One of the phrases Priests of Desna often quote is to be free. When the other gods created the world, belowground, and the deep seas it was Desna that created the starry night sky, knowing she would still have time to explore later.
The longer we wandered the city, the more I found myself still desiring freedom- I kept recalling cool autumn winds, the sound of grass stirring and sleeping under a cloudy sky filled with colourful leaves.
It was around the second time I missed a shot with my crossbow that I realised how my little group was responding to me.My words held a weight, my suggestions were orders. It was like I’d done it before- perhaps before the memory loss I was a leader because it came to me far easier than I thought.
Aranka knew the ways through back alleys and alternate routes. Her knowledge combined with Woljif saw us through the city faster than walking through the roads. In all that time the weather refused to change- it rained and rained like the sky was weeping cold tears.
I gave Ember my hat to keep her drier. She laughed and skipped through the puddles. Something beyond the obvious was off about her, more than simply the crow. Watching her sing the popular children’s song for rain as she skipped over a corpse as if it were nothing or seeing her laugh gayly at the reflection of burning fire in puddles only added further.
She kept coming back to me, holding my hand and pulling me long with the group. Her eyes saw something inside of me- they pierced through me- and whatever it was she found, she seemed to be happy with it.
Ember had seven fingers left. I still remember that very well. That burnt, scarred child only had seven fingers and here she was, tugging me along as if I was a slow parent, uninterested in going to the market.
Daeran had a sharp tongue but he wasn’t the problem I would have expected. To the contrary he fought without complaint and his healing spells were a great help- he claimed he was rudimentary but when you are in pain there is nothing rudimentary about lessening it.
Lann kept an eye on me. His eyes kept warily straying around but he also kept his tone light aside from a few stern remarks when Woljif grew irritable and the tiefling nerves began to wear. I couldn’t blame him.
What a wonderfully strange group I had found myself in.
-Yunessa