The conversation sounded muffled. He couldn’t quite hear it through the canvas of the tent. Every movement caused pain throughout his body. The fur beneath him was at least keeping him warm. Gentle sounds of rain tapping on the canvas soothed his clouded mind. It wasn’t worth the effort to sit up and so he laid there, exhausted. Trying to remember where and why. Nothing came to the forefront of his mind. It went dark.

Morning ambience woke him. The sounds of forest creatures were loud and clear, as if they were in the tent with him. He managed to pull himself upright into a sitting position. His vision was still cloudy and his eyes hurt if too much light caught them.

There was a mug of water next to him. He sipped at it. Anyone watching would have thought he was an elder taking a warm tea to help heat their bones. His body was covered in moss and wraps. All about the fur bed that he slept on were rags covered in blood, some fresher than others. 

He laid back down with slow breaths. How long it had been since the tapping of rain he didn’t know. How many times had he woken and could only remember the feel of the fur beneath him?

Small hands dabbed a sponge like cloth against his torso. Each dab brought pain. Fresh wraps were applied. He could smell incense, the odour reminded him of Ash trees. He tried to reach out to them but his arms were too heavy.

Clarity of vision was slowly coming back with each time he woke. He could now see the interior of the canvas tent. It was a decent size, easily able to bed three or four folk. Bed furs were all around the floor except by the entrance where a thick bristled hand brush sat. 

Everything was at a low height, the wooden table held the burning Ash incense, and other small bowls of herbs and such. A staff of Yew was resting against the central pole. He recognised it but couldn't place it from where. 

Another morning and he could sit and twist a little. It was sore and uncomfortable but not enough to stop him. The wraps were less and less soaked in blood with each waking. The water tasted fresher these days, it was enjoyable. 

He was now able to sleep comfortably for periods of time instead of the unconscious state his wounds were causing him. It was still difficult to stand but when he did he remained in the tent. He wasn’t ready to face the outside world yet. His memories were coming back to him and the  overwhelming feelings of sorrow and loss cut him deep. 

The mushroom stew was thick and tasty, after his third bowl of it he burped loudly. He had lost weight, his hair was longer and wilder, the beard on his face heavy and matted. Bits of the stew hung in it as he wiped his mouth clean. 

The tent flap was pulled back and a cold breeze swept in. He shivered and pulled the furs about his bony frame. His carer entered, a very young halfling with a beaming smile and a small grey mouse running about her shoulders. It had confused him when he was first able to lay eyes on her and he asked for an adult. 

She hadn’t been offended but simply explained that it was only her, and the only adult here was him. Every day she changed his wraps and applied healing mosses and clean wraps. She had brought him food and drink and had kept the Ashen incense going, constantly.

“Morning sleepy head.” she beamed into the tent putting down a basket of freshly picked mushrooms. The moisture of the morning still clinging to her.

“Morning.” He drank the cool water.

“How are we feeling today?”

“Thin.” he smiled softly.

“You’d feel less thin if you went outside and took a deep breath.”

He looked at the sparkle in her bright chestnut eyes and sighed. The thought of agreeing was fleeting. He then shook his head. 

“Not yet. It still hurts just before I take the step. Like a blade in my heart that deepens the closer I get.” Karolus started at the tent doorway.

She walked over and did her usual checks. There was a great amount of care in her and it showed. The wraps were adjusted and the moss removed and fresh applied. 

“Are you ready to tell me your name?” he asked her as he winced as she checked his right eye.

“I shall tell you mine when you tell me yours.” and she patted him on the head. 

“Karolus.” and had taken a moment of shifting through his thoughts, but it was the first name that came.

“Say again?” she squished his cheeks together.

“My name, my name is Karolus.” he beamed and laughed at the funny sound his voice made because of his squished cheeks.

“See, now was that so difficult?”  

“More than it should have been.”

“Well, pleased to meet you Karolus, my name is Yina.” she held out her halfling hand for him to shake.

“Yina?” Karolus paused, he knew the name. But it belonged to a much older halfling. One he knew recently. 

Another thought entered his mind, was it even recently? How long had it been since he knew that name?

“Yes, Yina.” She looked quizzical.

“Sorry, I knew another Yina. Thank you.”

“For what?”

He looked at the wraps and moss as an obvious gesture.

“Don’t be silly. I couldn’t just leave you out there. I wouldn’t be a very good druid if I did.”

“You're a druid as well?” he asked curiously.

“As well as what?”

He waved the question off. 

“How did you get me here?” 

“I turned into a bear and carried you, well there was some dragging as well, but don’t worry I didn’t bite you. I rested when the magic wore off but it was easy enough.” her smile clearly a permanent feature.

Karolus didn’t notice his mouth was slightly open because of the causal statement. He looked quizzically at her for a moment. He had seen another Yina do this, well not a bear but a wolf. 

