Chapter Text
The sun has finally dipped below the horizon, drenching the sky in shades of pink and purple. A little fire crackles in the center of the riverside glade we’ve set up camp in, casting light across the makeshift tents, and the rest of my ragtag little group seems to be settling in for the night. Lae’zel is sorting through the few weapons we’ve found, Astarion went off to brood in his tent, and Gale is looking through our supply packs, pulling out what little food and cookware we have.
Shadowheart presses her fingers to my forehead and murmurs a spell. “Feeling any better now?” she asks, stepping back.
My head is still pounding from the crash, to say nothing of that hrasting mind flayer tadpole, but less so than before. I reach up to gingerly rub the spot beneath my horn. It’s tender, but not agonizing, and my fingers come away free of blood.
“Yes, I think so.”
“Well, you should be alright then. Just try to take it easy, at least as much as you can under the circumstances.”
As she starts to walk away, I call out, “Thank you for taking a look at it.”
“It’s the least I could do after you got me out of that godsforsaken pod,” she replies, but the brief moment of openness passes. “Besides, we have a better chance of surviving this if we work together.”
With that, she leaves me to my spot by the edge of the river. I watch the water flow past me, dipping the tip of my tail into it. The cold is a bit of a shock to my system, but probably the most welcome one of the many I’ve had today. I shouldn’t be alive right now, not with the state that nautiloid was left in after the crash. Neither should the others, and yet, here we are. Some bloody miracle. It would be an even bigger one if anyone here can last the seven days we have left without tearing each other apart. Shadowheart and Lae’zel keep squabbling like territorial hawks and I can practically still feel the ghost of Astarion’s blade against my throat. Gale seems fine, at least as far as I can tell, but who knows at this point.
A pleasant smell drifts through the air, smoky and hearty, and my mouth waters. I look over my shoulder, spotting the wizard crouched by the campfire, one of his mage hands delicately flipping fish filets on a makeshift stick grill. Seems like he’s nearly done cooking already. The sight alone makes my stomach growl—hells, I don’t think I’ve eaten since the abduction—but also clench with anxiety. With this many of us, the supplies we scavenged today won’t last long, and who knows when we’ll be able to find any more easy pickings. It wouldn’t even be a problem if not for that godsdamned parasite. I close my eyes, feeling out into the land around me. Mere embers of magic answer in response, not nearly enough to replenish the empty well inside me. I doubt I’d even be able to wild shape in this state. What did that thing do to me?
“Alright everyone, dinner is ready!” Gale calls out, starting to scoop grilled fish and vegetables onto makeshift plates.
I get up from the rock I’m seated on, thankfully with much less dizziness than before, and head over to the campfire. Lae’zel makes it there first, striding over and grabbing a platter when Gale has barely finished dishing it up. He just stares at her and Shadowheart shoots her a glare.
“It seems like the githyanki aren’t as well-known for their manners as they are for their martial skills,” she snips, grabbing her own plate.
“And it seems that istiks should be known for their skewed priorities.”
“Now now, settle down, ladies,” Astarion says as he ambles over. “We wouldn’t want this lovely feast to go to waste, would we?”
“Quite right. It would be best to stretch our rations as much as possible,” Gale says, side-eying all three of them.
Astarion and I take our plates and our seats, and I tear into my meal with abandon. It’s nothing special, just some fish we’d scavenged from the ruined docks and a few dusty carrots and potatoes from some ruined supply crates, but at this point I’m so hungry that the fish might as well have been a blessing from Eldath herself. The vegetables are fairly nice, too. Not as filling or flavorful as some I’ve harvested myself, but much better than nothing.
I eat quickly, occasionally glancing up to study my companions’ movements. They don’t seem interested in each other, or me, or my food—oh for gods’ sake, calm down, Wander. Sure, these people aren’t exactly trustworthy, but none of them seem particularly hostile except for Lae’zel and maybe Astarion. The githyanki woman seems too honor-bound to steal anything without winning it in a duel first and Astarion, shifty as he is, hasn’t even touched his own food. What a strange elf.
Before I know it, my plate is empty, and I set it down next to me on the log I’m sitting on with a faint pang of disappointment. Everyone else is still working on their dinner, it seems, although Lae’zel isn’t far behind me. The woman eats like she’s on a mission. I cast a glance back at the makeshift grill, off the fire now and still piled with a few bits of fish, and stifle a sigh. At least Gale seems like a decent enough cook.
Speaking of, he looks over at me. “Well, you must have been hungry. Would you care for seconds?”
