the stranger
The long road winded ahead into the dense forest. The road itself was narrow, only a carriage and a half wide though it was one of the main tracks between Humidor and Yarrowitch city. It had well worn grooves where carts have past and a hundred years worth of paw, hoof and foot prints overlapped. Another set walked the road near the middle of a warm summers day. The feet in question were clothed in a thin leather wrapping shoes which was worn near the heel . The wrap was held together by tough twine in a lace that wrapped around their calf. However a long cloak hid from the figures ankles up. Thick and woollen it was out of place in the summer time and under the large drawn hood someone panted in the heat. It covered the travellers entire body and looked dirty and often worn. The long sleeves covered the figures hands as they walked and the hood was drawn right over their head. The traveller travelled quickly and lightly across the old trail, their feet making hardly any mark on the ground. Their body swayed as they walked as if the cloak was to much weight for their body. In the distance a puff of dust grew on the path. Underneath the hood, dark green emerald eyes narrowed and a hand underneath the sleeve reached up and pulled the hood down further over the travellers face. The traveller moved to the side of the road as the convey grew visible. First in the convey came two men on horse back. The horses were short and stocky, obviously from the mountain ranges far to the north. The traveller deduced from this that the convoy was a travelling troupe. The men on the backs of the horses rode bare back. Both were in their late twenties at the least, and both with short worn swords strapped to their sides. A precaution only by the look of the rust on the hilts. Their chest were bare of clothing but not lacking in decoration as tattoos crawled in the dozens over the sun burnt flesh. The man on the left was bald and his tattoos crawled from across his chest and back, up his shoulder and across one cheek. The other had only one tattoo of a spiralled sun in the middle of his hairy chest. His long hair was tied back in a pony tail. Next to come was a pull cart, pulled by a large woollen ox. Inside, brightly coloured children played and laughed as their equally bright mothers walked beside them. Their sun coloured brown faces beamed in delight as they played with their parents tools of trade; hoops, balls, cards and juggling pins that one day they too shall take up in work and not play. The mothers had foreign jewellery hanging in chunk chains around their necks and their exotic rainbow clothes fluttered around them. Many had the same tribunal tattoos that the first two men had. Their ears were pierced and so were some faces. Bells were woven through the peoples hair and tied by strings around wrists and ankles. More of the convoy followed filled with carts and caravans and brightly covered people. They sung and danced and ran around their moving home. Each face was filled with a joy that was unknown to the traveller and the traveller found that tears threatened to come loose from their tight control. The first two men past, the bald one staring a little longer then the traveller was comfortable with. Next came the children and the women. The woman berated the children when they pointed and laughed at the cloaked figure, snapping in some foreign tongue. The traveller turned their face away from the people as the rustle of the moving troupe passed. The flags of the troupe waved in the breeze they created and the people walked by happily enough to ignore the stranger. In total their was eight caravans and five carts, which were pulled by either horses or oxen. The traveller resisted the urge to breath out in relief as the last few caravans past. Behind the traveller, the leading horses of the gypsy troupe neighed and sharp words were carried down the line. The troupe was coming to a halt. The traveller also stopped and turned against their better judgement to look behind. The liquid green eyes could see further then the eyes of the jugglers who stuck heads from their caravans. Almost in a daze the traveller moved closer to the convoy, unnoticed by the people and stood with them. Foreign words in different languages were whispered as up ahead, a platoon of guards talked hurriedly with the lead bald man. The traveller swayed on the spot and for a moment their vision blurred then cleared. The bald man listened attentively to the guards questions and answered quickly and respectively as he could. The lead guard looked down on the peasant with scorn as the bald man explained where they were going and why. He hesitated when asked if they had seen anyone pass by. Into mind floated the stranger in a winter cloak. Slowly he shook his head thinking it wise not to get his people mixed up in something potentially dangerous. The guard said something foul about the bald mans mother and spat at his feet before commanding his fellows to go round the troupe. Both bald man and traveller watched them pass as the people huddled close together. The children were silent as the guards past and no bell tinkled. The traveller hid behind a cart as the guards pasted by. Their armour clattered as they moved and their war breed stallions snorted. Once they had past the people of the convoy came out of the caravans and headed up the line to hear the story of the guards. The traveller nodded to some people who looked at them and turned to continue on their way. Suddenly the travellers vision blurred and they stumbled, one hand clutching their side. They swayed and caught the edge of a caravan to support themselves. A juggler stopped and turned in time to see the traveller fall. "Hey! Are you ok!?" His shout got the attention of the convoy as he rushed to help. The traveller was laying face to the ground and was as limp as a rag doll. He rolled the traveller over and gasped as the hood fell from the travellers face. The bald man fought to the front of the growing crowd and looked down on the traveller with shock and fear. "Kilkoria" he muttered in his native tongue. The word past like a ripple through the gathered people. The traveller moaned through her short snout which was covered in a short dark grey fur. The same fur covered her face and down her neck into her clothes. No doubt it covered her whole body. Large pointed ears were atop her head, much akin to the wolves in the forest. Around her neck and atop her head was a short thick mane of black fur and once again the wolf creature moaned in pain. The bald man crouched and touched the creatures head hesitantly. He brushed back some of her fur gently to feel the skin beneath. In the common tongue he spoke aloud. "she's cold and her skin is white as the city of marble." he looked her over and noticed a damp patch on her side. He gestured the young man who was cradling her to move his arm as the bald man peeled back the cloak. She was naked underneath but as he suspected she was covered in the dark grey fur that covered her face. On her stomach and between her breast however her fur was a almost white. He winced as he saw what was causing her pain. Her side had been gashed open, a long cut that was blocked with scabbed covered fur and dried pus. Blood still made it damp and the skin was undoubtedly infected. To himself the bald man wondered how she managed to escape the city with such a wound and walk so far with no rest. He covered her back up and turned to the people who were gathered around. They gazed at him with respect in their eyes and their ears and hearts open to what their leader has to say. "we must help her." he said and his people nodded in agreement. And so they did.
