Smohalla's normally serene face goes ash-white with pain as the ribs grind against each other.

With a shuddering breath, he manages to force out a shaky whisper.

Ellesar, maybe you know something of this type of treatment?

"Sorry, Smohalla. Yeah, let Ellesar have a go. He can't do any worse. Once that's done, maybe I can deal with the pain, some. I've helped sheep and horses quite a bit with some massage techniques I've developed."

Ellesar watches, appalled, as Stogie tries to adjust Smohalla's ribs back into place. Sure enough Stogie begins to stir the innards into a much more gruesome jumble. At least he didn't kill him.

The question comes as a surprise to him. His medical skills are a bit rusty "I'm no field medic, that's for sure. I doubt that there's much more that I can do to injure him though." He casts a quick smile at Stogie. "Make sure he's well supported, I'd like to do this in one try if possible." Ellesar waits for Smohalla to recover from the pain of having his ribs jammed further into his chest. He guides his hands inside the contorted mess, gripping the ribs tightly. He acts with precision and swiftness, snapping the ribs, and resetting them. I hope this works. Sweat beads down his forehead as his thoughts focus on the wound.

Ellesar is being modest. He actually knows quite a bit about what he's doing, more than what Smohalla's medkit knows. Still, he's happy to have it there as a guide. It includes a helpful diagram of the ribs' proper alignment, plus a useful checklist of things to do before setting a broken bone.

Stogie didn't get the bones in the right place, but he did manage to do the hard part of re-breaking them. All Ellesar has to do it guide them home. He works quickly, feeling Smohalla's body tightening, sealing itself back up. He needs to get them back in the right place before they heal at an improper angle again. It's a strange sensation under his hands, the muscle and the bones seemingly moving with a life of their own. Sure enough, once he has them straightened they mend together neatly. It's like the bones wanted to be back in place, they just didn't know how to get there by themselves.

Smohalla stretches, arms thrown wide. Everything seems in order.

His pain and discomfort already forgotten, he smiles at his friends.

Thank you both for your help. I feel whole once more.

His glance falls on the tattered remains of his buckskin jacket.

Frowning slightly, he debates whether to put it back on or not.

He makes up his mind, and slips back in to the jacket, feeling the air on his back through the many rents in the clothing.

He turns to the wolf, ready to begin the journey once more.

"Well that was...different." Ellesar steps back to give Smohalla some room. "I can't say that I've ever handled a body that repairs itself before." He holds his hands up to examine the flecks of meat and bodily fluid now covering them. Wonderful. "I should probably wash this off. We wouldn't want to attract wolves." He shoots a quick smirk at the shifter to ensure there is no ill meaning meant, followed by a short chuckle.

Yes, you should hurry to clean up.

Many predators are driven crazy by the smell of blood.

Who knows what other dangers this forest hides?

Smohalla's straight face stares impassively at Ellesar.

He shoots Stogie a look, willing him to play along.

"Yeah," says Stogie. "I've been hunting in the mountains near here for a good part of my life. Seen some pretty strange things. Though I'll warrant this troll was one of the nastiest. And the fact that it is around here will keep a lot of other nasties away. I'd keep one eye on the sky, though, if I were you. Especially when you're out in the open, washing blood and flesh off your hands. That can be pretty ... exciting for some of the bigger raptors."

The shifter looks back and forth between Stogie and Smohalla. He can see the deception in their auras, but also their light-hearted playfulness. The humor doesn't make much of an impression on him; it's probably too advanced for him, socially. Games, he understands, but his are physical, not verbal. "Come," he says to you, in much the same voice you imagine he'd use on a litter of newborn pups.

He turns and resumes your previous course. He shifts into wolf form and takes the lead, keeping the river on your left and the steep wall of rock to your right. He cranes his neck to catch the position of the sun, which is now creeping out from behind the cloud that covered it. Sunlight falls between the branches, warming Smohalla's back slightly. His jacket is definitely drafty, and the shreds of buckskin are splashed in his blood. It's starting to dry, but it still sticks to his fresh patch of tender pink skin. If there are any predators out there attracted to blood, you'll know who to blame.

