in tenebris est veritas.
It is true that the wild woman does not have much experience in idle conversation; their otherwise unwavering patience runs thin for wasted words. Neither do they consider this particular meeting opportune or fated, though perhaps in hindsight it might seem so. For now they are simply focused on solving the problems ahead, and ensuring the forest is not damaged in the process.
“I am called Chaele,” they answer, assuming the woman’s name would be afforded in return without their needing to ask for it. Talk of time and money give them pause, a passing beat that shapes their voice into a tone of caution. “Should I be worried about anyone in pursuit of you?”
The little retreat does not go unnoticed, but the shaman cannot honor the space that is made between them. They reach into their pack, bulky and tattered with years of use, and retrieve a small ration. It seems to be made of various seeds sealed together with a hardened sap, with the occasional maggot wedged in for protein. They lean toward her, a long arm outstretched in offering. “Eat this.” The gift is withdrawn somewhat as they notice the mud on her hands, but then offered again. There is water to wash in, should she choose to, but Chaele is hardly one to object to a little dirt.
Then they sit back, finding a root to sit on as they indulge in a bite of a similar ration. It is used to gesture to a nearby hanging branch as they suggest, “Hang your shirt there to dry. I will make the leather for your boots from the next beast who visits the water side.”
“I am called Chaele,” they answer, assuming the woman’s name would be afforded in return without their needing to ask for it. Talk of time and money give them pause, a passing beat that shapes their voice into a tone of caution. “Should I be worried about anyone in pursuit of you?”
The little retreat does not go unnoticed, but the shaman cannot honor the space that is made between them. They reach into their pack, bulky and tattered with years of use, and retrieve a small ration. It seems to be made of various seeds sealed together with a hardened sap, with the occasional maggot wedged in for protein. They lean toward her, a long arm outstretched in offering. “Eat this.” The gift is withdrawn somewhat as they notice the mud on her hands, but then offered again. There is water to wash in, should she choose to, but Chaele is hardly one to object to a little dirt.
Then they sit back, finding a root to sit on as they indulge in a bite of a similar ration. It is used to gesture to a nearby hanging branch as they suggest, “Hang your shirt there to dry. I will make the leather for your boots from the next beast who visits the water side.”
