Moz the Magnificent 

"Thank you." Moz turns and starts sorting through the various herbs and dried ingredients for the appropriate ingredients. "Very nice, these will do perfectly."  Stuffing a bunch into his pouch. Heading over to the pot of stew he helps himself to sone. "Very good, compliments to the chef."  Finishing off his stew. Moz starts to gather up some furs and blankets for his bedding. Heading into one of the corners of the longhouse he pulls a  pair of large baskets over. Putting the furs down on the floor between the baskets, drapes the blaket across and over the baskets. Building a small blanket fort. Receiving some odd looks, he shrugs "I am shy."

"Thank you, Cousin, I can take care of these hands, but I'd appreciate if you could treat my shoulder. Can't quite reach comfortably and I'd probably miss some holes."
Angus scarfs down the stew as fast as his wounded hands will let him. Once his shoulder is treated, Angus stands, "I'll be back in a bit." He takes the medical supplies and a second bowl of stew around the back of the longhouse and sits a foot besides Rivyre.

"So... uh... anything alright? Is-is everything alright, rather..."

Rivyre hears Angus's voice..., but everything that has transpired..., the weight of destruction & violence that is to come on Skye, her homecoming filled w/ so much hate, distrust, & hostility, the threat of holy war caused by Sir Lorn, & finally a prospect that she may never know what happened to her family with the Vague that has completely enveloped Almorra. All the worries & negative emotion is too strong for her to overcome.

She can no longer hold herself up & falls into the fetal position, continues to cry, & shake uncontrollably almost as if she were having a seizure..., completely unable to answer Angus. Syletha is laying on top of Rivyre pawing & meowing in a panic..., trying to calm Rivyre, but to no avail.

Moz the Magnificent 

Finishing setting up his bedding for the night. Moz turns back to the others. Seeing Alorin seating and brooding he gives sigh. Crossing the room he spoons out another bowl of stew. Looking around he also helps him to two mugs of mead. Looking back at Alorin, exhausted and lost in thought. Moz watches him for moment, thinking to himself. 'Poor guy. He seems really broken up about everything. Probably confused and scared. He needs a soft caring touch. Not Me.'

Moz quickly walks over to where Valanthe and Sascha. Handing Valanthe the bowl of stew and mug of mead. "Here my dear. Take this over to him." Gesturing his head toward Alorin. "The boy is getting inside of his head. He needs a gentle touch, and don't noticed this about me but gentle is not specialty." Giving her wink and heading the second mug. Looking to Sascha "You look like you have a seen a thing or two, prehaps you have some advice for him?"

" I going to head outside for some air. Be gone for an hour or so, just up on the hill. If he asks just tell him am checking in with the dirty, two faced joker. He will know what's up." Rising his hand to ward off any questions " No questions, go and look after our boy." Looking to Sascha he gives her a bow "Milady' he turns and gets himself a mug of ale from Lorcan stores. He walks over to his bedding and grabs the pouch of herbs and incense and his pack. Heading over to the door of longhouse and steps outside into the crisp air looking up at the setting sun in the distances. 'Should be dark soon'

Valanthe sobs into Alorin’s shoulder as even the tiniest demonstration of kindness is enough to tip her over the edge “How are we supposed to stop a war if we can’t stop fighting each other? Why are people so dumb?” she sniffs and sobs. “And I said ******* - and I never say that.”

She stops where she is not yet at the longhouse. “I’m not going in there - not with that stupid druid - it is all his and Sir Lorn’s fault: the delirium, starting a war and now whatever he has made you do. That’s not fair, Alorin, you shouldn’t be having to make pacts with absent gods to atone for someone else’s sins.” 

She squeezes Alorin’s arm as a thank you and then looks at Moz “I’m starting to think you’re the dragon, Moz. Disguised as a gnome toying with the mortals for fun”.

And she heads into the forest and calls back “I’m going to climb a tree. You can see things are better when you’re up a tree.”

-------

As the sun begins to disappear below the treeline, Valanthe climbs down from the tall pine she had sat in for the last hour: the crisp, pine-scented air, and the smells of the forest reminded her of her childhood home and she smiled at memories of climbing trees with her father. Elves have a different relationship with trees than most. With similar lifespans, trees are more like friends than elders or guardians and elves become the custodians of forests like serving a community of peers. Sometimes it's better to be surrounded by friends than family, she concluded. Hopping down from the lowest branch, Valanthe heads back inside Lorcan’s longhouse.

