas a dark and stormy night the night I met the great God of all 'gators," he began, strutting before them. Everyone had ventured out of their caravans to see the strange and extroverted Meerkat prance before them. A jug of firewater passed from hand to hand. Deryk's voice proved rather soothing, and it had been a long, hard couple of days - Aeturnis felt herself slipping again. A tree was not the most comfortable place to fall asleep, but somehow she managed to dance on the verge of reality.
Deryk's voice came as if from a long, long way away, fading in and out.
"In my journeys I came across a tiny village called the Neverglades, populated by aquatic folk such as yourself, Phillipe and others such as Otters and even a Selkie or three. It was a peaceful, happy village." He paused, "except for one thing - they were haunted by a gigantic predator that would only come out at dawn and dusk and would snatch away whatever it could catch."
"It so came to pass that I arrived there just as the villagers were mourning the death of a young Selkie child. She had been taken on the riverbank two nights before. The aquatic folk place their dead to rest in the swamps, weighing the corpses down with rocks and sinking them into the Sacred glade. This was where things went badly wrong, as you may have guessed. The 'gator had grown fat feeding on those laid to rest in the Sacred glade and it had also grown lazy. There had been no deaths for some time and now it grew hungry.
"Little kitlings, with their dangling feet proved too great a temptation for the hungry beastie. And it swam along, under the water, crawling up to seize them within jaws like steel traps.
"SNAP, SNAP!" He pounced towards some of the younger folk that watched him with eyes wide. They cringed back, and then laughed at their own fear.
"Anyway, I said to myself 'why hasn't something been done about this menace?' And myself replied, 'because these are not warriors, these are a peaceful, cheerful folk and, well, they're just lucky that I - Deryk de Almeeda, have come along to save their tails.' And so I set about conceiving a plan so cunning you could put a tail on it, and call it a weasel."
He paused here, and Aeturnis felt herself drifting deeper. She was not particularly comfortable, leaning against the tree, but she was very tired, and Deryk's voice proved soothing.
She drifted out and into the clouds, but was drawn back down to reality all of a sudden.
"… Into the slippery, slimy swamp I sludged, armed with nothing more then my trusty blades and then I heard it moving towards me.
"Swish-swish-splash - it crawled through the murky waters. The air was thick and heavy with the buzz and whirr of insects, biting nasty things - fit to disturb even the most courageous of adventurers.
"But insects were not enough to deter me, for I had a mission and I had a task and nothing would drive me from my cause. So onwards I slogged whilst insects bit my neck and leeches gouged my legs.
"And then it came, erupting from the waters before me - so swift and stealthy I had not even heard it, or even seen it. Its mighty jaws were open and its teeth glittered in the moonlight. Each tooth was as long as my finger and terminated in a razor sharp point. With eyes as dark as pitch and as cold as the endless sea, it stared at me and I knew then that I had to react. The gator was the biggest monster I have ever seen, bigger even then the king of scrittlings. With a mighty 'splash' its tail slashed through the water and caught me about the legs. Down I fell, tumbling beneath the roiling, turgid waters. Water flooded up my nose and into my lungs and all breath was stolen from me. I thought it was truly the end, but then he snatched me up in his mighty jaws."
There was a gasp from the Kitlings under the wagon. No longer did they even make an effort to feign sleep, but instead lay on their bellies, staring at the spectacle, engrossed in the story. Even the non-sentient dog seemed to be listening.
"Now some of you may think this might mean the end of me. Obviously, you were wrong," he grinned, "for here I stand before you - a few scars for sure, but do not fear, for I assure you, I shall escape from this plot alive. Maybe not the next, however." He winked.
"So what happened?" One of the Kitlings shouted, then shoved his hand across his mouth, trying to push the words back in, lest his parents force him to go to bed. Luckily everyone was thoroughly enraptured by the tale at this point and noone paid him any heed.
"I had but one chance and I grabbed it by the horns and rode it. One of my scimitars had fallen from my grasp, but the other still dangled from my hand and thus as the mighty beast opened its jaws to devour me, I drove," and he mimed as he spoke, fighting an invisible fiend, "my blade deep into the back of its mouth."
"This, as you might agree, rather upset the great big thing. Now, its brain wasn't really very big, but my aim was true and I speared it straight into its inner cortex. Lizard blood dribbled all over me - but I was already soaked in swamp water and saliva so it was almost an improvement.
"It jerked its huge head and the great jaws dropped open, letting me tumble out. Then its entire body began twitching and writhing and flailing as it realised that I had rather nicely messed up its mind. Just as I reached the shore and was about to drag myself out, the tail caught me across the back again." He paused, for dramatic purposes, one of the Kitlings gasped. "I doubt somehow that the monster had enough brain left to chose such an attack, but more that its flailings had led to that unfortunate event.
"Back I tumbled, back into the broiling, frothing waters. I felt them close across my head, suffocating the life from me. Huge, wicked talons nicked me and the water ran red with my blood. I thought then I was lost, to drown so foolishly after destroying my opponent, but luck was on my side.
"My struggling brushed me into tangled, gnarled root and I seized my chance with both hands, dragging myself from the water at the end of my breath. For a while I lay across the tree trunk - black and slick with mould and other foetid substances, whilst beside me the gator ceased its struggles, and finally floated, belly up.
"The next morning the villagers fetched the carcass from the swamp and butchered it. For more then a week they lived off the flesh of the mighty beast, but I departed as soon as I was recovered from my ordeal. As tasty as gator-flesh is, there is only so much one can stomach.
"And that, ladies and gentlefurrs, kitlings and non-sentients, is the tale of how I destroyed the mighty gator. And I swear to you, it is the truest truth as I have ever told it."
He bowed in a much exaggerated fashion and, taking the jug of alcohol from the hands of his audience, downed a mighty mouthful. There was much laughter and applause.
"Thank you, thank you," he declared, bowing and waving the jug about. After a moment he collapsed beside Aeturnis, wiping one hand across his forehead. "Phew," he said, " story-telling really takes it out of me," and shoved the jug into her hands. She stared at it blankly.
"You're not supposed to look at it," he said, "'tis a beverage that should be sampled, not admired. Noone brews moonshine better then the travelling folk."
Aeturnis sniffed it gingerly, as though it would jump from the jug and force itself down her throat. It smelt of fruit, with a sharper undercurrent. Bringing it to her lips, she took the smallest sip.
It was sweet, almost like nectar, but it seared a trail of fiery pleasure down her throat. She gagged, startled but after a moment a peaceful haze seemed to settle on her stomach- as though it were warming inside. She took another, larger mouthful, swirling it around in her mouth. It was good. A pleasant warmth settled on her and she barely noticed when Deryk refilled her jug.