~Lisa~

It was fortunate that all of them survived. Even the elder who took an electric needle to the heart made a full recovery–which frankly I didn’t understand. How can one’s heart be punctured and electrocuted yet be perfectly fine not five minutes later?

Sure, Avery went on about some self-guided adhesive-clotting agent, an infusion of will, a supplement of mystic energy, and then for some reason an even stronger electric shock, but infused with rejuvenation intent? Honestly, I just chalked it up to nature magic, but decided to do a bit of research when I returned home.

Our captives were bound, separated, and kept half delirious, aside from the first who was too crippled to be threatening.

With each interrogation, the tightness in my chest redoubled yet I allowed none to show on my visage.

I couldn’t help but blame myself for the failure of my traps, they were a complete disappointment in live combat. We did as good of a job as we could in concentrating the poison mist around our targets, but it wasn’t enough. Outside the Thicket, the woods were too sparse to contain the poison and errant winds thinned enough for the keenest of their senses to notice.

Regardless of my remorse in causing such grievous injuries to be inflicted upon possible allies, they must still be questioned.

Normally, cultivators would bury their pride when cowed with overwhelming violence. Only in the stories does one look certain death in the eye when there’s an easy escape.

“Da–dat bird fiddler! Suppos ta rescue his clutchlin we was, but that done–done did– worked out brilliant, right? Pfft.”

But this lot, they were just lucid enough to be angry yet inebriated enough to spout off irate grievances at the heavens; and me.

“Cruel heavens! Jealous of me, of my skill, and of my potential. Just like those damn birds, and their lovers, reaching for the black-bellied heavens. Some… some half-beaks may wish to soar to equal heights, yet are found lacking! Rain sleet and thunder upon me while you can! Given time to grow, I shall surpass you on the Grand Dao of the Virtuous Taboo! Kekeke!”

Sure, a few had dreams of grandeur, but which cultivator desires to be ordinary? Should any of them gain the power to be a threat, they will simply be drowned in the responsibility that comes with it. It’s how the clans and sects last, after all.

The last of the captives finally answered the questions. He wasn’t slow out of reluctance, no he kept falling asleep. Honestly, he was the most disturbing.

His eyes were bleary and each time he was asked a question he would half open them and look around, taking in each one of us while giving off a gentle smile. If he wasn’t pitching an unimpressive tent, perhaps he would even seem at peace.

I’m not fool enough to think highly of my appearance, but I know the depravity of men can surely find perversions deep enough to encompass the most unappealing–even if, only with the aid of narcotics.

“Young Miss, You are indeed a pompous plume-plucked yoke-brained pelvic-wreathed maiden of exemplary perport–”

Ok, I might have given him a kick or two, but only once Sara wasn’t looking of course.

Even with the vulgarities, Sara sensed nothing out of the expected. Well, nothing treacherous anyway. Even with her certainty, I couldn’t help but suspect one person–the same inbred that challenged me to a spar before I left on this expedition. At the very least, I could swear his cretin was holding a juvenile grudge.

Despite explaining our history and my hesitance, our group eventually decided to let them join the others. Or rather, Sara convinced me that keeping one prisoner, without evidence, would only make the others disheartened towards us. Apparently several were letting off strongly opinionated emotions while listening in on our discussion. I couldn’t blame them. Not after having become captives of their rescuees.