Tentatively walking in she sits down next to Sascha, deliberately bumping shoulders with her as a greeting. “I mean, I would like to ride Solis, but I’m not much of a rider - I’d probably fall off.” She says to break the ice and as a way to acknowledge what Sascha had said back at the campfire. “Rivyre’s not here - is she ok? Is that her crying” feeling awful at the thought of someone being in such distress.

But before Valanthe could inquire further Moz appears with the broth and the mead for Alorin. Accepting the mission, she takes the bowl and mug over to where Alorin is and kneels down next to him. When he doesn’t acknowledge her she gently puts her hand on his shoulder and gives him a little shake. “I have stew… and…“ sniffing the mug “eugh…mead, I think?” Shaking him a little more “Alorin… you need to eat something.”

Frustrated at his lack of response she sits back and says more sternly, but still quietly “Are you going to eat this stew or am I going to have to feed to like a baby, Alorin Vonsin?”

Angus, setting down the soup and bandages, heads back inside to grab a spare blanket. He whistles for Timber, who has been lying next to the hearth since his arrival. Reluctantly, Timber wakes from his slumber and follows Angus out the door.
"Come on buddy, we've a friend in need and you know how bad I am with words. Think you could help me out on this one?" Angus says to Timber as he ruffles his fur and gives him a good scratch behind the ears.
Rounding the back of the longhouse once more, Angus slowly approaches Rivyre, seeing Slyetha atop her, says "Furry one, would you mind me gifting a blanket and bedroll?"
Angus attempts to carefully lay a blanket atop Rivyre. "I've a bedroll if you would rather lay your head on that than the ground, Sister." He leaves the bedroll next to her and begins gathering wood for a fire, using some a spare flask of lantern oil to help light it.

"The smallest light burns brightly in the deepest darkness. Is that how the saying goes?" Angus sits across the fire and begins tending to his wounds in silence. Timber attempts to draw close and give some friendly licks.

Syletha sees Angus come out w/ Timber & blankets & acknowledges w/ big meow & her eyes widen w/ confidence that she knows what Angus is trying to do. She flutters up, flies down & squeezes her way into Rivyre's shaking arms & curls up close to her chest as Angus drapes the blanket over her & Timber starts comfortingly licking Rivyre's face. It takes some time, but the seizing shake slows..., & eventually stops. Her whimpers & crying grow softer..., tears stop flowing from her eyes, she grips Syletha tightly w/ one hand, reaching her other hand to whatever is licking her face & starts petting it, & all audible emotion ceases. She hears Angus's words, "The smallest light burns brightly in the deepest darkness." 

Rivyre's consciousness comes back as she processes what Angus said & thinks to herself, "Well..., close enough"  & slowly opens her eyes, looks up, around, & begins to scooch herself over to the bedroll closer to the warmth of the campfire. Gradually she sits up, brushing the snow off she gathered from rolling on the ground in turmoil, looks to Timber & begins to scratch his chin & behind his ears. Looks down & does the same thing w/ Syletha as she begins purring happy to feel Rivyre coming back to reality. Eventually, she looks at Angus treating his wounds & tending to the fire & softly replies,
"Thank you..., Angus..., & thank you..., Timber. I'm grateful..., for your help." as she shivers from laying in the snow.
"I'm...., sorry you had to see that." as Rivyre lowers her head in shame & embarrassment. "We Eladrin..., are prone to emotional extremes. It comes from..., our millennia of exposure to the chaotic magic of the Fey Wild. I...., haven't had a breakdown like that in nearly a century since converting to the Sacred Flame."

As Rivyre speaks, Angus observes subtle physical changes to her appearance. Her skin tone gradually turns from a vibrant orange & starts to go pale... as pale white as the snow on the ground, her lips turn light blue like that you would find on a frozen corpse. Her hair starts changing to different shades of blue, gray, black, & white. Her eyes transition to an ice blue like you would find on a glacier. Her facial expressions show a great sadness, depression, & no excitement in her body language. It feels as if her soul has been sucked from her body & there's nothing left but an empty shell of the woman Angus first met. More unusually..., Syletha's appearance also mimics what Rivyre has transformed into. Blue/black/white fur, ice blue eyes, & somber body language.