His head was foggy enough without trying to work out if Yina before him was a relation of Old Yina or if it just so happened that there were two shapeshifting druid halflings called Yina. 

“When you say it like that I feel daft asking.” Karolus smiled and drank more. 

He could only remember bits of his time before he woke in the tent. He knew he had faced scaled beasts with teeth and claws but not much of what they looked like. 

He had described them to Yina as being black and orange but there was no beast in the highlands of that colouration. 

There wasn’t a reason in his memory either. Why was he being attacked by teeth and claws? At first he hadn’t tried to remember, his body was in too much pain. 

But more recently he had tried to concentrate and pull everything to the forefront and piece everything together from before.

It wasn’t working or at least not as fast as he wanted it to. Yina was amazing and helping him heal without asking for payment or reward was a trait Karolus was glad she had. He had nothing to give her, if she ever asked.

“Yina.”

“Yes Karolus.” She moved the basket of mushrooms towards the furs she slept on. 

“How long have I been here?”

“Mmm, let me see. You missed the solstice and the quiet ones will be blooming in a couple of moons, so maybe three moons.” she didn’t turn to face and kept about her task of mushroom sorting. 

“Three months” Karolus felt panicked, anxiety rushed through him as he stood. The cup fell from his hand and water soaked into the fur.

Yina moved swiftly and was at his side holding him steady. 

“Your wounds were deep, my magic only works on the smaller wounds. So I turned to the land for help. Now sit down and slow your breathing.” Yina settled him down. 

Three months of his life spent in and out of unconsciousness, on the brink of death, only still alive by the kind heart of a young druid who was certain was Old Yina, but he’d seen her die.

It had been a few days since he found out he had lost three months of his life to the confinement of a tent. There was an urgency building in him. 

He was missing something important and frustratingly couldn’t bring it to the forefront of his mind.

Karolus stood before the tent entrance, that same feeling of dread holding him there. To step out was to be consumed by it. If he stayed in the tent then everything would be alright, everything was safe. 

Another side of him tore into that dread, screaming at him to face the danger, to step through the canvas. He felt the leather grip of a familiar handle, that of a sword that once he held. He knew it. 

His hand outstretched , fingers on the canvas. He took a deep breath and stepped out.

At first he struggled for air. A year under canvas did not prepare him for the ice cold bite on his throat. But he faced it anyway. Taking in the picturesque winter forest scene before him. 

Many animals pottered about the home of Yina. The glade had a tent and makeshift lean to, built around the roots of a fallen tree. Beasts of all sizes hung around the camp having no fear of either Karolus or Yina. Sometimes he would find them nuzzling against his leg. 

It was slow at first as the air felt to him as if he had breathed it for the first time. It was intoxicating. Yina would laugh at him alot and make fun of his hair and beard being too heavy for him to carry around. When he saw his reflection in the pond nearby he couldn’t help but smile and agree. 

Karolus' strength was returning and he was able to walk with Yina as she collected berries, herbs, mushrooms and pretty much anything she thought she could cook or turn into a medicinal. She tried to teach him the minor magic of a druid. Things like causing flowers to bloom or healing a small cut.

He had never managed to do it but Yina commented often on his affinity with the nearby animals. Sometimes they feared him, other times they wouldn’t leave his side. 

Often Yina would make fun but it was always with a genuine smile. She did not remind him of the older Yina. The aged druid, struggling to walk around without the aid of a stick or a horse drawn wagon. 

Karolus paused, a wagon, there were shadows about the wagon. But he couldn't see their faces. They were small, or at least similar to Yina. One was big, far bigger than the rest.

“Are you ok Karolus?”

“I think.” he said, staring into space, his hand out in front of him.

“What do you see?” she asked softly.

He took a deep breath and squinted his eyes trying to focus. 

“I can’t, but I hear them. The horses, the creaking of the wagon. Old Yina grumbling, and…”

“And?”

“I see a light, bright about her chest. I see a holy...” tears rolled down his cheek. 

“Ha! I aint no angel boy but I’ll take the compliment. Yer look like shite lad.” a halfling in chainmail and half plate, a kilt of brown and black tartan snapped him out of his vision. 

She was heavily scarred across her face, one eye ruined and half the hair missing on her scalp. It was as if a battle had happened and she had been at the centre of it. 

“Stella!” he half called, half whispered, holding his stomach.

“Aye, yer been a git to find. I should’ve known Old Yina would have thee.” Stella nodded at the halfling youth with a toothy smile.

Karolus stumbled forwards and dropped to his knees grabbing her and squeezing tightly. Everything about her was so familiar. The smells, touch and sound of her breathing. Tears ran freely. She patted him softly.

The half plate was new, and made the hug a hazard but he didn’t care. Memories poured from him.

“Now now Karolus, I’m here. Let's get a drink and some grub. I’ve been travelling for near a week to get here.” she turned him and pulled his hand towards a fire that Yina had magically manifested. 