Either way, they would need to be given time to recuperate. In the interim, we’ll have to keep watch for any other would-be rescuers inbound. Our paranoia may yet be justified, after all.

~~~

It was half a day before we caught sight of the next groups to arrive. There were two. First from the church, seeking the safe return of Ashley and Sara, the second were various sprud-folk of Avery's grove.

While Sara claimed to have no reason to suspect the church, Avery certainly suspected foul play on that of her supposed allies. Of the two, I was most surprised with Sara. Surely she has someone who wants her dead, who doesn’t?

We entrenched ourselves near the top of a nearby hill, angling ourselves such that the other groups would be halfway to the top before they noticed one another.. Hopefully they will do so before reaching us. Such timing would allow our captives–acquaintances to heal from their recent injuries and perhaps contribute should conflict arise.

In truth, most of our deliberations were in order to prevent a conflict from occurring altogether. None of us wanted to repeat the insult and injury. Not to those who only wanted to help. Guilt weighed heavily on each of our thoughts as we aided the recovery of our new allies as best we could.

As others focused on recovering the injured, I focused on fortifying our position. While I was loath to cause further injury to potential allies, better them than me; or those I would—nearly call friends.

Fortunately, our plan of approach seemed to work. Both the church and the Spruds nearly cressed the top of the hill before noticing one another. Just as the groups began to identify one another, we crested the hill ourselves, hoping that such large numbers would spoil any attempt at sabotaging our retrieval.

Upon noticing our arrival, the already high tensions rose to another magnitude. Many already had hands-on weapons, but now several began to draw them in earnest, causing a ripple of others to do the same, less they lost the initiative. Fortunately the higher ranking of each group began barking orders to stand down, preventing the worst case scenario.

The ruckus quieted down almost instantly, as the apparent leaders of each group seemed to mutually agree to have a staring contest. For once I was glad to not be in charge, eye contact is always cringe worthy.

Good shine, saplings. I am Rane Rockstrewn, a Barkboon of our mutual home, Convail.

Good sine indeed Barkboon, especially after the twistlands. This Longvine is but a lowly servant of the Necime Grove. You honor me with such a humble greeting.

In the silence of the interim, I hear an annoying munching noise that lacked even the basics of manners. Glaring, Ashley freezes, jaw full of the nutty snack. Smacking her full hand, the clap echo's causing the gaze of the crowd to turn from Avery to… me.

“Apologies,” I bowed, hiding the blush I could feel rising, “I spotted marmeme attempting to attach itself to my friend. We must remain vigilant.”

“Well said,” The Barkboon agreed, “We must look outward for danger, not inward. Only united shall we surpass the canopy and achieve–”

The sermon was cut short as people from each group began to attack one another. Poisonous vines and clouds of pollen minced the clergy who retaliated with divine swathes of blue mist and blazing thorns.

Ashley resumed her snacking.

Before we could make a plan as to which side we were supposed to help, our new allies seemed to be split on attacking either side. Before long, planning was meaningless and only the fight for survival remained.

I didn’t have time to keep track of Sara trying her best to put individuals to sleep, or Avery, deflecting countless attacks with a needle much too small for melee combat. Nor could I focus on my other allies. Slashing my straight sword, my focus narrowed to the sprush attempting to strangle me in vines.

As three strands, thick as a sailor’s rope, came for me, I parried. Once, twice, then trice in a flury I cut deep into wirey appendages. My sword bit into vines and knocked them aside, but I wasn’t able to maintain contact long enough to cut cleanly through. Before the last vine was knocked aside, the first was already mended and rejoining the fray.

With a gliding leap to the side, I dodged the vines and thrust my sword into the throat of a maceman, prematurely ending his battle cry. My sword was pulled from his throat as the vines snaked back, entangling my wings and lifting me from the ground. Twisting my wrist, I manage to nick one of the vines enough to cause a shudder to ripple through it. The slack allowed me to pull my curved sword with my off hand In a reverse grip. Although curved, the sword was still double edged, allowing it to be used as a scimitar or, as it was now, an elongated sickle. Unpractical against humanoids, but great to have against a great number of tentacle, tendril, and vinery creatures. Not to mention the numerous chi thread cultivators.

With a near wild slash, my sword hooked and tore through one vine after another. Slowly, I made ground towards my assailant. I inched closer, half a step all the while taking shallow cuts from vines that managed to clip me even after being sliced in twine. My adrenaline redoubled as I finally came within range of the now frantic sprush. Yet before I could let my sword descend and complete my victory…

“Enough!” As the shout reverberated, an electric tingle ran down my spine. Judging by the others' reaction, it wasn’t just my heart that literally skipped a few beats.

The delay was enough for the other leaders to shout their own commands, bringing the forces to a grinding halt. Though I didn’t miss the leary glances they shot towards Avery.