A/N: Yet another crossover fic! Sorry, but I just love the "stranger in a strange land theme." All references to the Exalted setting belong to White Wolf publishing, while the Rifts references are courtesy of Kevin Simbaeda and Palladium Games. The specific characters are largely the inventions of my gaming group. Thanks to them for letting me borrow them--again.

Arrival

Deos Talon stood at the heart of the demesnes he hoped to raise into a manse, puzzled and frustrated. Over the last few days, the Essence of the dragon lines running through the place had been very unpredictable, surging and then ebbing. His sifu Virtuous Guardian had been as puzzled as he, and neither one could find a cause. Now Guardian was tracing some of the lines, hoping to find a source of such disturbance, as well as checking other dragon lines to discover whether or not they were similarly affected, while Talon tried to ameliorate the damage done to his demesnes.

Attuned as he was, he sensed the next surge of energy. It made his skin prickle; he automatically used the Incomparable Sorcerer's Sight and was nearly blinded by the Essence that surged through the dragon lines. Suddenly, a crackling line of energy appeared near the center of his demesnes, visible even to his mortal senses. It widened into a crack, a rent in the very fabric of Creation. Talon stared; he had never seen anything quite like it before. Then he realized that there was something on the other side of the angry roiling mist, and had just enough time to duck as a huge beast came hurtling through the portal, roaring angrily.

The strange portal closed, healing itself, as the strange beast slid to a halt several yards away, gave a final coughing roar, and died. With his sorcerer's sight, Talon could see the Essence woven through it, and realized that it wasn't alive at all, but some sort of machine. The Essence ebbed away as he watched, and then he saw that there was something—make that someone—alive and trapped beneath it.

Hurrying over, he approached the still-smoking machine, coughing as the stench of scorched cloth, cordite, and fresh blood assaulted his nose. Gingerly he grabbed the thing and managed to wrestle it away, revealing a young woman lying limp on the grass. Long dark hair obscured her face, and a long coat or jacket made of something like thunder lizard hide enveloped her body. The tough leather was scored and pierced in several places. Many of the holes were charred at the edges, and when Talon knelt and gently turned her over he saw that much of blood that stained the coat was hers. But there was a faint pulse at her throat, and Talon settled himself on the grass to begin the first of his healing charms.

Deanna McIssac—also known as "Tinkerbell"—woke slowly from dreams of fire and blood into a reality of sun-washed forest. Her head was fuzzy, but otherwise she felt good—pretty damn good for someone who'd managed to get herself shot up by a bunch of Deadboys.

Cool, she thought. Looks like they managed to find me some good drugs.

Rolling over carefully, she blinked at the trees that surrounded her. Not just trees—really big, old trees. She didn't recognize the species—well, she wasn't exactly the outdoorsy type—but they didn't look quite like anything she'd ever seen. The grass was thick and lush despite the shade, and the sunlight filtered through a green canopy gave the whole place a weird ethereal appearance.

Her heart sank as she looked for her companions. They were nowhere in sight, although there was a sort of campsite set up. But there was only one small, unfamiliar tent, and it looked like the place was set up more for long-term habitation than the one- or two-night sites Badger set up for them. And the blanket that covered her wasn't wool or cotton, but fur. Real, honest-to-god fur, sort of like a tiger hide except that it was rich green with deep brown stripes. Cautiously, she peeked beneath the fur and blushed when she realized she was naked.

Naked, but apparently unmolested. In fact, the wounds she'd picked up in that skirmish with the CS were gone without so much a scar. So, either she'd been unconscious for quite some time…

Or there was some pretty big mojo working here.

As she looked around uncertainly, the tent flap rustled. Reflexively Deanna clutched the fur to her chest as a slender blond man in a long scarlet cloak stepped out of the tent. He looked at Deanna and smiled, such a warm friendly smile that Deanna found herself smiling back. He turned back to the tent for a moment and said something Deanna couldn't understand, then walked the few steps to where she sat. The girl's mouth watered and her stomach rumbled as she realized he held a steaming bowl in his hand. The blond man sat near her, fastidiously drawing his cloak around his knees, and handed her the bowl. She took it without thinking—it was full of some kind of stew that steamed gently and smelled like glory. There was no spoon, just a pair of short sticks, but she managed to shovel chunks of meat and vegetables into her mouth without dropping too much of it. Before she realized it, she was tilting the bowl to drink the last savory drops of broth.

The blond man watched her the whole time, chuckling softly as she slurped the last of the stew. This close, Deanna realized that he was absurdly handsome, and blushed again under his close scrutiny. As he took the empty bowl from her, the tent rustled again, and this time a portly fellow in green stepped out.