Rivyre looks up again & says in a soft somber tone, "I'm afraid I won't be much help to you on the morrow. You'll need to rely on others whatever you plan to do."
Rivyre's season has changed from Fall, to Winter.

Alorin

Eventually, after a period of time, something breaks Alorin out of his trance-like stupor. Perhaps it was the warmth and the inviting scent of the bowl of stew, perhaps it was El's persistent efforts, or perhaps it was Neris's uncharacteristically stern tone. He turns to Neris, and gives her a forced, watery smile. "Can't have li'l Neris feed me now, can I?" He picks up the bowl with shaky hands, and almost drops it. Thinking better of it, he puts the bowl back on the ground and hunches over it to get some food into his starving belly. In no time at all, the food is gone. El goes up to Neris, gives her a lick and a nuzzle in thanks for her help with Alorin, and settles down in front of them both, close enough to maintain contact. As Alorin finishes his meal, he turns to Neris and tries to console her, "Don't worry, it was just a bad dream. Wasn't the first time I had one, and something tells me it won't be the last, or the worst, unfortunately." He picks up the jug of mead and downs it in a few large gulps, looking for courage at the bottom of the mug, as it were. He puts the mug away, saying "Not a bad brew, but I probably should stop at one given my condition. Neris, would you mind getting me another bowl of stew? I feel somewhat famished. And I wouldn't mind the company awhile longer either." As she gets up to go, Alorin places a hand on his chest over his clothes, as if reaching for something that might help soothe his nerves right now.

Looking up from wounds as Rivyre rights and warms herself with the fire, he drops the bandages and poultice in shock.

"By the Gods! You look as pale as a corpse; have you been afflicted with something? Was it the shadows from the ritual site?" Angus puts the back of his hand to her forehead, checking her temperature.

Somberly Rivyre replies, "Sadly..., my emotions are my affliction. You've brought me out of my panic attack..., but that's only half the battle. My emotions..., also affect my physical appearance & behaviors. We change by the seasons..., & this is Winter where we mimic the rime & frost of the coldest times of the world."

Rivyre's grows even more quiet & reserved.
"We enter this state when we are filled w/ sorrow, regret, depression, & contemplation. Sometimes I may be prone to lashing out, holding grudges, & our tears freeze as we cry. There may be times I may not speak at all. Until the threat of war is averted, until I know what has become of my family, & until no longer feel hated by my own people..., I will remain this cold, depressing appearance, & personality."

Rivyre's words lower to a barely audible whisper, almost as if she's losing the will or desire to talk to people.
"I will follow along where everyone goes..., but the problems the bunch of us need to solve..., i'll be of little help to you in my current state."

As she finishes, she eats some stew, doffs her armor, dons her evening robes, turns her head, lays down into the bedroll, & stares into the fire in a trance like state. The only sounds remain are the campfire & creatures of the night waking as the rest of Skye readies to sleep. 

Moz the Magnificent 

Looking up into the sky. "Might as well get this over with." Gathering up so firewood and kindling, and strapping it to his pack,  he starts trudging up the hilltop , where the Druid had Alorin make his pact. As he reaches the top the sun has began to set. 'Should have just enough light left.'  he thinks to himself. putting the firewood down he prepares a large fire. Once done he clears the snow around the fire. Pulling one of his daggers out he begins to carve into the ground a series of arcane sigils around the fire. The work finished he watches the sun set over the horizon as he drinks the mug of mead. As the last rays of light disappear and the moon raises in the night, he finishes the mead off "Time to get work"  His form shimmers reveling his goblinoid form and his ever-shifting motley.

With a snap of fingers a flame erupts at the among piled logs of the campfire, the fire growing in strength. In the empty mug he puts the herbs and incense he collected from the longhouse. Crushing and stirring it, with the tip of his wand. Speaking arcane words in a song like chant, he begins a ritualistic dance around the fire. As he circles, he starts to throw the mixture in to flames, each pinch bursting in multi coloured smoke. Slowly small creature start to ring the circle of light cast be the fire. Rabbits, Racoons, and other the small creature of the night watch the moonlight performance, their eyes glowing like candles.