You had been walking steadily southwest before your brief interlude, but slowly the river turns. You're now walking almost due south, the great expanse of Mount Rainier almost directly in front of you. You're in a steep canyon, with sharp slopes blanketed in trees looming 700 meters over each side of the river. You keep your eyes peeled, searching the high ridge lines. The good news is that there's fewer directions from which to be ambushed; the bad news is that there are only a couple avenues of escape.

Shortly, the sun bows behind one of the peaks. It's not particularly late in the day, but unless you gain some elevation that will be the last you see of the sun until tomorrow. The wolf starts to walk a little faster.

The day's exertions have definitely taken their toll on Smohalla.

The hike, the excitement of the recent battle, his body's fight to mend itself.

These things have drained him in a way he can only attribute to age.

Moving ever slower as the day wears on, his hobbling steps favor feet sore and swollen from over use.

Sighing, he longs to feel the wind on his face, updrafts lifting beneath his wings ever higher.

He finds it hard to concentrate on staying wary of his surroundings.

Brother Wolf, is it far yet to these Sisters?

Had they only been hiking Ellesar would have been fine. It was the recent adrenaline drain and the sprint through the forest that had his legs sore and his calves tight. As they walked onward he inspected his hands once again. He had made sure to wash the filth off before they had started back on the path but the stench of gore still clung to his skin.

Ellesar increases his pace to keep up with the shifter's renewed intensity. His stomach growls softly, indicating his overdue meal. I doubt I am the only one feeling weary. This has been quite the trek and we have not eaten once since we set off in the morning. He glances at the others briefly, wondering their state of being. His eyes then return to scanning the surroundings, remaining ever vigilant in case of an attack.

"That's it, then. Everybody, we're taking a short rest here. I don't care how close we are. I've got a bit of food left here," The shepherd takes out what rations he has left and hands them to Ellesar. "Take some and pass it on."

Stogie's companions look worn, but Jake seems tireless as ever. Stogie knows better. He's seen these dogs run till they drop dead. "Jake. Down. Stay." Jake complies instantly.

"Ellesar, you sit there. Smohalla, over here. I'll do what I can to remove some of the kinks." He kneels before Smohalla and takes a sore foot in his hands and begins to massage it, drawing on mana around him to help realign bones and tendons, and reduce swelling. He does the same for the other foot.

After five or ten minutes of this, he moves to Ellesar. His legs also need work, and Stogie kneads calves and ankles for him, too. After a few minutes, he stands. "Well, that will have to do for now. Things are better, but we don't have all night to get all the kinks out."

He looks over at the wolves. "I've worked with dogs and other creatures as well. If any of your pack has pains, I can give some help."

The shifter's paw freezes in midair when Stogie speaks. He turns to look back at the group. His aura doesn't convey any sense of urgency or concern. He sees the fatigue in the bipeds and sits. He doesn't shift right away. You realize that you've noticed a mild sense of annoyance in his aura whenever he has to shift. It seems pretty clear which form he prefers, which would explain why he lives where he does.

He watches Stogie's technique with interest, observing how the mana collects around his hands, manipulating the physical forms under his grip. After a few minutes he gets up and goes to the river for a drink. He comes back to watch the process with Ellesar, wondering if it will be any different with the Unawakened elf.

The wolf seems to cock an eyebrow at Stogie's offer. He doesn't look tired; in fact, his aura looks well rested. As far as you know, this is a casual day for him. He gives a shallow sigh before shifting into human form.

"We will be to the Sisters by dusk," he says, although when exactly it is dusk when you're walking in a shady canyon is open for debate. "It would be best not to arrive any later."

Cool relief washes over Smohalla as Stogie works his magic.

His aching feet and muscles feel much refreshed.

Nodding at Stogie appreciately, he stands and stretches.

He doesn't feel hungry like the others seem to, so he too goes to the river for a drink.

He returns with a large leaf filled with water and offers it to Jake.

The sudden change outburst from Stogie causes Ellesar to stop abruptly. He can be quite demanding when he sets his mind to something. He takes the food from the human, saving some for himself and handing the rest to Smohalla. He slides his backpack off, placing it up against the spot that Stogie had pointed for him to sit. Reaching inside he says to the others, "I have rations of my own. If you would like we can share mine now and be quite sustained for facing the sisters. We could also save them for later in case something unexpected comes up."

