As Bernice sets off on her own towards St. John's erstwhile abode, she offers birdcalls into the stillness. After the third one, a crow answers her. Hey there, shiny lady!
A smile crosses Bernice's round, tanned face, the doctor surprised and pleased. "I'd hoped for an answer, but I didn't think I'd be lucky enough to hear from you specifically, my friend!"
The black bird wings down to land on a tree nearby. I get around, shiny lady. And so do you! Do you want your flying lesson yet?
The woman continues walking along, her terrestrial pace easy to keep up with. "I'd much rather be taking that flying lesson than what I'm actually having to do right now," she sighs. "We're trying to find the beast-woman who lived nearby. The Still Forest tells me she's moved on when she was no longer welcome, but I understand she made a lot of friends amongst the animals while she was here."
Beast-woman ... The crow tilts his head to one side, thinking. He flits from his perch on to another one ahead of her. You mean the changing one? She was nice. Why are you looking for her, shiny lady?
The woman bobs her head, approximating a more avian nod than her usual human one. She grimaces again though, stretching normally full lips into a thin line. "Yes, the changing one. We call her St. John. I'm at disagreement with her, unfortunately. I don't know that the animals, or even you yourself would agree with me. What has she spoken to the creatures about?"
Good stuff. Freedom and safety, territory to roam and plenty of food to eat. No more humans coming 'round and slaughtering. Like the Still Forest, only making it bigger, so there'd be room for all animals in it. Sounded nice. And she helped folks, animals in traps and ones bein' threatened. What did you argue with her about, shiny lady? the crow asks.
Bernice's frown deepens. "We're at odds about how she intends to go about it. For my part, I don't believe slaughtering my forest brothers and sisters and ripping open a hole into the next world will accomplish that. Neither does the Still Forest itself. Did she say how she intends to get all this done?"
Yeah, but I didn't follow that part, the crow admits. It sounded like it'd be hard on the humans, maybe ... oh, I guess that'd be important to you. Being human and all. Sorry, I forgot. He flaps his wings apologetically, and flutters on ahead.
They've reached the area the Still Forest described to Bernice earlier: a large fallen log half-covered in moss, backed against a burm. Draping vines cover a hole in its side, though they are parted now to reveal a dark hollow beyond.
The doctor keeps at her travelling, picking it up a little with a brisk, easy lope. She actually laughs a little. "Sometimes I forget myself, friend crow. Sometimes I'd rather not be with the humans. Sometimes I wish I weren't one, but... I am. I, and the other druids are friends to the earth. We intend to defend the old places, the sacred places, as much as any other." Her laugh fades as the log comes into view, her soft, round face growing serious. "Whatever St. John's intentions, we think she's going to endanger this world, and after she's killed so many of us, we can't stand for it anymore." She cautiously approaches the log's opening, eyeing it warily.
Slate whickers at her encouragingly. There's nothing wrong with being human. Ugh, this place stinks, she adds, her broad muzzle wrinkling as she follows bears her mistress into the clearing and stops beside the fallen log.
Nothing comes out of the log to attack them.
Bernice gratefully strokes Slate's neck. "You have more faith than I do, dear. No wonder you're the more sensible of us. What do you smell?" With her stick, the woman shoves a few more of the dangling vines aside to peer into the hollow.
A funny odor. Not really a wolf. Not really like anything I've smelled before. I don't know what it is, except strong and musky, Slate says. When she pokes her head through the opening, even Bernice can catch a whiff of the odor Slate's talking about. It is pungent and animalistic, although not particularly unpleasant. The hollow log abuts the burm, and the den has dug into the soft earth. It looks fairly cosy for a lair, lined with powdery leaves but otherwise barren.
The doctor's nostrils flare... rather than shy away, she drinks in the scent. Feeble though her human nose may be, she commits the scent to memory, then lets the vines fall back, taking her head out of the hollow. She begins picking her way around the log itself, hunting around. "Not much here to speak of... let me know if either of you spot anything interesting."