My instincts scream at me to eat more, as much as I can, that I don’t know where my next meal will come from or when. The more sensible part of me knows that we should be rationing our food supplies as much as we can to avoid exactly that kind of problem. For better or worse, that’s the part that wins out.
“No, thank you. I’m alright,” I say, curling my tail around my legs.
“Chk. My people would find it absurd for a warrior to voluntarily starve themself on the eve of battle,” Lae’zel says, turning up her nose at the thought. “You will need all of the energy you can get if you wish to take on the ghaik.”
Astarion, however, holds his plate out to me. “Help yourself.”
“Aren’t you hungry?” I ask, trying and failing to keep my eyes off of the food.
“Oh no, not at all. I’ve always eaten like a bird, you know.”
“Birds eat a lot for their size.”
“You know what I mean. Do you want the food or not?”
Gratefully, if still a little hesitantly, I grab the plate and polish it off. It’s a relief after all the stress of today, washing away the lingering tastes and smells of Avernus and illithid slime. I look up at the stars glittering far above me. Something so familiar, so reassuring, but tonight they just feel cold and empty. The tadpole squirms behind my eye, making shiver.
By the First Circle, what am I going to do?
~ ~ ~ ~
Unfortunately, breakfast the next morning isn’t quite as nice. For the most part, it’s just the leftover vegetables from the day before and a bit of bread and dried fruit from an abandoned supply pack that Shadowheart found. I pick at it listlessly; without any meat, I doubt this will be enough to last me through the day, especially one with trouble. Judging by the Druidic writing I noticed scattered around the woods yesterday, there’s a Circle nearby—one that might be in danger, if the fresh worg tracks I found are any indication. Maybe I should just ask for some more food, just in case. Surely they wouldn’t think that badly of me if I just took a little, right? But I’m snapped out of my rumination when Lae’zel abruptly gets to her feet, putting her still-full dish down with a clatter and marching over to Gale.
“There is no meat in this dish,” she states.
My ears perk up.
“Er, yes? We do have a bit left, but I figured we should try to make it last.”
“K’chakhi. My people’s bodies have been changed by our time in the Astral. We require more robust and readily-digestible food than this.”
Gods, if only I was brave enough to be so direct. Although I guess that her taking more gives me an excuse to do the same without the others finding it too strange. Either way, it’s almost comforting to know that there’s another meat-eater around. I’ll have to remember to take some notes on githyanki biology while we’re still traveling together.
“Oh, well if that’s the case, I’d be happy to prepare you some,” Gale says and I suppress a pang of jealousy. “We have some of the fish from last night, as well as some jerky, if I recall correctly.”
“Very well,” Lae’zel says, sitting back down.
“I’ll have some of the fish as well,” Shadowheart adds.
Well, there’s my excuse. “I’ll just take a bit of jerky,” I mumble.
Gale makes quick work of plating up some slices of fish for the two women. Even cold, the smell of it still wafts through the air and I can’t stop myself from staring. In fact, I’m so focused that I barely notice that he’s also added a small piece of it to my plate until it’s in my hands. An odd feeling settles in my chest and I mumble a quick thanks. He gives me a cheerful smile in return.
I force myself to eat slowly, savoring each bite, not looking up from my plate. Maybe I’m just being paranoid, but I swear that I can feel the others’ eyes on me. My meal is gone before long and, while it’s physically filling and the meat helped a little, I can tell that it still won’t keep me satiated for long.
~ ~ ~ ~
Sometimes I’d give anything not to be right.
By the time we make it to the druid Circle, my stomach is growling and my energy is already starting to wane. Sure enough, the place is in danger: a goblin scouting party is at the gates, although we at least manage to help fend them off. I try to lean inconspicuously on my staff after the skirmish, legs trembling. My head throbs. To make matters worse, the situation in what we soon learn is called the Emerald Grove is utterly disastrous.
The grove is full of tieflings, refugees from Elturel, and their presence here seems to be tolerated at best and detested at worst—my own included. Everywhere we go, someone is staring at me for some reason or another. I catch several of the druids looking at my horns and tail with disgust while the tieflings eye the emblem on my armor with an air of suspicion. And everyone keeps talking about sealing the grove, something about a “Rite of Thorns”? I wrack my memory for anything I might’ve read or heard about it, but between the hunger and the lingering head injury, nothing comes to mind. The glimpses of it that I could see from outside the heart of the grove didn’t help much, even though just looking at it made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end, and the other druids don’t seem keen on letting me get any closer. Not when I’m nothing but another worthless devilkin.
