Fallen (Part 6)

How long am I goin ta have to do this?

She grimaced and opened the jar, trying to ignore the pungent odor. And failing. Again. Determinedly, she dipped two fingers into the buggering mess, scooped out a minimal portion, and smeared it distastefully over her left hand and arm. Once done, she wiped the remaining bit of goop off her fingers with a bit of faded cloth, and tossed it into the small fire. A small cloud of stench rose up. A short pause, then suddenly the forest was alive with the sounds of scuttling feet and flapping wings, as even the beasties hastily fled the foulness.

She wished she could be so lucky. With a sigh, she took started wrapping her arm in bandages. Once done, she tied it off and tested the tightness, clenching and unclenching her hand, then bending her wrist to and fro.

She still couldn’t tell. The druids, they said the infection had gotten no worse. But no better either. But it had only been a week’s time, after all. They couldn’t be sure if things would improve, with time. Or worsen. Only time would tell. They said.

~And of course, they mean what they say, don’t they? And say what they mean. But do they say all that know?~

She blinked, confused, her train of thought suddenly broken. After a bewildered moment, she turned back to the task at hand – kicking out the fire, gathering up her medicine kit, and packing her belongings safely away.

Hope, they told her. Prydion, and Alishe, and Lyirdanna too. Where there was life, and breath, there was still hope. Hope, and faith. She’d lost hers, somewhere along the dark road she’d taken. But they had not. So she’d borrow theirs, for a while. Store it up, bit by treasured bit, to fill the aching emptiness – the dark chasm within, where the warmth of the Light once filled her. Until, perhaps, she could find her own again.

~Aye, let yourself rely on their feeble hopes, their precious faith. But when you falter, when you slip, then they turn and walk away, it’ll all go tumbling down again. And then you’ll see how pointless it is. How empty you are.~

She rose to her feet, clutching her head at a moment of dizziness, and waited until it had passed. Then, adjusting the shield at her back and the blade at her hip, she turned to Ash – the gryphon waited stoically.

“Alright, birdbrain,” she told him gruffly. “Let’s go.”
___

It wasn’t a long flight to Shattrath. Ash landed lightly, then stood calmly, waiting for her to dismount. As always the dwarf was quietly amazed that a beast so large, so proud, could be so …

“BRANNY!” a voice shouted suddenly. She blinked, and found herself suddenly tackled and engulfed in a breath-stealing hug.

“Urk…” she managed, wincing as strong, armor-clad arms squeezed her own armor-clad form uncomfortably. The figure only took this as encouragement, and squeezed harder.

“It’s you! You’re back! Omigosh, it’s been so long!”

I know that voice… I know this GRIP! With effort, the dwarf struggled, forced air from her lungs. “… can’t… breath… ease up… girly…!”

The warrior loosened her grip slightly – the dwarf tried not to gasp too audibly for breath. “You sound funny, Branny. That IS you, right?”

She nodded weakly. “Aye, Cylinn. It’s me.” This earned her a renewed squeeze. “Gah… ease up, Cyl!”

“But you’ve been gone so LONG! Where have you been, anyway?”

She thought about it a moment. No use telling her, she won’t understand… “I guess… ye can say, been through th’ Nether, an’ come back again,” she said, finally.

Cylinn frowned just a bit, then brightened. “Oh wow, that’s sounds like it was far away! Was it a long trip?”

“Aye, ye can say that. Long indeed.”

“Did you bring me back any souvenirs?”

She blinked. Thought. Patted the pockets in her cloak. “Umm… I think I might have… what’s this…?” After a moment of searching, she produced a small, rather grotesque, imp-head-shaped… thing… on a small chain. Wordlessly, she handed it over.

“Ooooh, nifty!” Cylinn took it happily, then grabbed the gnome-box at her belt and shouted into it happily, “Branny just gave me an imp’s head on a chain! It’s cool!” There was an audible, collective groan in response to this exuberant announcement.

Despite herself, she grinned. Really, truly smiled. It felt odd, strange even, as if her face had all but forgotten how to smile so wide, so full of joy. But it felt good, as well.

Ash shifted his stance slightly – he’d prudently moved aside when the warrior had crashed into his rider, but still waited patiently. As Cyl continued to chatter excitedly about her new souvenir, the dwarf removed the halter from his beak, and gave him a friendly pat, releasing him to the skies until she needed him again. He nuzzled her briefly, then bounded into the air, leaving the groundlings to their own devices. For now.

Branny shielded her eyes from the sun, and watched him soar. Free.

Cylinn paused in her chattering and sniffed loudly. "Ew. What's that smell."

The dwarf ignored that.