Back at the wagons I find the bandages where I had left them. The thief had not appeared to have visited while I was gone. I wince as a new wave of pain surges through my arm as I unwrap the bandages. Applying the bandages was aggravating, just the slightest touch was enough to trigger new waves of agony. When I finished the pain returned to acceptable levels as long as I avoided moving my left arm. As for dinner I wrap its tail off the back of the caisson, and in the absence of a knife I use its own claw to cut open the chest cavity. I remove the gore and throw it away.

When I finished the days events were finally able to catch up with me. I sit down on the caisson as weariness sets in. Only too late did I realize just how much trouble I was in.

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The Black Forest named so because of how dark and quiet it is. Because of its dense canopy traditional methods of navigation with the sun and stars are impractical. And with the scale of the wilderness, a dedicated diviner or seer is an absolute must. This fact alone aggravated Baran.

Diviners, like all spell casters powerful and seasoned enough to gain recognition in a specific magical lore, were demanding subordinates. Their status and market value put their services well out of reach of an orphan like himself. Well usually that is.

As a youth he had gotten himself on an expedition through this forest to catch new "merchandise" from the Earl of Pavlo. The trip started off poorly for his group, as heavy rains had destroyed much of their supplies. It was a slog but he endured.

The nature of the business was known, but the reality was obscured by lustful dreams and talk of great wealth. The first raid was a brutal affair. Despite being outnumbered Baran and his group surrounded a village in the dead of night, and at the signal from the boss they attacked. The villagers were rounded up and the "most expensive" villagers were tied in a line (very young boys, and older pretty girls). Baran as an orphan growing up in the slums was no stranger to the brutality, and callous disregard of ordinary people and gangs alike. What shocked him was the efficiency of it all. Supplies were taken, tears were shed, and more than a little blood as well, but each bandit knew his job well. Simon, who knew how to read, took stock of the plundered supplies. One eye Eugien, a half giant, was responsible for "pacifying" the captured villagers. And Tai Liang, a sailor, bound the slaves with a practiced efficiency that would not be the shame of any crew.

Baran's job was filler. "Stand around, look tough. Don't get in the way." were Eugien's words to him and the other "Newberries"

Baran smiled recalling his youth, that was almost 30 years ago. Every one else on that expedition was ether dead in some back ally corner, or retired. He however was still in the field.

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"Hag, give the signal. And you boy. stand around, look tough. Don't get in the way." Baran walked toward his as of yet unaware victims.

I awoke with a splitting headache. The pain in my arm had been reduced to a dull annoyance. Sitting up, the blanket slides down and reveals my bare chest. "Where did my shirt go..." I muse looking around. I was were remember loosing consciousness, the carriage and horses confirmed that. However there was a fire I had no memory of kindling, and certainly do not remember cooking the koala... thing. It had been cooked to the point where it looked like several parts had actually caught on fire. Half of it was already eaten, probably by the one who 'cooked' it. Also surprisingly my mysterious benefactor had changed my bandage and applied a herbal paste. Even going through the effort to wash my bloody shirt, and leaving it out to dry. Which, after thinking about it, was probably the reason I was not wearing it. The koala was probably venomous, and I was poisoned by his claw. After arriving at camp I probably collapsed, and all of this must have been done by someone else. But who?

I could not find the one responsible, which was confusing me. What reasons are there for some one to help a stranger and but never reveal them selves? Mulling over these thoughts I tuck in to eat.

"Ugg..." The meat was not good, tough and bitter. In order to salvage even a little flavor I sprinkle gunpowder on it. It still tastes like ash, now just salty. It was not worth the pain of hunting at all.

Finished with my 'food' I stand up and face the woods on my side of the creek.

"Thank you for help, it would be great if I could meet you!" I shouted into the forest.

Behind me I heard a loud crash as something fell out of a tree. Turning I see a figure bent and contorting, wriggling in the dirt. As I rush to cross the stream I realize what at first appeared to be a seizure, was really hysterical laughter. At me... "Sigh."

I reach down to help them up, but was declined as the figure rose on its own. The first thing that caught my eye was the hair, while a bigger mess than the ground it stood on, still managed a brilliant red color. Next was the youth, while not a teenager by any stretch, was probably around 10 years old. The clothing was simple full body dress with a belt of the same material, colored a very dirty grey. On her head was the saddest excuse for a hat I had ever seen, whatever it had been was no longer recognizable. The 'hat' was so caked in mud that it was no longer recognizable as fur.

I kneel down and lean forward to be at eye level. "Hello my name is Andrew, what is your name?"

"Tamaya" e

She avoids eye contact and looks down.

"Well Tamaya, you the one who helped me earlier?"

Tamaya starts giggling "You're not from around here are you mister? I can tell you don't smell like anything I have ever met before. Is that how you usually hunt tree bears? Because you were really bad at it. What is the wagon for? What is in the bags? Does it taste good I saw you put it on your food. Can I see your sword?"

The rapid fire questions overwhelm my expectations "No... ahh... sorry I will answer your questions later. But... uhm... where are your parents?"

"Dunno? Ran away, got lost. What is the stick you always carry around? I've never seen so much metal in my whole life! You must be rich. What's like being rich?"

I am not able to get any words through the endless waves of excited curiosity. Tamaya seems more interested in asking the question than any answer I could give. I make my way back to the campsite, with Tamaya in orbit circling me. It must have been 10 minutes before Tamaya let me answer a question.