He looked older than the first man, with dark hair and a mustache streaked with gray. There was a comfortable, fatherly sort of air about him, and Deanna instinctively trusted him. The blond man said something that sounded amused, and the older man chuckled and approached Deanna. He knelt by the makeshift bed and took her chin in his hands, checking her eyes. Then he had her extend her arms, running his hands down their length, and then he reached beneath the fur to gently feel her ribs. It was little embarrassing, but much less intrusive than her last gyno exam, and he was evidently trying so hard to put her at ease that she couldn't be really offended. Finally he sat back and said something to the blond man who nodded and disappeared into the tent again. He reappeared a moment later with a pile of clothes. Deanna gave a cry of relief and joy when she recognized her duster lying right on top.

Salus Taran smiled at his lover as the girl began to pull on the clothes he had so carefully washed and mended.

"Wherever she came from, she certainly acts human."

Talon nodded thoughtfully as he filled his pipe. "Yes, but there is something strange about her Essence," he said. "She is neither an Exalt, nor a god, nor one of the Fair Ones. Yet her Essence is stronger than any mortal's I've ever seen."

"Perhaps a thaumaturgist?" suggested Salus. "You have told me they wield a great deal more power than other mortals."

"Perhaps…" Talon considered the idea. "Now my trinket, tell me what you sense about her."

"Well, I haven't had much time…" Salus demurred.

Talon only chuckled. "You can evaluate a man in seconds," he said.

"True." Salus smiled. "Well, this is only my first impression, but…" He thought for a moment, watching the girl stand and pull on the coat. "She was nervous, but not really afraid. She was confused, but she didn't panic. I would say, she is fairly intelligent and adaptable. Any other conclusions will have to wait."

"Hmm." Talon puffed on his pipe. The girl had finished dressing now, and turned a slow circle, eyeing the trees with awe. She looked to Talon and Salus and spread her hands. For the first time since she had awakened, she looked lost.

She was feeling lost. "Hey, guys," she called, "I don't suppose you know where my bike is, do you?"

The two consulted a moment longer, then the blond went back into the tent, returning with a familiar battered backpack and knapsack. He handed them to Deanna with another smile.

"My stuff!" Deanna whooped with glee and immediately sat down to check her inventory. Right on top was the roll of felt that cushioned her collection of gems and crystals. Below that was her TK-pistol and her flame sword, her digital recorder, her computer—though her face fell again when she pulled the 'puter out and found it smashed beyond repair. Goggles, sunglasses—those she slipped onto her face. Tool kit, Swiss-army knife, and the other assorted equipment and parts she used for her gadgets. A couple changes of clothing. Nothing was exactly where she'd left it, but nothing had been taken, either. Even her gems were all there—not that most of them were all that valuable except to someone like her.

There was a shout from somewhere in the forest. Deanna looked up, startled, but the older man put a reassuring hand on her shoulder as he called back. A minute later, a third man walked into the little camp, wrestling her bike along.

"My bike!" Deanna ran to the machine. "Oh, baby, what happened to you?"

The bike was in bad shape. A quick glance showed that it was in need of some body work and a new tire. A closer inspection revealed that it also needed a tune-up and a serious lube job. The three men watched with amusement as she crooned over the machine, stroking it like a lover. Finally she stood up and sighed.

"Well," she said, "I don't know how I got here, but I'm probably not leaving on this thing." She looked over to where the men were standing. "And you don't understand a word I'm saying, do you?"

The new arrival said something to his companions, and they laughed. Deanna didn't mind—the new guy was certainly easy the eyes. Not as smoothly handsome as the blond, he was big and brawny, with long black hair that shone with green highlights and an all-over tan that accentuated the muscles of his arms and chest. He wore what looked like a primitive breastplate of hide-covered steel, brown suede pants, and some kind of harness that suspended an axe—

—make that a really BIG axe—

—on his back. A little apprehensively, Deanna approached the trio and held out her hand.

"Hi," she said. "Uh, I guess you guys picked me up and put me back together, so I guess I owe you one. I'm Deanna McIssac."

The blond stepped forward and took her hand, but instead of shaking it, he bowed extravagantly and lightly kissed her fingers.

"Salus Taran," he said, laying a hand on his chest. Then he gestured to the older man. "Deos Talon." And finally to the barbarian. "Grimnyr."

"Right. Salus, Deos, and Grimnyr."

The older man interrupted her with a wince and a gesture of negation. "Talon," he said firmly.

"Talon." He nodded his head and took her hand, shaking it once, firmly. Then Grimnyr stepped forward and clasped her forearm for a moment before pointing to her bike and asking a question.