At least we managed to convince Wyll to join us. It’s hard to believe that I’ve actually met the Blade of Frontiers himself, especially in a situation like this. With all the rumors and folktales I’ve heard about him, I can’t say I was sure what to expect, but I’m certainly not going to complain about the courteous, handsome young man he’s turned out to be. The refugees seemed to like him, too. Still, that’s a small bright spot on an otherwise dark day.
When we finally make it back to camp that evening, Gale once again takes up his role as our self-appointed cook and starts unpacking the bundle of supplies that we got from the grove. Costly in a way that made me grit my teeth when I handed over a chunk of the gold we had found, but enough for all of us for now. At least their trader didn’t seem to mind what I am. For my part, I withdraw to my tent over by the riverbank, trying to let the rushing water drown out what feels like a lifetime’s worth of curses and sneers.
Unfortunately, that does little to lift my spirits and, once we all gather around the fire, my mood only sours further when I see what’s for dinner. Gale hands me a platter of sautéed mushrooms and potato sprinkled with wild herbs, something that I can barely imagine snubbing, but I still bite back a disappointed growl. It wouldn’t be fair to take this out on him, even if he gave the majority of the link of sausages we got to Lae’zel; it’s not like he knows. My already-empty stomach twists with a mixture of envy and shame. I should tell them. This is already getting to be too much to bear, so I’ll have to do it at some point anyways, and then I can eat and stop feeling so godsdamned weak. But when I look over at our supply packs and open my mouth to speak, nothing comes out. I can’t risk it. I need them, I can’t have them turn against me like those other druids did, like the people back home did when—
I wrap my tail around my calf, rubbing it anxiously and squeezing my eyes shut. Oak Father, grant me your peace. Please.
“Is everything alright, Wander?” Gale asks.
I open my eyes. The rest of the group is staring at me. “I- sorry, it’s just that today was… aggravating,” I say, feeling like a rabbit in a snare.
“It was aggravating just as an observer. I can’t imagine how you must feel,” Gale says. “It was wrong of them to treat you that way.”
“I’m still surprised that they wouldn’t let you in. My cloister certainly wouldn’t turn a member of our faithful away like that,” Shadowheart adds.
Idly balancing one of his daggers on its tip, Astarion asks, “Could you not have simply snuck past them? It’s not as if a patch of trees has walls. You could even turn into a little bird and fly in.” Red eyes fix themselves on mine and I quickly look away. “Or do you not have those shapeshifting powers that the others do?”
“You can spot a druid in wild shape if you’ve got enough practice,” I mumble, dancing around the first part of his question.
Breaking the silence she’s maintained for most of the time since we’ve left the grove, Lae’zel says, “We could have easily fought our way through, had you wished.”
“No no no, I don’t want it to come to that!” I reply before taking a moment to calm myself. “Look, I would do anything in my power to change what those druids are doing to the refugees, and that ritual they’re doing feels wrong somehow, but I’d rather not spill blood in a sacred place if I don’t have to.”
“If nothing else, it seems like sealing the grove will take them some time,” Wyll says, resting a hand on my shoulder. It’s soothing, but I still have to force myself not to flinch.
I try to smile. “And we still have that devil to hunt, right?”
“Right. We’ll set off first thing in the morning, if you’re up to it. We don’t have any time to waste.”
With that matter settled, the conversation dies down and we return to our food. Dinner wraps up not long after and I bid the others good night, quickly heading to my tent. The lingering taste of my meal might as well be ash on my tongue.
~ ~ ~ ~
I’m not sure how many hours have passed. My stomach is full, at least technically speaking, but it still twinges with the familiar pangs of hunger. I feel queasy, although I’m not sure whether that’s from the odd combination of sensations or the steadily-increasing anxiety gnawing at the back of my mind. I toss and turn, clutching the cover of my bedroll tighter in a way that I’m sure will leave indents from my claws. It’s hardly cold out, but I can’t stop myself from remembering the many long, freezing nights where my body wasted away. Oh hells, I can’t do this anymore.
Climbing out of my bedroll, I step quietly out of my tent and into the camp. It’s still and almost silent, the fire having long since been extinguished and with only a hint of light coming from the tiny crescent of Selûne that’s visible. At least that means that some of my companions will have trouble seeing me. It might still be a bit dim, but once my darkvision adjusts, I can see just fine. I pause for a moment, taking everything in. The gray tones of the camp fade to thicker shadows around the farther parts, but I can still make out most of the central area from here. Everyone’s personal bags are safely stowed away in their respective tents, but the supply packs are still in a pile near the fire pit. We should probably find somewhere to put those where they won’t draw the attention of the local wildlife.