Ellesar is surprised by the leg massage, considering that he's never had anyone touching his feet before. He gladly welcomes the stress relief in his muscles and the revitalized feeling washing over his legs. Something new everyday.

Following the break, the shifter leads you deeper into the canyon. The cliffs around you are steep, the escape routes are limited. The location is an ambusher's delight, especially for a witch that only needs to see you to fry you in a twinkle of her eye. The only thing providing you comfort is that the tree cover is still heavy around the trail, minimizing your direct exposure. The fact that the shifter's aura doesn't betray any sense of imminent danger helps set you at ease a bit, but perhaps he doesn't share your concern about things leaping out of the treetops.

The slope of the trail has been gentle until now. You've probably gained 200-300 meters over the last few kilometers, nothing too drastic. In front of you, the climb becomes more steady. Your heart rate increases and the river to your left starts to flow faster down the steadier decline. Based on the map loaded on Stogie's and Ellesar's commlinks, you're guessing that you're getting close to the head of the river valley. Another hour at most, you think. In the meantime, the sun has descended further behind the mountains. The light beneath the trees grows dimmer as a cool breeze picks up the scent of fresh water from the river.

Smohalla walks along with the others, content in the silence.

The cool breeze is a welcome visitor as it swirls around the travellers.

Together the scents and sounds of the forest are soothing and musical.

Smohalla's mind wanders.

He sees sunlight, old sunlight at this time of day, playing over the trees.

The leaves seem set afire with the dappling of color provided by the light and shadow.

He wonders at the age of the wolf shifter.

The shifter seemed fairly young for one of his kind, still uncomfortable with what he had become.

He thinks about how he will mend his jacket.

Jake enjoys the trail, encountering myriad smells that -have- to be investigated, and charging into the river for a drink now and then. Stogie for the umpteenth time wishes he had a fraction of that boundless energy. But he's been walking all his life, and the climb is no more than an inconvenience for him.

"Looks like daylight is fading fast. I hope the ladies enjoy an evening's company."

The renewed vigor in Ellesar from the break is quite evident. His step has seemingly returned to its springy nature once more. He seems quite content to be hiking as if he belongs amongst the woodlands, despite his outlandishly outstanding features of course. "It matters little whether or not they actually want evening guests. If this wolf-man-thing is kind enough to take us to them then I for one shall comply. We have a job to do after all."

Smohalla tries not to think about how quickly he could have made this trip.

Instead he tries to focus on the moment of the here, the now.

The here of the forest, the mountains, the trail.

The now of his journey, his friends, his purpose.

He looks to the surrounding environment for signs of anything amiss.

Smohalla searches the surrounding area but doesn't find anything out of place, except himself, panting and perspiring on the forest floor instead of coasting on thermal currents high above. Stogie's foot rub eased his sores but the aches are rapidly reasserting themselves. A walking stick helps keep some pressure off his poor heels but what he'd really like to do is go stick his feet in the cold river for a few minutes.

The sound of it reaches you first: a steady roar of water falling from a height, splashing onto rocks. There's a mist in the air that you can feel even before you reach the crest of the hill to see it yourself. There it is: a modest waterfall and a cool, round pool, feeding the river that's accompanied you all these long hours. It's a tranquil moment. The mana here feels fresh and clean, as if the falling water washed it against the smooth pebbles and stones of the riverbed.

The shifter circles the pool. It's only a hundred meters across, at most. You look up to see the waterfall bouncing down the cliff at the end of the valley. The shifter seems to be taking you toward a flat patch of trees on the far side. You wonder if the Sisters are there. Not an entirely logical position, Ellesar thinks to himself. Why would the Sisters trap themselves in a dead-end? Unless, of course, they're trapping us instead. The easiest way out would certainly be the way you came in, but it might be possible to scramble up one of these steep, wooded slopes if you used your hands to steady yourself with tree branches and vines.