Stella put her hammer and shield down at her side as she took a seat on a stump. Both were different from last time, he was sure of it.

“Yer need a haircut lad, you look like one of those forest hermits. Here, drink this.” she passed him a heavy waterskin. 

Taking a sip it was liquid heat, right through to the belly. The taste was unknown to him but it seemed to perk him up and wash away the overwhelming feeling of emotion. He wiped his mouth and passed it back.

“Stella what happened? Yina says I’ve been here for months!” he exclaimed. 

“What yer mean what happened?” the halfling looked curiously at him, as if confused by his question. 

“I mean to me, to you, to Yina. I saw you both die.” he looked just as confused back.

Sadness in her eyes Stella moved her log cutting round to sit next to him.

“We were in a fight lad, a terrible one. Old Yina fell, but took one of those Gila bastards with her!” Stella shouted at Yina as she tended the badgers that had made their way into the glade. 

“Wait..you think she’s Old Yina?” he chuckled. 

“As true as mine and your eyes see her lad. Yina is a druid of the Iodhadh.” she had to catch herself as Karolus stood quickly.

“Iomadh!” panic in his eyes, more memories.

“Shit, Glencora! Glen!” the world began to spin again, his heartbeat pounding in his mind.

He saw them, stood beyond the treeline. A mint green robe clinging to their form in the rain, their auburn hair soaking, hanging loose. Copper eyes stared at him. Karolus ran towards the image, the badgers scattered baring teeth at the highlander.

“Glen! Glen!” he shouted as loud as his lungs would let him. 

The figure stepped backwards and behind a tree vanishing. He ran around it more than once refusing to accept they weren’t there. 

“Glen! Please! Come back! Whatever I did I’m sorry! Glen!” Karolus dropped to his knees and dug his fingers deep in the soil. 

Stella and Yina were several feet from him. Yina held a small green orb of light in her hand and Stella was brandishing the shield and hammer. 

“Easy boy, easy. We got yer.” Stella stepped in, hanging the hammer at her hip and pulled him into an embrace. 

“I saw them Stella, right here, I saw them.” he felt exhausted.

“It’s ok lad. Yina you got anything to help with the shakes?” the older halfling turned to the younger.

“Oh, yes. Here Karolus, eat.” and Yina offered him a purple berry, perfectly round. 

He took it and chewed. Within moments his breathing became regular and he didn’t feel the exhaustion that came with whatever was happening to him. The day was testing him he knew that much.

“I didn’t know you couldn’t remember lad. I’m sorry. I will do my best to explain what I know. But yer got to let me finish speaking before yer spike again.” she looked at him with a sad smile.

He felt more bad news was on its way but he had to know. He nodded.

The winter night was fully about them so all three were in the tent and Yina had it warmed with druidic magic. As they ate a little and drank beautifully clear water Stella told Karolus all about the Calvarians coming to the Toan Highlands. 

All across the highlands villages and towns had been sacked. It seemed they were looking for specific people. At first they had the element of surprise and it had been easy for them. 

But when it was realised Toan’s started fighting back. The Clans defend their own and those around them. Blood is being spilled in terrible amounts on both sides. 

Stella then went on to speak of Glencora, and how they had given themselves over to the Fae creature known as Iomadh so that Karolus and his brother could get away.

“Connor.” The word was spoken quieter than a whisper. Tears came again but the world did not spin this time. They were tears of loss, of grief. He vomited outside the tent.

He remembered more and more as Stella told the story. The fire, his home, taking his mother with it. How he had carried Connor away, Glen’s deal with the Fae. 

For what? The Calvarians still took him. 

“Did they kill Connor?” The question was the hardest few words he had ever spoken.

“From what we know they took them back to Calvaria. Galwyn’s Douén couldn't have had any other information.”

“Galwyn! He's alive?” 

“Aye, and thank the Drydakka he is. Those Douén keep giving the Calvarians a hell of a beating.”

“I need to find him.” Karolus sat up straight. 

He then paused as a memory slowly took form in his mind. There were two halflings missing from the two in front of him.

“I am so sorry Stella, for Aden and Roland. Truly. I didn’t mean for people to get hurt.” he offered.

“Ain't nothing to be sorry about, those tough bastards would do it all over again if given the choice. Remember that when we head north.”

“Head north?”

“Well you can’t sit here forever, and you got to be out of tears for a bit at least.” she smiled and passed him the waterskin of promised warmth.

“I suppose..” he started.

“Look, I know yer in pain. But you got to find out if Connor be still breathing. If so then we save him and kill as many of those geckos as we can.” her gaze stern.

“And what if..” he began.

“Same plan lad.” she growled.

Karolus laid staring upwards. There were still some patches of memory he couldn’t grasp. But he had the important stuff. Come the morning he would head north to the coast. Then take a ship to Calvaria the City of Dragons. Blood was in his future.