I pad softly across the camp, stalking from shadow to shadow as if in beast form. Everyone seems to be asleep, but it doesn’t hurt to be careful. Finally, I manage to get to the bags. I take one last glance around, making sure that nobody’s noticed me. Thankfully, the camp is still quiet. I dig through the bag that I remember Gale storing the meat in, pulling out some of the sausage that wasn’t used for dinner and even a bit of cheese. My stomach lurches at the sight and smell, and I lift one of the sausages to my mouth to take a bite, but I stop. I shouldn’t be doing this. They shouldn’t have to make do with less because of me. My hands are shaking and all I can think about is the awful twisting, turning feeling in my gut. I have to do this. Carefully closing and replacing the bag, I get up and hurry back to my tent.
Once I’m inside, I spread out my haul on top of my bedroll. It isn’t much and I’m tempted to just eat it all right now—gods know I could use it—but instead I grab a pair of sausage links and wolf them down, stuffing the rest into a spare sack that I’d scrounged up from somewhere or another. I’ll ration this for as long as I can, then get more when I run out. Nobody needs to know. Tucking myself back into my bedroll and closing my eyes, I already feel a little bit better. Still, it’s hard to ignore the guilt that has settled in the pit of my stomach along with the food.
~ ~ ~ ~
Dinner the next day is far more interesting than any of the prior ones, at least in terms of the company. It turns out that Wyll’s quarry wasn’t a devil at all, but a tiefling fugitive named Karlach. She’s loud and bold and oddly cheerful for someone who just escaped a decade in the Hells. I can’t help taking a bit of a liking to her and she seems to have taken a liking to damn near everyone. Still, despite her infectious energy and the fact that there seems to be no hard feelings between the two, I can’t shake the lingering unease from her and Wyll’s confrontation. Having to watch one of my own nearly die at the hands of an overzealous monster hunter dredged up old feelings that I’d rather not think about. At least Wyll doesn’t seem like he’ll do any harm, even if he’s still being cagey about who sent him after Karlach.
Meanwhile, Gale—who has been frantically preparing a much larger meal, considering that Karlach looks like quite a big eater—calls out, “Alright, everyone. Gather around, we wouldn’t want this to get cold.”
Rich smells float on the air. I hurry over and see that, to my relief, I’m not going to have to worry about going hungry. Gale has whipped up some sort of fish stew with a bit of cured meat and roasted vegetables on the side. It doesn’t take long for us all to get situated and, once we tuck into our meal, it seems like I’m not the only one getting emotional over the food. Karlach has a look of what I can only describe as awe on her face as she takes her first bite.
“Gale,” she says in a shaking, smiling voice, turning to face him, “this is the best fucking thing I’ve eaten in ten godsdamned years.”
Wide-eyed, he responds, “While I am flattered, I’m not quite that good.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. You really are doing quite a lot with what we have,” Wyll says.
“It’s been more than welcome after everything else we’ve had to deal with,” I add, feeling truly full for the first time in days. He really has no idea how welcome it is.
Karlach finishes her meal even before I do, staring longingly at the leftover food. She gets up, heading over to the mostly-empty stew pot, before stopping and looking over her shoulder at Gale. “Hey, uh, is there any more of the meat left?”
“I think that there might be some more ham in the supply packs,” he says. “Not that I’m one to disparage a meat-lover, but may I ask why?”
“Us tiefs are pretty… oh, what’s the word? We need meat to live,” she says with a shrug.
“Carnivorous,” I finish, curling in on myself. Should’ve known that this would come up eventually with another tiefling around.
“Yeah, that! Didn’t you tell him already?”
Heat rises in my cheeks and I shake my head.
“Oh, huh. Alright.”
Thankfully, she doesn’t say anything else, getting her seconds and returning to her seat. Aside from a few curious glances, the others don’t push the subject. Not Gale, though. His gaze bores into me, pinning to the spot as easily as a predator’s claws would. I can feel his eyes on me for the rest of the meal.