"That? Oh, that's my bike. You know, I use it to get around and—" Suddenly aware of the uncomprehending stares of the others, she clapped a hand to her forehead. "Geez, where's my brain! Okay, hold on a minute…"

Deanna pulled her digital recorder out of her backpack. The techno-wizardry she practiced was less flexible than that of a traditional wizard in that she needed some kind of focus for her spells. So she touched the "on" button and whispered the words of the tongues spell.

Talon watched as the girl closed her eyes and bowed her head. Her lips moved, and a faint white glow waved gently around her. The glow brightened with each syllable, and bluish highlights appeared. Earth Essence? he wondered. But no, it didn't have the distinctive "flavor" to his senses that elemental Essence did.

Deanna raised her head, and spied the glow. "Whoa…that's new," she said. She looked at the other three. "Did it work?"

"Did what work?" asked a startled Grimnyr.

Deanna grinned. "Cool! I guess it did." She looked from one man to the other. "So…which of you guys patched me up?"

Talon gave a little bow and puffed his pipe. "That would be me," he said. "Fortunately, I was quite near when you, er, arrived. I am Chosen of the Unconquered Sun, and one of the finest physicians in all of Creation."

Deanna blinked. "Uh…I'm not sure I understood all of that, but thanks. Y' know, you got some good mojo—even most spells leave scars."

Talon blinked in confusion, and Salus burst into a merry laugh. "I believe she was trying to give you a compliment, my love," he said. He turned back to Deanna. "You're welcome," he told her. "Though you really were very lucky, you know—Talon told me your injuries were quite severe. If he had not been there…" He let his words trail off, but Deanna got the picture. Instinctively she rubbed her side where that Deadboy had caught her full on. She'd known it was bad and had tried desperately to stay conscious, stay on the bike and keep moving, but she'd been filled with the certain knowledge that someone was going to have to take some bad news back to Mom.

"Well, thanks, anyway," she said.

"How did you get here?" asked Grimnyr suddenly.

"Through a Rift," she answered. Seeing the blank looks on their faces, she tried to explain. "Okay, you're a wizard, a magic user, right?" she asked Talon.

"I would say, sorcerer," he told her.

She nodded. "Okay, then you know how magic is everywhere, but it collects in some places, flows along certain paths."

Talon nodded. "Yes. We call them dragon lines."

"Dragon lines…hmm, has a nicer ring than 'ley-lines.' I'll have to remember that….Anyway, when two or more lines cross, it forms what we call a 'nexus.'"

Again Talon nodded. "Such places have great amounts of Essence. We typically build our great Manses there."

"Okay, you lost me with that bit, but yeah, there's usually a lot more power—Essence—there than other places. Well, a few hundred years ago, nobody paid a whole lot of attention to them until somebody, or several some bodies, used some kind of device or doomsday weapon that supercharged the ley-lines. The huge amounts of power literally ripped open holes in the space-time continuum. Gates to other places. Other dimensions, other worlds. Most of them have sealed up—but the biggest ones haven't, and it's always possible to open new ones under the right circumstances. So me and my pals got in a skirmish with some CS Deadboys, and there were spells flying and a line-storm going on, and I guess when it opened I just wasn't paying attention, so…here I am."

There was pause, and it was Grimnyr who asked the question she hadn't wanted to think about. "Can you get back?"

The girl seemed to shrink into her coat. "I don't know," she said in a very small voice. "Probably not by myself. Even if I could make the rift open again, there's no guarantee it would lead back to my dimension." She chewed on her lower lip for a moment. "I guess my pals could hire a shifter or something to look for me, if they figure out what happened. But that's even assuming they survived. I guess…I guess I'm stuck here. For a while at least."

Salus and Talon exchanged glances of sympathy, and then Salus laid a hand on her shoulder.

"I am certain your friends will not give up on you," he said positively. "And you seem to be no mean sorcerer yourself. Surely, if they cannot find you, you will find your way to them."

Deanna brightened a little at those words. "Yeah—I guess there's nothing stopping me from trying. 'Course, I'm basically a mechanical engineer, but I've got a pretty decent background in the electronic and electrical stuff, and even some resonance engineering. If I can figure out what I need…and if I can get the parts…" Her voice trailed of as she muttered to herself. Salus interrupted her gently.

"Perhaps now is not the time. I'm afraid that, gracious as his hospitality is, Talon is not set up for long-term company. We will need to find you a better place to stay." He turned to Grimnyr. "Perhaps in Chanta?"

Grimnyr shrugged. "As long as she's not afraid of heights."

"How far away is that?" Deanna asked.

"Perhaps a week's travel," Salus told her.

"Oh." Anxiety colored her voice. "I was kind of hoping to stay closer—you know, in case they do come looking."

Salus turned to Talon. "Perhaps another tent could be pitched," he suggested.

Talon frowned thoughtfully as he emptied his pipe. "Perhaps," he said. "For a time. But the energies of an untamed demesnes often have unusual side effects on mortals."