As the mug of incense empties, the fire is roaring, and a mult-coloured cloud of smoke hangs. His chant reaches it's crescendo and abruptly ends. The multi-colored smoke shimmers and the form of a massive black cat appears. It is the size of a lion, it's fur as black as midnight, deep purple swirls run like rivers through it's fur. On it chest a single white mark, shaped like a star. The creature exudes an air of regal aloofness and superiority.  Looking down at Moz through the smoke, a disembodied voice speaks "Why do you contact me small one?" 

Bowing deeply to the  image. "Hail Cat-Sith, mightiest of hunters. I request your aid and knowledge, as the laws of our Master's court commends." there is a pause, and the disembodied voice growls as it speaks "As it is commend by the Master." Cat-Sith's amethyst eyes glare down at the goblin, it's white fangs flashing. The disembodied voice echoes in Moz's mind, low and menacing "Know this Goblin, I will serve but I am not that fool Iago. I am Cat-Sith, treat me with respect do me or next time we met in the Wild I will enjoy eating your heart while you still breathe." Bowing once again. "Of course, most purrfect one. It shall be so."  Nine wisps of smoke snake out of the smoke cloud, coalescing into the form of a black cat, with a withe star on it's chest. Dark purple swirls flowing across it's body to a pair of black wing, with blacks feathers tipped in purple. 

"My name Moz the ......"   He says kneeing down to the cat. "I don't care." The disembodied voices says in his mind, as the black cat abruptly turns it's backside towards him and stalks into the darkness in such of prey.

Moz the Magnificent

A gust of wind disperses the multi-coloured smoke into the night's sky. Moz gathers up some snow and tosses it on the fire extinguishing it. He then proceeds to deface the the sigils he carved in the ground. Satisfied with his work he looks into the darkness "Cat-Sith, I'm heading back inside." The black cat strolls out of the darkness, a large rodent in it's mouth. " My hunt is complete, lead on small one" 

Descending the hill the pair head back to the longhouse. Moz puases at the base of the hill.and waves his wand over himself, he shimmers and his goblin visage is replaced by his Gnomish disguise. Holding the furs that cover the entrance open for Cat-Sith. The large cat strides imperiously into the longhouse. Surveying the room he gives the air a few sniffs. "I smell milk. I will have some with my prey. Bring me some." Cat-Sith says in Moz's mind. Walking over to Moz's bedding he deposits the dead rodent on it furs and begins to devour his meal.

Moz let's out a sigh, grabbing an empty bowl he walks over the pail of milk and scoops up a generous amount. Placing it in front of the cat, he looks down "Anything else I can get you?" he asks sarcastically. "Yes, silence. I wish to eat in peace" Cat-Sith growls back mentally. 

As the evening goes late, Moz gives a yawn. Crawling into his blanket fort he lowers the flap closing himself in. Cat-Sith sits in front the closed flap, as still as statue only it's eyes scanning the room as it stands guard over it's "master".

Taking the freshly empty bowl, Valanthe serves Alorin a second helping of stew. Sitting down beside him she starts readying bedrolls and furs "I'll feed the baby when she wakes. You should rest - don't worry about anything else tonight." she says to him giving him permission to consider only his needs "It's not like I really sleep, after all".

As Valanthe works and fusses over the bedding, she begins to reminisce about the forest exploits the two shared when they were younger; of climbing that really tall tree or going hunting and tracking that something big and having to run away when they found it and it was too big - giggling and gasping for breath as they fled. Valanthe hopes the stories give Alorin some mental respite from the burdens he seems to be collecting. Soon enough though, Valanthe is exhausted herself and settles down for her nightly meditation.

"Oh... alright then. Well, eat some stew if you haven't. I'll keep the fire up through the night." Angus finishes bandaging himself and gets himself a spare bedroll and blankets from inside. He joins in the silence, keeping his evening prayers to but a whisper.