The trackers on the team see signs of evidence of people passing along here. There are small twigs and branches broken on the low plants, plus the occasional displacement of dirt or mud that looks more like a footprint than a pawprint. In fact, one of those footprints looks to be quite large, not very dainty or ladylike. Jake starts to pick up a scent when Stogie's enhanced senses catch a drift of woodsmoke in the air. He strains, trying to hear the crackle of a fire. He finally picks it up, more or less directly ahead. The shifter continues the way forward. His aura is relaxed, the way people look when the come home.

The feeling of the astral world starts to change. It still feels pure, but there's a tenseness to it. The mana feels compressed, almost like a coil. There's extra energy stored here. It feels full and rich, but also explosive. Smohalla starts to feel a little giddy at the excess of it.

Smohalla reaches out to the mana, curious.

But cautiously, very cautiously.

He draws some of the mana to himself to examine.

"Smells and sounds like a fire ahead, and the mana here is particularly charged. Should be arriving soon, I suspect." Stogie takes a good long astral look at the aura of this place. It may be useful to recognize it elsewhere.

Ellesar continues along behind the shifter, eyes wandering from the bank of the pool to the far end. He walks in front of us and seems at peace. But this could easily turn against us if the sisters come from behind to flank us. Let us hope it does not come to that. As they make their way further along the path he keeps a keen eye out for strategic positions in case they are ambushed.

Stogie and Smohalla breathe deeply, focusing their senses on the astral, trying to figure out the nature of the change. It's hard to put a finger on it. The difference doesn't seem unnatural, but there's no denying that the mana is enhanced somehow. There's a sweet tinge to it, almost like the mana has fermented slightly. It's indulgent and powerful, but feels flammable too. Smohalla feels like he could produce some powerful magic here, as long as it didn't blow up in his face. Stogie feels the extra mana flowing through his veins too. It swells inside him, making his muscles tense. There's more mana than his body knows what to do with.

What could have made it this way? Smohalla - through his knowledge of magical theory and, especially, the astral world - knows that powerful magicians can often shape the mana around themselves, either intentionally through powerful metamagics or passively over the course of time, simply by conducting many magic rituals in the same place. The source of the addtional mana here is not clear to him. Is it due to the Sisters and their activities here, or are the Sisters here to take advantage of a naturally occuring concentration of mana? The party is on the north slope of Mt. Rainier now, no more than ten or eleven clicks from what remains of the summit. The area has been powerfully magical for over fifty years, ever since the mountain detonated at the behest of Daniel Howling-Coyote and the Great Ghost Dance.

Ellesar scans his surroundings for routes of escape. There are plenty of trees for cover, as well as ditches to act as improvised foxholes. A less traditional but more creative escape might involve the lake and the river itself. Being a bit of an athlete, Ellesar figures that he could dive under the surface to stay hidden, emerging only for quick breaths while swimming underwater toward the outlet. Swimming down the river would be dangerous, but with the current it might actually be faster than running. Of course, he'd be damnably cold by the time he pulled himself out of the water, which wouldn't make a frosty night in the mountains any easier, but he's a survivalist. If it came down to it, he could strip naked, walk away from his gear, and still emerge from the forest a day or two later relatively unharmed. But, that said, he'd rather not.

The smell of wood smoke grows stronger. Jake sees the fire first and alerts Stogie. There are two women seated behind the fire, a wild-looking ork and a massive troll. Their clothing looks primitive. The ork wears a skirt that looks like it was woven out of cedar. The troll has a bear pelt over her shoulders. It's a testament to her size that the bearskin barely wraps around her. Their hair is unruly and untamed. There are drawings on their faces, but it's not immediately clear if it's mud or paint or tattoos. They see the shifter and stand.

Stogie calls to Jake through their mental connection, Stay close boy. Be alert.

Smohalla approaches the fire and stops before it.

He nods to both women and introduces himself.

Greetings. I am Smohalla, shaman to the Shahptian Wanapum people.

My companions and I have travelled far.

May we share your fire?

Ellesar watches those surrounding the fire intently, focusing mainly on the troll. The last encounter they had had with a troll had not gone pleasantly and he had no intention of repeating it. He stood, waiting for the response to Smohalla's cheery greeting.

