(SE) Of Gods and Mushrooms

I R I S She watched with morbid curiosity as the predator charged, growing in size as feathers stood on edge, large eyes hungrily fixed on the slippery creature. She didn't envy the weasel, but she didn't pity it. In fact, she felt a pang of disappointment as it slithered off into the grass. Iris approached her effects, giving her bag another cautionary kick before crouching down and digging into it. It was time to take stock of the damage. It became clear right away that the pest had gotten into her food. She sighed and picked out bits of bread and dried meat, throwing them out with her uninjured hand as beads of blood streamed down the other. As she did, her fingers brushed over smooth glass, evoking a sigh of relief as she pulled out a bottle, undamaged. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the eagle transform back into a broad-shouldered figure. He spoke of a reward. Of course. But then, the bird man once again subverted a cynic's expectations. She used the pause in his speech to look at him and raise an eyebrow expectantly, amused by his choice. Iris suspected he didn't look inside the bag after all. Either that or his chivalry was working very hard against his personal interest. When he spoke up again, she proceeded to dig around her bag, finding her half-empty waterskin and almost emptying it out on her hand before taking a drink. She snickered at his comment about his impromptu nickname, and pulled out another bottle. The two vessels of thick dark glass and their contents amounted for most of her luggage's weight. Uncorking one, she poured it over her hand with a stifled hiss, all the while listening to Henry's rendition of a rather plain and boring history. Iris shuffled her clothes about, thinking that she couldn't have forgotten to pack bandages. As she did, she came upon a black pouch that made clicking sounds when she rolled it between her fingers. She found no bandages. Her knife was out again, tearing one of her shirts at the hem, pausing to look up at the man as if expecting him to continue. It appeared that was all there was to it. Grabbing one end of the fabric, she spun in around her hand, looking the farmer up and down before responding. "I'm Siri." Satisfied with her improvised bandage, she proceeded to tie it with a rather shabby looking knot, her hand's movement clumsy and restricted. "I come from Torchline, most recently." No other place in Caido had quite enough sunshine to account for her tan. "I'm a traveler." She didn't elaborate further, but it was clear looking at her that Iris didn't do any heavy lifting or spend many nights under the open sky. Her hands weren't calloused, apart from the fingers of her left hand used to draw her bow, her skin was smooth dark honey, and she didn't carry any visible scars. She hastily put her pack back together, save for the bottle she opened. She took a swig before offering it to Henry and slinging the bag over her shoulder. "Lead the way."