Nothing shiny here, shiny lady, the crow says. He flits over to another tree, and worries his beak at the bark for a moment, then falls to the leaves below it. And someone already dragged the carrion away, he adds wistfully.
Bernice rubs her chin. "Carrion? Did she do a lot of hunting for you?"
Oh no. She didn't like hunting at all, the crow says, then scratches at the leaves as if looking for leftovers. Guess something else attacked the animal that died here.
At this, the woman looks a little puzzled. "Didn't like hunting? What did she tell the squirrels and things that the wolves and cougars would be eating?" She stoops down at the spot that seems most likely to have had the carcass, beckoning the Morgan over to see if Slate's nose can pick up anything more. "What was it, anyway? The carcass, I mean."
I don't remember. Maybe they were going to eat humans? the crow suggests. He pecks at the ground. Not sure. Funny smell. Dog, maybe?
Slate takes a breath, and pulls a face. Yuck, blood. She snuffles at the ground at Bernice's request anyway. Her mane prickles at the scent. Kinda doggy, I guess, I -- She jerks her head back suddenly, as if bitten.
Bernice ponders this a moment, then pales a little. "Slate? What.. could it have been that coyote?"
The mare prances, ducking her head. I don't know for sure. My nose isn't so good. But it smells more like that than anything else.
The doctor bites her lip. "Crow brother, are you sure that it was dead?"
Pretty sure. Lotta blood. Ooo, and look. He pecks up a matted bit of ... something. Fur and bone. Anyway, if it had dragged itself off it'd've left a trail. Something took it away to eat.
Bernice bites her lip. "I was angry he bit you, Slate, but I never would have wished that on him." She hunkers low to the ground, and begins prowling the grounds, looking for bent stalks, pawprints, or other things that'd suggest the beginning of a trail to follow. "I'll see if I can't find him... there doesn't seem to be much else here. We'll see what we can turn up, and then rejoin the men. They might have made a good deal of progress by now. May the woods guide me."
There is a curious absence of any kind of trail leading away from the spot the crow indicated. The only prints in the immediate area are of a large deer. No pawprints or signs of another predator, and it would have to be one tremendous bird to have borne away a coyote.
The doctor is left perplexed. "How utterly strange," she murmurs. But the deer tracks.. perhaps the stag! "If I can't follow the one, I'll follow the other."
A little more checking of the area makes it obvious that the deer tracks crisscross this area. One unusually large buck has spent a lot of time in this clearing.
Bernice spends a few minutes trying to piece out which tracks are the most recent, but after a while she has to admit defeat; the overlap is too great and the trail to be sure which of the paths leading away is the latest one.
Townes puts her hands on her hips, a disgusted little snort wafting one of her stray locks of hair out of her face. "I think that's all there is for it, Slate. Let's see if we can't catch up to the lads, shall we?" She looks back up into the tree where her crow friend is. "Thank you for the company, brother crow. Wish me luck... I want to make it back from the Hill so I can take those flying lessons."
On her way to the Hill, Bernice keeps an eye out for signs of her friends' passage. She notices some clear man-made markers indicating the summit adjacent to the more ominious Hill, which even now roils with a kind of palpable power. Assuming that the men went to the indicated summit instead of the Hill after all, she follows the markers. When she reaches the top, she finds Mr. Shaft and Rev. Hale waiting for her. Caliban is nowhere in sight. Hale looks quite relieved to see her and Slate come into view. "Are you all right, Miss Townes? We did not expect you to be gone so long."
A brief flash of light catches the corner of Miss Townes's eye, from behind her on the summit of the adjacent Hill.
"I didn't expect to be gone so long," the doctor admits. "I gave the lair a thorough search. I couldn't find much of great use, but-..." The flash gets Bernice's attention, and she shades her eyes as she glances over at the source.
"Uh-oh," Shaft says, and starts running towards the hill to the east. "Cal's in trouble!"
Hale sprints after Shaft. "We asked Caliban to investigate the Hill," he calls to Townes by way of explanation.
"C'mon, Slate!" urges Townes. "We can get there quickest!"