The ork and the troll glower at you silently, radiating suspicion and mistrust. Their clenched tusks and frowning brows reflect their displeasure at your presence. Their vision switches to the astral to evaluate you and the threat you may or may not present.

Stogie joins the astral staredown. Scaning the area while Smohalla holds their attention, he notes a distinct lack of astral security. There are no spirits of any sort, not even watchers. Are they that inexperienced, or that confident in their own capabilities? The women themselves are obviously magicians, but their Talent appears weak and undeveloped. But initiates have been known to cloak their auras, concealing their true Power, appearing less than they really are or even completely mundane. But does that mean that the thick mana of this place is meant to cover the witches' deficiencies, or does it help to mask their true gifts?

The wolf looks back and forth between you and the women. He searches them for any sign of welcome toward your presence, but doesn't find it. His mood darkens. He's not overtly hostile but it's clear which side he will take if there is a confrontation.

The silence grows painful as the seconds tick by. A cool breeze picks up, shifting the dry pine needles around your feet. The rustling leaves are the only sound to fill the awkward gap as time stretches. Someone swallows hard. 

The ork loosens her jaw to open her mouth slightly. Smohalla searches her face for any intention to attack. He scans her aura, looking for telltale concentrations of mana that precede magic. But Smohalla has to wonder, can he even defend against a hostile spell in a place so thick with mana? The slightest spark could engulf you all in an irresistable conflagaration.

Smohalla prepares a defense, jamming the mana around him. He then realizes his tactical error: in order to make his greeting, he has stepped in front of his friends, leaving them undefended behind him. His aura betrays his concern. He holds his breath, hoping his anxiety won't come across as a weakness, prompting the women to strike pre-emptively.

The ork inhales slowly with an sibilant hiss. The troll leans forward, and the wolf turns your way. A shout rings out, a female voice full of anger.

Smohalla tries to keep calm, to keep his aura from showing fear.

He breathes slowly, controlling each intake of air, keeping it in his chest for a moment.

His piercing eyes stare back at the ork and the troll, matching their glowers with simple regard.

When the shout rings out, he does not take his gaze from the two women.

He suspects a third will be joining them soon.

This is going to shit real fast. Stogie slings his weapon and steps off to the left, so the locals can see him around Smohalla, and vice versa.

Jake senses Stogie's worry and scuttles off to the right, by some trees. This is work for the Alpha. Let him take care of staring down the strangers. And from here he can dart in or out, as needed.

"We come to speak with you, not to threaten you. There is trouble brewing for all of us. Conflict among us will only bring it faster." He is open, hands away from his gun. He doesn't trust the mana here, and refrains from boosting himself.

Jake, hold back. Do not borrow my speed. Wait.

The air seems as thick as the sap from the nearby trees. Ellesar keeps most of his attention on the shifter, being mindful to glance at the others now and again. He had yet to see any reason to truly trust the wolf hybrid and would rather not have this scuffle turn sour. The odds may be in either groups' favor but it is not something I would push to find out. He steps off to the right, mirroring Stogie to create a rough triangle.

The ork inhales slowly with an sibilant hiss. The troll leans forward, and the wolf turns your way. A shout rings out, a female voice full of anger:

"Selene! Hester! Where are your manners!"

All heads turn to your right to see the source of the voice, a diminutive woman wearing a scowl. She frowns at the other two women as she shuffles toward you carrying a cast iron tea kettle with both hands. She looks much different from the other two. For starters, she's a fraction of their size: either a thin dwarf or a short human. Her hair is greying, parted neatly down the middle and pulled into a tight bun behind her head. Her clothing is decidedly less primitive too. She wears a old-fashioned red dress that covers her feet, plus a white lace shawl over her shoulders. The person she most reminds you of it "Aunt Sara," the grandmotherly trideo idol of millions of fans of Baking with Aunt Sara.

She bustles forward, tutting all the way. "We have guests," she hisses to the other two, stressing the last word for emphasis. The tea kettle floats out of her hand magically and positions itself over the fire. On the astral, the spell confirms what you already knew from her aura. She's a magician, either more powerful than the other two ladies, or maybe just less concealed. Smohalla judges her to be roughly his equal. Her mood looks embarrassed.

