Nuzzling the velvet of the foal's coat, Kirthag scritches his ears and breathes in his horsey breath.
"This one will be a runner, Black. He will run with the winds," she utters to the other female.
"You think so? His sire could run from Minoc to Yew in less than a day without breaking a sweat. But his dam is such a lazy nag. I'd be surprised if this colt does half as good as his sire." Black shakes her head while straightening the stall. The aforementioned mare bobs her head as if agreeing with both of the two-leggers, but in reality, she just wants more oats.
Kirthag chuckles as she stands, walks over to the mare, and offer her a handful of oats. "This old girl? Nah, she's not lazy, are you beauty? Yer jus' tired from hauling my junk, eh?" The mare chews of the offered oats, hearing the breathy laughter in the fiery-two-legger's speech, and offers her own chortle through her nostrils. The mare likes the fiery-one, she brings oats and a strong scratch to the neck. Still chewing her oats, the mare looks at the other two-legger, the dark one. She then snorts.
The Black shakes her head while shrugging her shoulders. "I still say she's lazy," and snorts back to the pack mare.
"All well and good, but come, Black. We have need to talk about that last caravan to this place. What happened?"
Kirthag's voice is filled with concern as she leads the other woman from the stables in Britain. Traveling between the shards is never a task one takes lightly, and Kirthag despises such moves - unless necessary. Traveling with an entire caravan of burdened pack animals is an altogether risky undertaking fraught with the danger of loss.
The Black follows Kirthag from the stable, toward the Commons of the city. Thinking herself a calm person, she is slightly surprised by the anxiety that swells in her heart while recollecting this last crossing through the mists.
"As instructed, Katterina used her magics to put her entire essence and knowledge into the Soulstones. It was harrowing to watch, so I ask you never to request me to assist with that again. But, that elf surprises, and her magics strong. It took her no time to imbue her entire being into the stones."
Kirthag nods, listening to the other.
"We secured the soulstones within their own strongbox, then within another metal chest, and finally it was set upon that lazy na-- err-- mare. We readied to cross through the mists." The Black pauses. "I should have known."
Kirthag continues walking, her thoughtful gaze to the ground.
The Black looks at her lady's back, unsure of how to describe what transpired.
"Please, finish," Kirthag says softly to the woman behind her.
Taking a deep breath, The Black speaks.
"We started the crossing well enough. I inspected each and every beast of burden, making sure their packs were secure. I did sense a bit of tension with the mare, but figured her to be just fat and lazy. And so we passed the veil from Pacific. Somewhere in the mists, I'm not sure where as it is just a blanket of nothingness between there and here, that fat mare dropped her load - or rather she dropped what I should have noticed to be her burden. The mare went into labor, for she wasn't fat, but with foal."
As the women enter the British Commons, Kirthag nods hearing the other speak. Her green eyes still watch the ground, but her full attention is on Black's tale.
"I heard the mare's labor, but had to make sure everything got through the mists - so grabbed up what I could as I lead the rest of the caravan into Catskills. Seeking the stable hands to mind the beasts, I dropped everything I had at the construction site, and returned to the edge of the mists where I found the mare and that foal. But... nothing else. Not the rest of her load, or even a smattering of her laboring to bring forth that colt. The mare just stood there, idle as the newborn nursed at her teat."
The Black finishes her tale as the women stop near in the center of the Commons. Kirthag's face is a mixture of emotional thought which makes The Black uneasy.
"And you checked everything at the site? Everything?" Kirthag asks, turning her gaze to bore into The Black's soul.
Taking a small step backward, The Black catches her breath. "Yes, m'lady," is all she could reply in a whisper.
Kirthag nods once. She is all too familiar with the dangers of crossing over the mists between shards, but the loss of the essence of her friend and personal scribe is a loss she cannot bear. To lose trinkets and baubles is one thing, but the loss of one so quietly brave is a grave situation.
"I need a drink," says the lady. "I think I will go to the Salty Dog and have a gander at the locals here before I go to the site."
The Black nods, feeling uneasy. "Let me summon you a mount first, please. Perhaps it will be good to ride a normal horse for a change. Your Pooka is still on Pacific." And with that, a brown horse is procured.
Kirthag nimbly mounts the horse who fidgets a bit. "Sketchy fellow," she comments softly as she pats his neck. Without further word, she kicks the steed into a canter and heads east within the city.
The Black watches as her mistress leaves. She worries that Kirthag roams around alone, without her armor or weapons in a strange shard. The Black knows she is not her full self just yet - and the magics keeping the paladin here will soon wear off. Kirthag must cross the mists soon. The Black wonders at the wisdom of this entire move to Catskills, but it is not for her to decide such matters.
Summoning Onyx, who appears with her custom nightmare scream, The Black puts her thoughts behind her. She has to get back the Feluccian construction site and rifle through the myriad of boxes, chests, and containers there. She must find the soulstones of Katterina.