Alorin

Neris’s stories bring an almost-smile to Alorin’s lips. He slowly savors his second bowl of stew, making sure to finish it all off. Once he is done with the meal, he quickly checks himself over to make sure no serious wounds remain. Once he is happy with his condition, he settles into his bedroll, his eyes still on Neris, the baby, and El, as if he wants to keep them safe even in his sleep. Slowly, but surely, as the mists of the Vague drift over the clearing outside, the mists of sleep drift over his eyes, and Alorin falls asleep.

Quote from DreadTamiColdcackle >>

Valanthe sobs into Alorin’s shoulder as even the tiniest demonstration of kindness is enough to tip her over the edge “How are we supposed to stop a war if we can’t stop fighting each other? Why are people so dumb?” she sniffs and sobs. “And I said ******* - and I never say that.”

She stops where she is not yet at the longhouse. “I’m not going in there - not with that stupid druid - it is all his and Sir Lorn’s fault: the delirium, starting a war and now whatever he has made you do. That’s not fair, Alorin, you shouldn’t be having to make pacts with absent gods to atone for someone else’s sins.” 

She squeezes Alorin’s arm as a thank you and then looks at Moz “I’m starting to think you’re the dragon, Moz. Disguised as a gnome toying with the mortals for fun”.

And she heads into the forest and calls back “I’m going to climb a tree. You can see things are better when you’re up a tree.”

-------

As the sun begins to disappear below the treeline, Valanthe climbs down from the tall pine she had sat in for the last hour: the crisp, pine-scented air, and the smells of the forest reminded her of her childhood home and she smiled at memories of climbing trees with her father. Elves have a different relationship with trees than most. With similar lifespans, trees are more like friends than elders or guardians and elves become the custodians of forests like serving a community of peers. Sometimes it's better to be surrounded by friends than family, she concluded. Hopping down from the lowest branch, Valanthe heads back inside Lorcan’s longhouse.

Tentatively walking in she sits down next to Sascha, deliberately bumping shoulders with her as a greeting. “I mean, I would like to ride Solis, but I’m not much of a rider - I’d probably fall off.” She says to break the ice and as a way to acknowledge what Sascha had said back at the campfire. “Rivyre’s not here - is she ok? Is that her crying” feeling awful at the thought of someone being in such distress.

But before Valanthe could inquire further Moz appears with the broth and the mead for Alorin. Accepting the mission, she takes the bowl and mug over to where Alorin is and kneels down next to him. When he doesn’t acknowledge her she gently puts her hand on his shoulder and gives him a little shake. “I have stew… and…“ sniffing the mug “eugh…mead, I think?” Shaking him a little more “Alorin… you need to eat something.”

Frustrated at his lack of response she sits back and says more sternly, but still quietly “Are you going to eat this stew or am I going to have to feed to like a baby, Alorin Vonsin?”

Seeing the Wisdom in Moz' suggestion, Sascha accepts the bowl. What she says, however, when she speaks to Alorin may not be particularly comforting.  'One of the hardest things I learned in the civil war was that there's very rarely a right and a wrong side to a conflict. Everyone believes they're serving the highest ideal they can, or, at least, that they're doing what's best for them in a hard situation, and the truth of the matter is that what we've done here, was for the good of that child, and as far as I understand it for Skye as a whole. Perhaps we've offended Kromac. Perhaps that's even a bad thing. Certainly, our actions have placed good men in danger, and made the lives of others harder than they needed to be.  It's up to ust to trust that we did that for the right reasons, and to choose how we correct it if we didn't. Second guess yourself later, Alorin. There'll be time enough when we're out of the situation. I'll be doing the same." 

Valanthe's presence bought a sense of calm to Sascha after  delivering this speech. Company, a friend, even if not one she knew well. Someone who seemed grateful for her presence, even if Sascha had been thoughtless in her comments about the fey previously. Something she felt another twinge of guilt for as the elf spoke to her.

"You'd have me to hang on to. It's less difficult than you might expect." She responds, grateful not to have alienated Valanthe entirely. She glances over, smiling at the contact of their shoulders. "She wears her heart on her sleeve. I think she'll be alright, but I imagine she needs time to process. I'm... Pretty overwhelmed myself." 

