Could we have a story of how Anthe and Wraithvine met the little bugbear Rawr? How he lost his eye? And how they rescued him? Please?
@internutter/challenge-02854-g297-here-s-one-we-made-earlier -- DaniAndShali
"Hate the cold, hate the cold, hate it hate it hate it hate it hate the cold," Anthe grumbled. She was bedecked in a yeti fur coat, if 'bedecked' fit the fact that she was in there somewhere. Boots of Insulation and a Ring of Warmth seemed to share the general effect. Which was, according to Anthe, minimal.
"Tell me how you really feel," said Wraithvine. They were also lost in the midst of coats, mittens, scarves and, because of hir Elven heritage, ear socks that were at least semi-tasteful. It was impossible to get them in not-dorky-looking. The fire was hot, but it was spending most of its heat on the rest of the universe and not on the two adventurers trying to at least put together some kind of shelter.
"You were right, I do regret giving my pocket tent to those goblins," sighed Anthe. "They don't make them like that any more."
"They just don't make them like that," said Wraithvine. "It takes a week of work, some very interesting ingredients, including one dragon claw, and a point of exhaustion to put even the simplest one together."
"We could spend a week in Lower Petraine if you want to," offered Anthe. "Better than looking at who's been poaching th--" She froze in place, looking over the snow-covered landscape. Trying to peer through the obfuscating veil of falling snowflakes. One hand, very slowly, reached for a pouch.
Wraithvine, knowing there were very few reasons why a Rogue would go quiet and then on guard, reached for hir wand. "Trouble?" ze whispered.
"Maybe," Anthe whispered back. She took out her ration pack, not her throwing knives. "I think I know why they were going after the penned piglets." She raised her voice and said, "I see you over there. It's all right. Come and talk. We're willing to listen." A few steps away from the fire, and she laid out a ration pack on the snow. Unwrapping it to show the jerked meat.
As she backed away, some of the snow moved.
As the poacher revealed themself, several facts came into play. Fact - Bugbears in snowy country don't waste resources on those who they judged as unfit. Fact - they would abandon their unfit young as soon as they stopped suckling. Fact - baby bugbears were very, very tiny indeed.
They were smaller than Anthe, who wasn't that large in Kobold terms. The shaggy, matted fur made their exact form indistinct, and only one yellow eye peered out from the mess of fur, sticks, and snow.
"It's a baby," cooed Wraithvine, leaving off constructing the lean-to so they could lay out their own ration pack.
The two adventurers shared a Look. It said, No babies left abandoned. It was agreed. They were not slaying a monster, today, but expanding their family. Anthe lured the baby Bugbear closer to the fire with jerky whilst Wraithvine shot some fresher meat. Bugbears were obligate carnivores. Though they could eat some vegetable matter, it wasn't recommended that they devour a lot of it.
When Wraithvine returned with a brace of fat winter partridges, Anthe's yeti coat had an extra occupant. One that didn't bother to wait for a bird to be skinned, gutted, and cooked before tearing into it.
"They're much better roasted," said Wraithvine. Ze decided to pan-fry the bird organs as ze gutted the bird they were working on. Something that fascinated the tiny Bugbear in Anthe's arms.
Anthe was working on the Bugbear's fur with a Comb of De-tangling. Easing snow, sticks, leaves and other debris carefully out of surprisingly golden-brown fur. In the process discovering that the Bugbear had not lost an eye. There never was one there. No socket, either, just a smooth expanse of fur where a socket should have been.
No second eye meant no depth perception. No wonder this waif went after domestic animals that were already stuck in a pen. He couldn't hunt anything else.
"Do you have a name?" Anthe asked and, since she'd done much to put her new baby at ease, she got an answer.
"Rawr," said Rawr. Clean, fluffy, and fed, he was soon dressed up in clothing that they had to spare. Clothing that included a bandage over the eye that never was.
"This," said Anthe as she wound the bandage on, "will answer a lot of questions. When you get older, we could find you a patch."
"If we don't find something else in the meantime," said Wraithvine. "I have come, in my years, to trust in the forces of synchronicity and serendipity."
The village of Frostbit Falls did not warm to Rawr or his plight, but at least tolerated his presence before a firm and definite farewell.
Anthe, on leaving, said, "Lower Petraine is very nice this time of year. Nice and warm."
Wraithvine had to admit that Lady Anthe had a point.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / Mirina]
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