Wraithvine had two new adventurers to train. One, a person who is able, in small bursts, to stop time, one who was willing to risk their life to save hirs, and another, a terrified child who was alone in the forests and almost entirely feral. The immortals, Wraithvine and Birbid, and that fully immortal cat, Lilbit, were now a new adventuring party with these two young wonders. No prophecy, no destiny, just family. Which is nice for a change.
@internutter/challenge-04878-m129-unexpected-rescue
@internutter/challenge-04882-m133-taming-the-wild-child -- Anon Guest
[AN: Those stories were unrelated. Not any more]
Bibrid had been examining Scramble's ability through his Dragon eyes to see if anything was different to true Draconic senses. Irritatingly, everything remained the same. He still couldn't unriddle what sort of spellwork was going on behind Scramble's eyes. He sighed and resumed his accustomed Gnomish guise. "So much for that idea. Sorry for wasting your energies."
"I'll be fine," Scramble helped hirself to one of the good berries. All the better to restore hirself. "We camped to make sure that the energy was available to spend. No threats from the woods, no rampaging Adventurers in the middle of nowhere, no unforseen-- oh, I spoke too soon." Scramble pointed to Wraithvine's return, and the small creature in the Eternal Wizard's tow.
"Oh dear," sighed Bibrid. "That doesn't look like a lot of forage, Wizard."
"You know I'm in the habit of finding lost souls," Wraithvine dug out something small and edible from hir pockets and fed the Hellkin child.
Who froze, clinging to Wraithvine's coat, when they saw Bibrid and Scramble.
"It's all right," Wraithvine cooed. "These are friends. Bibrid is a friend. Scramble is a friend. They will not hurt you."
The Hellkin was small, dangerously thin, and completely filthy. Horns and hair were matted together with twigs, feathers, and bits of fur. They had hooves instead of feet, but lacked the thick fur most of that body type had on their legs. Or... the poor creature could also have a bad case of mange.
Scramble carefully walked closer, crouching when this newcomer bared their fangs to hiss. "Wraithvine's right. We won't hurt you." Ze stretched out hir hand. "Come see?"
Bibrid remained very, very still. He remembered a lot of trouble with Hellkin at some point in his multiple millennia of life. Then again, Dragons like him had had trouble with every kind of intelligent life that wasn't other Dragons. Even then, it was a close call. He therefore decided to wait and let the Hellkin approach him. All while making faces at Wraithvine that said, What the flying hells are you doing? without uttering a word.
"They're going to need a name," said Wraithvine, gently encouraging the Hellkin away from hir immediate contact.
Scramble won the Hellkin's curiosity, at last. Staying still and calm as the small and scrawny devilborn risked a tap. A touch. Some sniffing. They flinched away when Scramble tried a gentle touch of hir own against the child's filthy skin. "Where did Wraithvine find you?" Scramble asked.
"Someone dumped snare wire," said Wraithvine. "Several other creatures had died in it before this scrap got tangled."
"So we don't call them Snare," decided Scramble, getting the devilborn used to hir touch. "Nor do we call them Hiss, Hungry, or Muddle."
"Serendipity is always popular for foundlings," said Wraithvine. "Or Synchronicity."
"That's too much name for not enough child," Scramble decided. "How do you feel about... Chance?"
As if in answer, the small scrap of a Hellkin turned to Scramble and said, "Eh?"
"Chance. Your name is Chance."
Chance was in for many changes. The concept of a bath, for starters. At least Wraithvine had several spells to rid Chance of vermin. Inside and outside. They adapted to clothing via the simple relief of staying warm and safe from any breeze.
Clean and clothed, Chance was the exact hue of a green olive. Their hair the deep, dark green of dried kelp, and their horns were tiny stubs near their hairline. Chance had yet to say a word. Well. A word that was more than a grunt that could be a word. They tended to hunker near Wraithvine, and warily watch Bibrid.
Who was warily watching them.
It was Wraithvine who said, "This little one is far too young to have had anything to do with the Xenophobia wars, and you know it."
Bibrid scowled, not wanting to admit that the Eternal Wizard was right. He stared at Chance as they scurried about the campsite, using both hooves and hands to move around. Listening to the yips and barks as they poked or prodded at everything and anything.
"You're going to learn to walk like people," he announced. He approached with all care, and gently took Chance's hands in his. Helping them up. They were of a height, for the moment. Good food and care would soon have them shooting up to a height far beyond Bibrid's current Gnomish dimensions. "Use your tail to balance, see? And then your hands are free for other things."
Four wobbling steps had Bibrid finding out what kept Chance on all fours. A minor birth defect that gave them weak tendons in their hocks. An easy fix, once Bibrid got his magic flowing.
The magic necessary for their mind... That would take a little longer. Slow, delicate, and careful work to unlock the way for Chance to learn by themselves. But it could be done.
That night, Bibrid had a Hellkin's purr in his ear when they were all safe in their bedrolls.
[Photo by Sebastian Unrau on Unsplash]
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