Looking around the camp, Sascha's eyes find Moz as he escapes back into his blanket fort. Only then does Sascha move to help herself to some more stew, and to sit close by Alorin and Valanthe. She eats, she drinks and she listens to Neris' tales.  As she relaxes, and the cool air of Vague mingles with the heat of the flame, she finds comfort, and peace, or at least enough tiredness that sleep seems reasonable. Finishing the last of her stew she looks  first to the dozing Alorin, and then to Neris once again. "My stories aren't as fun, but if you ever want to hear some war tales, I can do that." 

She offers as she closes her eyes.

"Wake me if anything worries you. don't hesitate." She tells the elf, though as she makes this statement she yawns, and begins to settle down for the evening.

Our heroes spend a restful night, curled up in furs in the longhouse, broken only by the stress and anxiety of the recent events, and the waking of the baby every couple of hours to cry for food and comfort. The bucket of milk stands ready, and Alorin, Valanthe, and whoever else is nearby is quickly able to feed and quiet her.

Angus and Rivyre, bundled up outside the back of the longhouse with the glowing embers of a dying fire and the steamy breath and warmth of Beef keeping them warm, are the first to see the light of dawn as it breaks through the dense forest. The minute sound of rushing water underneath the river's ice has given a soothing backdrop to the eerie stillness of the forest, and the night has passed undisturbed. The first thing Angus and Rivyre notice with the breaking of dawn is that the sky and the air is clear--the mist of the Vague is gone. While the unpredictability of Vague means it can last for several days, it appears that in this case, it only lasted one day. Frigid, icy air steams their breath in copious clouds. It is bone-chillingly cold, but clear, and the rising sun trickles light through the fir branches.

Inside the smokey dark of the longhouse, dawn is less evident. But the brightening spot of light coming from the smokehole in the ceiling shows the time, even if it isn't sufficient light to wake the sleepers. The Druid rises just before dawn, his wounds reduced to red lines on his skin as he removes the poultices that worked over night. Lorcan too is up early, moving quietly in and out of the longhouse, feeding his cattle and sheep, chopping ice out of the river and bringing it in to melt over the fire. The Druid speaks to him in low tones, and then, bundling up in his bearskin cloak and painting a rusty red mixture in lines onto his face, he steps out of the longhouse and walks away into the forest. A moment's glance, and he is not there anymore--a large grizzly bear lopes fast over the snow, quickly disappearing from sight.

Moz the Magnificent 

Within the darkness of his blanket fort, Moz is peacefully snoreing way. Moz likes good a lie in. Dreaming of Sugarplum Fairies and Candycane Elves dancing into his mouth, the last Winter Solstice party in his Master's Court got a little crazy. These images are abruptly interrupted by a furry mass sitting on his face.

" Wake up green one, I am hungry, get me more of that milk." Cat-Sith's voice whispers in his mind. Sitting up Moz rubs his eyes. " You know most familiars show more respect to thier Master ". The Sphinx tilts his head, eyes flashing. "Is that how you view our relationship?" His voice low and menacing. " You the Master and me the Servant?" The last word dripping Malice. Moz very nervously responds. "Errrrrr. I wouldn't call it that....... maybe more of a partnership?" The minute Cat-Sith spends staring at Moz feels like an eternity. "Very well I will accept you as a hunting partner." The cat quickly swats him across the face. "Now get me some of that milk before the mewling pink thing eats it all." 

Renewing his disguise spell, Moz rolls out of blanket fort. A few rays of dawn filter into the cabin. Stretching out somewhat dramatically, he gets Cat-Sith his bowl of milk. Heading over to the cooking fire he sees that Lorcan has put a kettle of water on to boil. Grabbing a teapot from a shelf and putting on the table. From his pack he pulls out a jar of rich brown, very fine powder.

Ahhhh Four Elements Java. First, the beans are roasted in Elemental Plane of Fire, before being taken to the Plane of Air where the eternal winds dry the beans out. Then, in the deep winter of the Plane of Water, they are frozen before ending up in the Plane of Earth, where they are ground into an ultra fine powder. Four Elements Java, start your day powered by the Elements.