Once the tea kettle is settled, she turns to the group and smiles kindly. She rushes forward and, before he can react, seizes Smohalla's hand, clutching it between her two palms. She looks up at him from her low height and beams. "Smohalla, Sky-Father. You have no idea what an honor this is for me. I've wanted to meet you for such a very long time, I just never had the courage to introduce myself. You've inspired me, you really have. You are very truly welcome here." She holds his gaze unblinkingly, looking like a star-struck fan. Her aura radiates admiration and awe.

She drops his hand and steps up to Stogie in a flash, grabbing his hand and shaking it vigorously. Her skin is smooth and pleasantly warm. "Welcome," she says sincerely, before repeating the process with Ellesar. She finds Jake and scratches his head lovingly, petting his back as she whispers sweet nothings in his ear. She smells nice and generally gives little indication that she's living in the forest.

"Ah!" she cries, spying the wolf. "K'wa'iti!" She zips forward, her arms spread wide. She embraces the shifter, who, even while sitting down in wolf form, is about as tall as she is. She throws her arms around his shoulders and hugs him closely, then scratches his ears and down his back much as she did for Jake. The shifter sits up straight, patiently enduring the petting with as much dignity as possible while secretly enjoying it.

The short woman lets go of the wolf and spins around with a start. "But where are my manners?" she gasps, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead. "I admonish my friends for their lack of courtesy and yet I completely neglect to introduce myself!" she laughs self-consciously. "My name is Eleanor," she says, clasping her hands in front of her. "My friends call me Ellie, and I would encourage you to do the same. Any friends of Smohalla's are friends of mine. This is such a wonderful surprise! Please, come sit by the fire with us. The tea will be ready shortly. I hope everyone likes peppermint!"

Smohalla lowers his head at the praise, embarrassed slightly.

He says in Salish:

Greetings to you, Ellie. We accept your hospitality gladly and with much thanks.

Smohalla seats himself by the fire, nodding to the other two women with respect as he sits.

He tries to catch his companions' eyes to encourage them to do the same.

His aura must be flooding with relief, but Stogie doesn't care. For now, there seems to be little chance of hostility. Nevertheless, things could turn in a moment. Better be extra cautious with these ladies.

He whistles come and Jake rushes to him, runs a circle around him and takes his place on Stogie's left. His tail wags and he looks up at Stogie, then Ellie. His head drops just a smidgen as he glances at the other two women. Stogie moves to the fire and sits. Jake follows. Stogie looks over at Smohalla and raises an eyebrow, head pulled back just a bit.

"Peppermint! I love it. I haven't had any in years!"

The ork and the troll stand down. Their muscles relax as the tension eases. They return to their seats. You see now that there are a few tree stumps around the fire between which the women have placed large tree limbs to sit on. The seats bow under the weight of Hester and Selene.

Eleanor turns around and sees that there aren't enough seats for her guests. "Tsk, tsk, this will never do," she clucks under her breath before reaching her hand out. The mana concentrates in her aura instantaneously before the spell is released. She summons wood out of the forest and mentally assembles it into makeshift seating for the three new arrivals. She claps her hands once to celebrate her success and then moves to take her position. She sits on a tall, flat rock in front of the ork and troll, crossing her legs primly. She produces a set of thin-rimmed bifocals from somewhere in the folds of her dress and sets them gently on the bridge of her nose.

The troll barks a laugh when she hears Smohalla speak in Salish. The ork takes her cue to begin laughing too before Ellie spins around and silences them with a stern glare. She turns back to the group primly, sweeping the faux pax aside.

The top of the tea kettle begins to rattle and steam pours forth from the spout. Eleanor summons the kettle toward her, being careful not to touch it as it hovers in front of her. She mentally lifts the lid off and gingerly places a small sachet of leaves inside. The steam from the pot brings the scent to Stogie: peppermint, sure enough. Eleanor replaces the lid to allow the tea to steep. The pot floats next to her, cooling slowly in the afternoon air.

"May I interest you in anything with your tea?" she asks, looking over the top of her glasses. "A sweet biscuit? Dried berries? I'm sure there is some smoked salmon around her somewhere for our canine friends. Hmm? A little something to hold you over until supper?"