The wolf woman awoke in a dark room. She lay in a bundle of hay in the corner of the small space. Light leaked in from the door frame to illuminate the bare contents of her prison. Besides the hay their was nothing else except thick heavy curtains blocking a window no doubt. She sat up slowly, mindful of her side and noticed for the first time it was tightly bandaged. She touched it with one paw hesitantly . She was also wearing some kind of clothing that humans called skirt. A small hole was cut out of the back for her large bushy tail to poke through. She was also wearing a shirt that hid her breasts and the sleeves came down to her wrists. Slowly she got to her bottom paws and stood. She swayed slightly and caught the wall to steady herself. She blinked slowly to clear her sight and took a few steps forward when the door swung outwards. She fell backwards onto her bottom in the hay with a grunt of pain as it shot up her side. In the doorway stood a woman holding a tray with a steaming bowl. Woman and wolf stared at each other for a moment taking in the sight of each other. The woman in the door was dark haired and with large brown eyes. Her gypsy skin shown in the dieing light behind her and her layers of clothing hung off her without covering her slightly rounded figure. Around her wrists were bells and across her right cheek was a tribal tattoo. She offered the wolf woman a small friendly smile and the creature moved back against the wall eyeing the human suspiciously. The human took a step into the room and raised the tray slightly. "Are you hungry?" she asked softly. The creature didn't move keeping her eyes on the woman. The human took another step in, still smiling. "You gave me quiet a scare. You had lost a lot of blood when Marcos helped you." she said watching for a reaction. When she got none her smile died a small bit. She put the tray down and pushed it forward slightly. She stood straight again and clasped her hands in front of her. "Can you understand me at all?" she asked. The wolf creature just stared. The human woman smiled and tilted her head. "If you can understand me, we are just trying to help." She watched the wolf woman a little longer then took a step backwards. She pointed to the bowl then at her mouth then rubbed her stomach. "Its food. Rabbit soup. You eat it, its really nice." she said as she made the gestures. Again she got no reaction and she sighed. "I guess you don't understand me. it's a shame, the stories you must be able to tell." she went to the door then looked back in. "I just want to help you that's all." she went out and grasped the door to close it when the wolf woman spoke. "Thank you." The human looked up in surprise. In her excitement the gypsy went back inside right up to the wolf who crawled back as far as she could into her corner giving a warning growl. The human kneeled and raised her hands in submission. "I don't mean you any harm, Kilkario." she whispered. The wolf woman stiffened and gave a weak growl. "Do not call me that" she muttered. Her voice was a beautiful low melodic tone which rumbled from her throat. Her nose twitched as the aroma of the food drifted towards the half starved wolf. Her eyes never left the strange gypsy's face and her body was held taunt in a half crouch, half sitting position to favour her injury. The human woman stayed still, entranced by the creatures movements. "It is what you are is it not? A part human, part animal creation of the great Mother" the gypsy asked softly as she contained her curiosity. To this the wolf creature snorted dismissively. "it matters not what I am. All I can be now is your prisoner." the wolf woman dropped her head and gestured with one clawed paw to the door where a stern faced gypsy lad peered inside with a spear clutched so tightly his knuckles were white. "please leave me human." Grunted the wolf as her wound throbbed with dulled pain. Disappointment flashed across the gypsy's face before being replaced with wary politeness. The woman stood reluctantly as she sensed the Kilkoria wanted to be left alone. However she paused once more in the doorway with one hand on the frame. With the other ring covered hand she shoed away the crowd of people that had started to peer into the open caravan and said over her shoulder. "If you need anything just ask for Mila and they will get me." and with that she stepped out into the fading light shutting the door behind her causing the Kilkario to be condemned to darkness. Only when the last of the light had faded from the doorframe did the wolf move from her defensive position. Her injury throbbed and her muscles were stiff but still she analysed every movement, expecting attack. She creped forward slowly from her corner and once she was sure no ambush was planned, she aloud herself to sniff at the now cold soup. .Despite sitting there during the short conversation and the hour it took for the light to fully disappear, the scent of half cooked rabbit flesh, mushrooms and boiled herbs caused her mouth to water. As she leaned close to the tray, she spied a wooden spoon next to the bowl. She snorted and her eyes narrowed in contempt before she picked up the bowl with her uninjured sides hand. She kept her eyes of the door as she shuffled back into the hay filled corner. Once there she settled into a sitting position so she could lean back against the corner of the caravan. Finally she ate, counting her bites so as not to eat so fast her malnourished and abused body would protest. The rabbit was not fully cooked which was the way she enjoyed her meat and the herbs created an interesting new taste. Even the mushrooms were enjoyable, smoked before cooked in the broth and caused the wolf to wonder about the sincerity of the gypsy woman Mila.