~ ~ ~ ~
Later that night, I lie awake tossing and turning again, although this time it’s anxiety and memories that’s gnawing at me, not hunger. I dig my claws into the sides of my head. Gods, it hasn’t been this bad in ages, not since I got good at hunting in wild shape. Even though my magic has been slowly starting to recover, turning into even the most familiar of beasts still feels beyond me. To make matters worse, I may have just ruined my chances of having a good, or at least somewhat open, relationship with this ragtag little band. Karlach at least seems like the forgiving type, not that she’d mind the carnivore anyways, but the others?
After a while of lying there with my arm flung over my eyes in a futile attempt to relax, I decide to give stretching my legs a try. The nighttime woods around here seem calm and, if nothing else, maybe I can wear myself out. I creep out of my tent, heading for the trees on the opposite side of camp. But I must not have been as quiet this time as when I snuck out to grab food, because I’ve barely made it to the edge of the woods when I hear fabric rustling behind me. I freeze.
“Is everything alright?” Gale’s voice asks, soft in the night air.
I turn around just in time to see him stepping out of his tent, faint candlelight and a stack of open books behind him. He must’ve been up late reading, or maybe everything that’s going on has thrown off my sense of time. Either way, just my luck.
“Yes, I’m fine,” I say, voice clipped. “Just needed to clear my head.”
“I see,” he replies. “And I hate to interrupt, but if you have a spare moment, I’d like to talk with you about what happened at dinner earlier.”
Gods, this is the worst possible timing; I can’t afford not to answer, can I? Not if I don’t want to make this whole mess worse. So, I nod and choke out a quick, “Okay.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that you were carnivorous? I would gladly have accommodated you.”
My tail starts twitching back and forth no matter how hard I try to still it. “I-it’s not- I just couldn’t…”
Gale pauses for a moment, looking thoughtful, before he says, “I thought that I noticed a few supplies missing this morning. I figured that I had just miscounted, but in light of recent revelations, I’m assuming that was your doing?”
My mind races and I squeeze my eyes shut. I can’t breathe. I can’t go through this again. I—
Icy wind rattles the shutters of your family’s cabin. You and your father sit at your mother’s bedside as starvation wastes you both away and consumption eats at her. Her bow and quiver rest on a rack on the wall, covered with dust.
You watch from behind a doorway as your father begs a pair of your neighbors for food. Meat, any kind, any quality. They call him gluttonous, indulgent. They don’t believe that you need it.
Your father scrapes ash and charcoal from the burned-out hearth, shoveling it into bowls. A desperate measure, but if your infernal bodies can get any sort of energy from it, it will be worth it.
The torrent of memories fade, but before the psychic connection breaks, I get a glimpse of Gale’s mind—or rather, the barrier around it. Seems the wizard can keep his memories safely locked away even when mine are being dragged out into the open. The tadpole finally stills, leaving me reeling as I try to regain my bearings.
“Wander…”
I force my eyes to open and immediately wish I hadn’t. Gale is staring at me, some sort of awful array of emotions written on his face that make me feel like I’ve been stripped to my very bones. He steps forward, reaching out to me. I shrink back in shame and he drops his hand.
“Don’t. Please,” I whisper.
“I think I understand now,” he says with a sigh. “Wander, it’s—”
I cut him off. “You know, it- it’s impressive that you can shield your mind like that. Seems like I should ask you for some advice.” A nervous laugh bubbles up from my throat.
“While I appreciate that you recognize my skills, I think we have more pressing matters at hand.” His expression softens. “I assume that what you went through in those memories is why you didn’t want to risk saying anything?
“I’m sorry, I just… I didn’t want anyone—” I try to take a deep breath and stop feeling like that small, starving kid again. “I didn’t want you all to think worse of me.”
“You have nothing to apologize for. And please, if you ever need something to eat, just let me know. I won’t have anyone in this camp going hungry on my watch,” he says with a gentle smile.
He opens his arms, beckoning me in. I hesitate for a moment, the knot of anxiety in my chest holding me back, but eventually I force myself to step forward and accept his embrace. It feels strange at first, getting a hug from someone who’s damn near a stranger, but it’s soothing nonetheless. Less awkward than having him peer into some of my worst memories, at least. After a long moment, the two of us step back.
“Now, I think it’s time for you to get some rest,” Gale says. “If I recall, you’ve got some false paladins to fight in the morning.”
I nod; walk or no walk, my emotions have more than done the job of tiring me out. “Thank you.”
“Think nothing of it. We all need to do what we can to help each other survive.” A flicker of something like doubt or worry crosses his features, although he quickly buries it. “We’re all in this together, after all.”
“Right, together.”
Somehow, I think I’m actually starting to believe that.