Ellesar joins the group around the fire, placing his pack just behind where he plans on sitting. He waits for the others to sit and then cautiously takes a seat next to Jake on one of the makeshift benches. He rests his rifle against his bag with the muzzle pointed towards the sky. The old one seems friendly enough. She appears to be the leader of the others, or is at least greatly respected by her. She may turn out to be quite dangerous. Best we not displease her for the time being.

Keeping his attention mainly on the floating pot Ellesar speaks, "A biscuit would be warmly welcomed, many thanks." Despite having eaten the rations earlier his stomach was growling at the mention of a freshly cooked meal. "It was not a short trek to this place." I wonder if these are the three witches that we seek or if it is just the one and the others are not yet among us. Only time will tell....

Smohalla smiles at Ellesar's comment.

No, it was not a short trek.

Nor one free of danger.

"Let's see now, hmm," Eleanor says to herself, touching the tip of her finger to her lips. She turns and looks to a small cache of supplies a short distance away in the woods. She holds out her hand, summoning a small parcel out of a gunny sack. It looks like hemp cloth folded into a packet. She sets it down to her side. A set of cups flies to her next. Instead of pouring out the tea into each cup one-by-one, she mentally removes the red-hot lid from the kettle and magically lifts the tea out. It floats above the kettle in one giant golden-orange fluid drop. It then splits into six divisions, each globule going a separate direction to find its tea cup. Eleanor concentrates firmly on the process, her brow knit as she locks onto her targets and directs their movements.

There are saucers for each cup. Eleanor unfolds the packet she had summoned to reveal delicate cookies. She places one on each saucer before sending the saucers and mugs to each person around the fire. The cup floats in front of you until you take it, at which point the weight shifts lightly into your hand as she drops the spell. The cookies appear to be shortbread sandwich cookies, with what looks like raspberry jam joining the two halves. They're in the shape of little starbursts, with multiple points radiating from the center, none of which appear to be broken. There is a light dusting of powdered sugar on top.

Eleanor looks very pleased. "Just one now. We mustn't ruin our appetites for dinner!"

The ork and troll struggle with their cups and saucers, doing their best not to squeeze them into paste. To them, the ceramic of the teaware might as well be made of eggshell. The cups are comically small in their hands, and their fingers have no hope of slipping through the handles of the cups. They scowl at the cookies, the tiny sweet being no equal to the size of the women.

"But what is this about a long trek?" Eleanor asks, oblivious to the silent grumbling behind her. "Certainly you did not walk the whole way!" she laughs to herself, her merriment falling off as she sees the collective look on your faces and realizes that you're being serious. "But Sky-Father," she asks, "why did you not simply fly? Surely you must have summoned spirits to hasten your journey at least? Creatures of wind and wood to straighten the path and speed your steps?" She looks at the group with a puzzled expression. "No?"

Stogie shakes his head. "No. Sky Father chose to accompany the rest of us on the ground. Just as well, considering the encounter we had with a poor troll infected with the virus. The trip was arduous, but the tea and cookie make it worth the effort. Thank you."

Smohalla takes the offered cup of tea but politely waves away the cookies.

We had our friend Brother Wolf as our guide, and so I did not fly.

We had spirits, our allies, aiding our travels, but they were lost.

We arrive here now, at the exact time ordained by the Great Spirit.

No sooner, no later.

The elf relaxes a bit more as the conversation carries on. He runs a course hand through his blonde hair while he sips at the tea. All this talk of spirits 'n such isn't getting us any closer to finding out about these sisters. Ah well, perhaps it will get the other two to loosen up.

Eleanor doesn't look completely satisfied by Smohalla's answer, but nor does it bother her much. She turns her attention to Stogie. "You are welcome, young man," she says earnestly. "I am sorry to hear that you had a difficult journey. We are flattered that you went to such trouble to find us. Aren't we, ladies?" She turns to look over her shoulder at Selene and Hester. Either they're not flattered or they're hiding it particularly well. They sit there, stone-faced, staring at you blankly while letting Eleanor do the talking. They don't give any indication of contributing to the conversation.

Ellie turns back and smiles and Smohalla shyly. "Sky-Father, will you do me the honor of introducing your handsome young friends?" She blows on her tea before taking a light sip.