Depositing a few spoonfuls of the powder into the teapot he fills it up with the boiling water from the kettle. Grabbing a mug from the shelf he pours himself a cup. Tasting it he winches at the heat. " Needs a little sugar and milk." Whispering an arcane word (Prestidigitation), adding a spoonful from milk pail, he sips it again. "Ahhh, perfect." Scanning the room, he looks around to see who else is waking.

As the sun slowly peers above the horizon & it's rays pierce through the tree, Rivyre sits up from her bedroll & immediately notices the bone chilling & frigid air w/ the fire of the campsite nearly gone out. She knows she won't last long in her nightwear w/ this weather. She gathers her bag & her armor, walks behind the longhouse, & begins to don her armor & Sacred Flame vestments to block the cold Chimesday air. Her cold breath doesn't dissipate as she breathes out, but almost coalleses around her..., must be the way she feels now inhabitaing the Winter season. Her cold & depressing feelings weighing her down w/ little desire to interact w/ people. After donning her armor, robes, & weapons, she walks back around to the campsite & pushes snow over the remaining embers of the campfire & extingusihing them. Telepathically, she speaks: "Come, Syletha. Let's see what the morning has given." Syletha slowly rises from her slumber, brushes her eyes, & lets out a big yawn..., looking just as tired & somber, her fur & eyes mimicing Rivyre's appearance.

Rivyre & Syletha move around to the front of the longhouse & she places her pack on Beef's sled. A few mins later she see the The Druid come out of Lorcan's Longhouse bundled up in his bearskin cloaks & face painted w/ some red substance. "Blood?" she thinks to herself. He walks past w/out saying a single word to her as she watches him to disappear into the forest, & suddenly transforms into a large bear, then begins running downhill..., presumably towards Darryl to start rallying troops, just as he said he would do.
Looking to Syletha & speaks softly, "Well..., he's not wasting any time is he?"
Rivyre pulls the hood of her cloak above her head as she walks over to the longhouse, barely pulls back the thick curtains & peeks inside while pulling the hood of her cloak down trying to mask her new cold & depressing appearance. (Stealth Check @ Disadvantage: 7) 
(see entry 289 for physical appearence description).

She sees Valanthe is also up & about & looks to be tending to the infant. That's a small confort to see w/ everything else going on. Lorcan seems to up as well doing his morning routine. Not wanting to disturb the others, nor in a talking mood, she pulls out of the curtains & heads back to the sled, & takes a seat peering into the forest in silent contemplation wondering what troubles the day will bring.

Valanthe places the freshly fed and cleaned baby back in its sleeping place and waits a few moments as the babe settles back to sleep. She takes the soiled cloth outside before using the snow to wash her hands. Quietly, Valanthe places more fuel onto the hearth fire where Lorcan had cooked the stew the night before, and with a few words of encouragement - as quietly as she can speak them - wills the fire back to life.

Returning to where she slept, Valanthe settles back into the warmth of her bedroll and clears her mind to re-enter the trance-like state while waiting for the others. Her awareness shifts to her environment, reaching out with her senses to attune to and become one with her surroundings: she notes how the cool air warms as it enters her lungs; she listens to the deep, slow breaths of Alorin and Sascha and the sound of the cattle beginning to stir; and now the warm, smokey air as the fire log begins to burn more intensely. Valanthe remains in this state of heightened, but removed awareness waiting for the longhouse to awake. It is just before dawn but the nights are long and the days are short so she has some extra waiting for the light of day.

Movement from the longhouse pulls her focus once again to her surroundings. She is aware of people moving about but things are still quiet. She remains still, listening to all the sounds of the longhouse without reaction. Presently, a conversation begins: it is The Druid talking to Lorcan. She listens to the men speak:

(Perception Check to hear the conversation between the Druid and Lorcan: 19+1=20)

The Druid leaves. His footsteps crunch on the snow and then change and fade into the distance. Now, different footsteps approach the hut and Valanthe awakes and stands up next to the baby’s makeshift crib. A face appears in the doorway. It is Rivyre... Or is it?

Valanthe moves out of the longhouse, following this new Rivyre and finds her sitting on the sled she approaches cautiously, weary of the events of the day defore. "The Vague has gone. Only a brief season this time. We should have a less eventful journey to Darryl today" she opens the conversation on a relatively neutral topic to gauge Rivyre's state of mind.