A gentle breeze blew across the grassland, but it offered little comfort to the figure who knelt before a small pile of stones. The sun beat down upon her copper tone flesh as Branwen continued her lonely vigil. Storm clouds gathered on the horizon, as they had done several times in the nearly three months that had passed since her god had forsaken her.

Was it a challenge? Did he commit her to a spiritual trial to see the truth of her faith? She guarded his armor, surely a sign that he would return some day if her faith held true.

Neither he, nor his companion had returned in all that time. Worse, his body disappeared last the day after he traveled to the other world. In all this time, she had seen nothing more of him. Yet, here she remained.

Branwen did not flinch when the first drops of rain fell across her flesh. Even when the sprinkle became a torrential downpour, she did not cease her lonely vigil. The god of her people had come to her, released her from bondage. If this was indeed a test, she would not fail him. He had asked only that she guard this area while he slept. That is what she would do.

Lightning streaked across the sky as the wind picked up. Thunder pealed across the grassland, yet she did not seek cover. She would pass this test, whether it was ordained by her god or it was merely her own choice not to forsake him did not matter. She would remain vigilant. First, she would cover the armor with a cloth to help reduce damage to it.

The storm, as most storms that happened in life, inevitably passed. Sometime during the night Branwen had fallen onto her backside. She refused to fall asleep, but it was inevitably that she would do so. It had been days since the last time that she allowed her eyes to close for more than a few seconds.

Branwen used some of the materials left in the campsite to clean the armor once more. She had just barely managed to dry it off when she smelled something on the wind. Perfume, a heady mix of feminine scent and wildflowers reached her nostrils.

She rose from her place in the grass and looked toward the source of the wind. In the far distance there moved two small figures. They were still too far away to discern more than their vague shape, and it remained that way for a while.

Much to her discomfort, Branwen was forced to accept that the travelers were heading in her direction. She rose shakily to her feet, her eye lids heavy due to lack of sleep. Whoever these travelers were, they would best be served by their taking leave of the area entirely.

It took some time for the newcomers to traverse the distance, but that merely meant that the three of them had the chance to size each other up. Once they were all within shouting range, Branwen cried out, “Who are you? What is it that you want here?”

During the time spent in her lonely vigil she had slowly recovered her normal status. Her tongue had finally grown back, and her body was slightly less overwhelmingly designed for eroticism. There was still a little more to go before she could be considered normal, but that would take quite some time to achieve. Even so, most of her restoration had been completed.

One of the women, a red head, cupped her hands to her mouth then shouted back, “Are you Branwen?”

The dragon girl frowned, her eyebrows knitting together to form a decidedly uncomfortable looking expression. Where these women retainers of the Davrin family come to collect her? They would have to work for their profits if that were the case!

“That is my name. I do not know either of you. I ask that you remain at a distance,” she called out imperiously.

The women looked to each other for a moment then the red head called out once more, “We need to talk to you about Scott!”

Scott? These women knew the otherworld name of her god? Perhaps this was a part of his test?

“What is it that you wish to say?” asked Branwen. “You may come a little closer but remain at a distance.”

The women nodded to each other then trotted forward in a non-threatening manner. Once they had covered a majority of the distance between the three of them, Branwen called out for them to stop and not to come any closer.

Staring across the short distance from each other, neither of the women spoke for a moment. They took that time to size each other up and to consider their next moves carefully.

Eventually it was the red head who spoke first. “Hi. Branwen. My name is Shara. This is Ashton. Sonja told us where you were in the hopes that you have some idea where Scott might be.”

Branwen closed her eyes then slowly opened them. Admittedly, she was a little low on sleep at the moment. Still, it had sounded like even Sonja did not know where her god had wandered off to since their departure from this world.

“I have not seen the dread one since the time of his passing from this world. Even his body disappeared a little over one day later,” admitted Branwen.

Ashton sighed loudly then shook her head. Branwen looked her over. A beauty by any means, she also seemed to be something of a fighter. She sported a large number of bruises that seemed to have been on the mend for quite some time given their color and severity.

“He’s not dead, and he’s not here,” muttered Ashton. “Where is he?”

Branwen took their words to heart. Her god had not died. Apparently, that was a possibility in their estimation. It was good to learn more about the dread one, but the fact that he could be slain was slightly disconcerting.

The three women drew closer together and began to compare notes. The mystery of the missing Scott proved to be quite mystifying to all involved. He had been gone for a short few weeks on Earth, which translated to over two months in the dream.

Many things had happened, including a reminder that a new event called ‘Status One’ would occur within the next few days on Earth. It had been pushed make by a few days already to avoid certain issues, according to the message sent by the gods, but things were about to get a whole lot more colorful on Earth given what was to come.