Phillips Harbour.
Thursday, October 29. Evening.
After their -- escape? -- from the watching Masters, the Players and Companions are not in a great hurry to light the Spirit Lamp again, or continue Shaft's experiments. Dr. Townes and Mr. Shaft brief Mr. Girard and his Companion on what they learned about the nature of the Game and the spirit world from the Unicorn. The latter two decide they'd like to speak to the Unicorn themselves.
For her part, Bernice has left for the Still Forest. Slate bears her in silence until they are out of town, and the dark of nature swallows them on a road dimly lit by a gibbous moon. Then she speaks. Are you going to be all right, Bernice?
Bernice nods a little numbly, then speaks up when she remembers her friend probably can't see the gesture so easily. "Mm... I think so, dear. I'm at my wit's end right now... magic and spirits and gods and monsters. More and more, I'm finding I can face them, but thinking up what to do, I'm at a loss. It's like being a child again, having to ask everybody and cling to skirts." She leans down to pat Slate's neck. "And I've never been good with people. Riding like this, with just you and me, it's a rare comfort. It feels like an indulgence, with how little time we have left, but I don't suppose it's a waste."
Slate bobs her head, and stretches her legs into a loping canter, just because she can. It's important too! You can't fight if you forget what you're fighting for. And I can face monsters if you can, Bernice. It's less scary now then it was during that horrible Hunt a month ago. Her flanks shiver.
The vet leans down lower over her steed's back as the wind begins to pick up with their speed, blowing wisps of her hair out of her face. "Has it only been a month?" she marvels. "So much can change in such a short time. The world, and us." Another fond pat, the doctor running her fingers through Slate's mane. "I can face them... we -have- faced them! I promised we'd see this through, and we will." Bernice looks up into the branches of the trees, the forest close about them. "And I made another promise, didn't I? Little did I know just how I'd be protecting this wood. I think they need to know what's happening."
As they pass from ordinary woods into the Still Forest, Bernice senses an unease and agitation in the air. It is always quiet here, but tonight it is deathlike, with nothing stirring but the restless, silent wind. Before they even reach the great oak, the voice (a voice?) of the Still Forest speaks to them, in its northern tones. What news, staff-bearer?
The unease weighs on Bernice, concern making her thread her fingers nervously into Slate's mane again, but it's not entirely unexpected. She lifts her face up to look into the dark of the canopy, though she doesn't need to to answer. "We've learned much since we left you last, respected elders. We met the oldest of your kind, who has explained much of the nature of our plight, and it's one we all share."
Speak, world-changer. We listen, the north wind answers.
Bernice gives Slate a slight squeeze with her legs to coax the mare to a slower pace so she can speak more easily... there's much to say. "The one we know as Kari, the unicorn..." she begins. Even at a slower pace, horse and rider still cover considerable ground by the time the story is over. "...and now the Banefire approaches. We've seen the faces two Masters presented to us, and it's enough to convince me that they mean us no good. The Game is ending in a scant few days, and almost all the Players know now exactly what the stakes are, and now they don't Play against each other, they Play against the Masters. I promised to defend you, and so I thought you should know what is happening."
The stillness in the forest deepens and stretches as she tells her story. Thank you, the north wind tells her. We understand.
We do not understand, the south wind whispers. Why do you not Close? Why do you risk the enslavement of the world? Even the unicorn bids you Close.
The doctor fidgets in the saddle. How best to explain this? "I have asked that the option to Close not be ruled out if we do not have any feasible means to fight by the Banefire. I will try to do so if it comes down to that. Many are unbending, so my chances in that event are slim." She sighs, and rubs her forehead. "Still, the alternative is slow death. You have always pointed out that in any adversity, you remain. This is one chance that you will remain. Even the Hill would have run out of victims some day."
The wind encircles them, lifting Bernice's hair and Slate's mane. We understand, the forest tells her.
You must win, the north wind says. Use the staff. Use every means at your disposal. Even St. John and her stag, or what remains of them.
Bernice nods resolutely, her auburn crown fluttering with the wind's caress. "We'll do our best. Alorn, the Stag, was a Master himself, he came with Kari. He does not share St. John's madness, maybe he can yet control her and help us. Any strength you can lend, or anyone you can send our way, will help tip the scales."
We cannot leave the Forest, the south wind says.
As things are, the north says; a clarification, or contradiction.
We cannot leave the Forest, the great oak reinforces.
Townes holds her hands up. "Oh no, I don't think you should leave the forest. Advice, or allies you can point us to... anything can help. Have you ever seen anyone make their spirit stronger, maybe?" Semi-consciously, Bernice nudges her steed to a more northerly path, curious now at who this voice has belonged to.
There is strength in unity, the north wind says.
When you can find it, the south adds.
Or forge it, says the great oak. Make what accord you can, and hold fast to it.
"Then united we'll stand," agrees Bernice.
Rowan should get that, maybe. O_o