I will, and gladly.

Smohalla indicates his three companions.

Here is an old friend Stogie, and my other friend, Jake.

Here is a new friend, Ellesar.

I will say no more, their stories are theirs to tell.

Smohalla looks meaningfully at Ellie.

And we are very interested to hear your stories, as well.

"I am pleased to make your acquaintance. Folks living out in the woods bring back some good memories.

"Jake and I once had a farm with some sheep and some cattle, and a few more of Jake's kin. A good life, as lives go these days. Lost it all to a corporation that had mineral rights and the money to buy bullies. Now I work freelance, preferring to take jobs that hurt organizations like the one that evicted me and killed my dogs. Anything that keeps bullies and thugs off good people's backs is a good day's work, as far as I'm concerned. One thing I've learned though, is that one person's criminal is another one's freedom fighter. So I like to hear everyone's story and judge for myself."

Idle chatter not being his strongsuit, Ellesar begins tapping his foot against the large branch he is sitting on. His mind begins to wander as he listens to Stogie's story. The other two women seem about as joyful towards these pleasantries as I am. Must we really go through all this? I don't see how it helps us with anything. Not to mention how sketchy it is that this woman seems to know our magically inclined friend....

He casts a quick glance towards Smohalla, not spending much time on him before his gaze returns to the ork and troll. He waits for Stogie to finish before he begins his own tale. "Not much to say about myself. I've been abandoned by my own kind and I lost my family to some megacorp trying to cover their own asses. Now I'm just trying to find out who it was that killed 'em." Ellesar's face slowly transitions to a very solemn look. "But to do that I need information and I need money. Unfortunately neither of those is easy to come by...." His voice gets more and more quite, eventually trailing off.

Ellie looks pleased at the introductions. "Why, kindred spirits!" she declares with evident pleasure as you finish telling your stories. The ork and the troll seem to ease slightly. It would be a stretch to call them welcoming, but they no longer glower. They seem to be listening a little more closely now than they were before.

Ellie turns to Stogie. "Stogie, I am sorry that I did not know you by sight. I am familiar with some of the work you did with TerraFirst. That job you did at the Holden Mine was quite spectacular! I must applaud your efforts. Indeed, I was a bit jealous not to be there myself." You can the ork nodding ever-so-slightly behind her. "I am very sorry about your loss," Ellie continues. "We know your pain well." She looks back at Selene and Hester. They don't agree openly, but neither do they object to being included in the statement.

She turns to Ellesar. "What a tragedy!" she says earnestly, holding a hand over her heart. "It is the oldest news in the world, yet it is every day's news," she says sadly, shaking her head with pity. Her face falls at the thought of it all.

"Is that why you have come today?" she asks, looking around at the group. "Do you need money, information, or resources for your various endeavors? Have you come to propose an alliance?" Her voice brightens at the prospect. Her tone and her aura are hopeful.

Smohalla replies slowly, cautiously.

We come to seek wisdom.

The wind carries the name of those called the Three Sisters.

Many tales have reached our ears.

We would like to hear more.

A small smirk crosses the elf's lips. Finally getting down to business. He points a thumb in Smohalla's direction. "It's as he says. We're just here for any information we can find on these sisters. Even better if we could talk to them ourselves."

"Come now, don't be coy!" Ellie insists with a coquettish laugh. "I didn't finagle one of your friends to invite myself over to your house and then pretend to not to know who you were. You know where you are and to whom you speak. We have been known as The Sisters from time to time, or did you not see the family resemblance?" Her eyes flash with merriment. She glances back to Selene and Hester. Their tusks are exposed and you hear a deep rumble, which you take for laughter.

Ellie crosses her legs, folding her hands over her knee. "And while there are tea and cookies, you hardly seem to be the type of men who are interested in story time around a campfire. One doesn't walk twenty kilometers through the forest in November simply to sit around a campfire and discuss pleasantries. No, you are men of action, friends with a common purpose who share our cause. You have come to put forward an idea for consideration. Come, we must have it. We are atwitter with curiosity!" She rocks back and smiles, waiting expectantly to hear what you have to say.