The archer stirs and opens his eyes as Edric finishes cleaning his still-healing wounds. He looks around at the darkened camp, taking in the dead bodies and the injured party members, and sighs. "I must be dreaming again," he comments to Edric, with the familiarity of a man talking to a figment of his imagination -- in essence, knowing that he is talking to himself. "This is not so bad as some dreams of late."


The feral man's shattered leg bones begin to knit under Zaljan's care, and the sores on his hands and feet heal themselves as well. He continues to sob, though, violently but with little noise. Wherever his mind went when it was released from the fae-elf's control, it's not here anymore.

Edric looks down at the archer, trying to smile. "You're not dreaming anymore, sir. Unfortunately. You're going to have to take care of your granddaughter, Megara, now. I suggest you get home to Enche quickly."

The man's expression gets a little more brittle, a little more desperate. "No, dream-man, I must be dreaming. How would I have come here, to a place I do not know, with no memory of my trip? How would you, a stranger, know where I live and who my granddaughter is?" He looks at his arms, where the flesh has healed to shiny red weals. "I am much plagued by bad dreams of late. I see -- I do -- terrible things ... but I shall wake at home, as I always do."

Edric shakes his head sadly. "Not this time, I'm afraid. We have removed the cause of your 'bad dreams,' and I hope they shan't come again. But today you will be walking home under your own power. Whatever you believe you have done in your dreams was not your doing. Do not believe anything else." He reaches down and offers his hand to help the man to his feet. "You will find your life is not as you remember it, and I apologize for that. But please believe that the worst is over."

Taddeo, wiping his mouth in disgust crouches to check on Yala. She has been very quiet. Something may be wrong.

Yala is rolled up tightly in her bedroll, sniffling and crying to herself.

"You all right in there, Yala? It looks like the worst is over."

Taddeo's voice is rough, his throat still raw from the retching.

"Papa?" Yala pulls the covers off her head and looks around, seeming disoriented and unable to focus. "Oh ... I thought I was ... back home." She sits up unsteadily. "Are you done raining?"

Raising his voice, Taddeo calls over his shoulder.

"Zaljan!"

He turns back to Yala.

"What do you mean, Yala? Were you dreaming?"

"Nobody was listening. I couldn't see the clouds." She lays back down, pulling her knees up to her chest. "It isn't working and I'm still mad at you."

Zaljan leaves Punchy half-knit, and Edric still-skewered, and rushes to Yala's tent. "Somethin' wrong?"

In a low voice he mutters to the other man.

"Something might be wrong with Yala."

Turning his attention back to the girl he attempts a smile.

"Well, I'm sorry you're mad at me. You called out and no one could hear?"

Greenleaf slowly gets to his feet, still rubbing his ear. He surveys the camp, and noticing that Yala is being attended to, goes to check on the oxen and the cart. I wonder what those fiends were doing to the oxen. I hope they aren't hurt.

The archer takes Edric's hand and allows himself to be helped to his feet. His face is that of a man about to go into battle, hoping he can put it off as long as possible, but knowing he must confront something terrible ahead. He gestures at the bodies of the feral men and archers. "Are any of these dead ... yours?" The unspoken question in his tone adds, are any of them mine?


"I said, I said all of them, but it doesn't matter. If she can then I can. And then you'll see."


The carts are almost untouched; the tarpaulin covering the gear is lightly singed, and that's all. The oxen are lying down, appearing to be sleeping peacefully, but the ranger can recognize the work of paralytics and poisons much like his own. The first two oxen are breathing shallowly, their respiration slowing with each passing minute; the others are not quite as far gone.

Taddeo gestures towards the girl, staring at Zaljan as if to say 'See! Crazy talk!'.