Deanna shrugged. "Yeah, I know—weirdness happens on the nexuses. But I'd rather stay close if I can. And less weirdness seems to happen to wizards—maybe just because we're used to handling the overflow." She turned pleading eyes on Talon. "So can I stay here, please?"

Faced with such an artless appeal, Talon did the only thing he could. "Very well," he said. "But if you're in the way—or if I see any signs that my demesnes is harming you in any way—you'll have to find somewhere else to stay."

She nodded. "Fair enough."

A week later, Deanna had a pretty cozy set-up. Salus, with a flourish worthy of a stage magician, had produced a small tent of purple striped silk. It had taken three days to get rid of the heavy scent of sandalwood. When asked, Salus had simply said that he had frequently used it "when I was single." Then Talon had given a discrete cough, and Deanna had decided it was none of her business what he'd done in the tent. Talon had let her keep the fur, and between that and the survival blanket Badger had insisted she carry, she was quite cozy at night. Grimnyr came by every day or two with food. There was a small pool nearby that Talon had shown her. It was apparently spring-fed and would have been pure misery to bathe in, but small-scale fire-type spells served to warm it up nicely—not to mention the trouble they saved her getting her fire lit. Toting water to wash her clothes in was harder, but the small chores of living kept her mind off of her other problems.

Namely, that she wasn't getting anywhere with either the bike or the rift. Grimnyr had helped her bang most of the dents out of the bike, but nobody in this dimension seemed to have heard of either rubber tires or machine oil. When she'd asked for grease she had been offered a choice between vegetable oil and animal fat. And even if she had managed to get petroleum-based oil, without another tire she wasn't going anywhere.

The rift was an even more complicated matter. In theory, she could build a device that would open the rift, and keep it open for at least a few minutes. But if tires and oil were foreign concepts to these people, electronics was completely beyond them. Mechanics they understood, to a point. But chips, circuits—even diodes and transistors were completely unheard of. They didn't even seem to have discovered the dry cell battery.

But she had some ideas about that. She had just come from her bath and was letting her hair dry by the small campfire, and she had found an unexpected treasure in her knapsack. In the very bottom, packed in a vacuum-sealed box, was a batch of her mother's sugar cookies. She munched happily as she doodled designs for water- and wind-wheels on the thick vellum Talon had given her in exchange for a couple of graphite sticks. Talon had been intrigued by the idea of an erasable writing medium. She thought he might be equally interested in a renewable power source for his manse. She realized that if she was going to be stuck here, she'd better figure out a way to make herself useful, instead of a burden.

Wait 'til I show him the light bulb, she chuckled.

Movement caught her eye, and she looked up expecting to see Grimnyr or Talon. She choked, spraying cookie crumbs across her plans when she saw the huge green-pelted saber-toothed cat that watched her from across the clearing, switching its tail lazily.

She froze instinctively, hoping it would just go away. Instead it stood up and stretched, then padded casually toward her.

"N-nice kitty," Deanna squeaked. Her eyes darted around the clearing, but there really wasn't anywhere to go. The tent wouldn't hold up against a single swipe of those massive claws, and even if she could climb a tree, she doubted that she could reach one before it caught her. And couldn't cats climb trees? As the great cat, which outweighed her by at least fifty pounds, approached, she scrambled for the words to the flying spell.

But whether it was because she was too nervous, or just because she couldn't find an appropriate focus, she remained firmly on the ground as the beast padded closer. It was close enough now for her to see the variegated golden green of its eyes, and to count the whiskers that flourished luxuriantly on its muzzle.

"Nice kitty," she gasped again, groping for the hilt of her flame sword. "Want a cookie?"

The huge feline sniffed the air in her direction, then stretched out its neck and with surprising delicacy nipped the cookie from her outstretched fingers. Deanna held her breath nervously as it swallowed the treat in one gulp. A low rumbling filled the clearing as it sat down on its haunches and licked its whiskers.

Ohmigod, she realized. It's purring!

Still holding her breath, she stretched out a shaking hand, ready to snatch it back at the first hint of aggression. The broad head was smooth and warm under her trembling fingers. The cat's purr grew louder under the diffident caress. Encouraged, Deanna released the breath she'd been holding and leaned forward to stroke its ears. It really was a beautiful animal. Its fur was deep green, with dark brown stripes—like the hide she'd been sleeping under, she realized.

A low chuckle startled her, and Deanna looked up to see Grimnyr's mate Virtuous Guardian standing there with part of an animal carcass. The woman's body was covered in a complicated pattern of scars and silver tattoos. Scarification made her face resemble a snake's, enhanced by the tiny sharp fangs that showed clearly in her mouth. Deanna had the vague impression that she was something like a Native American totem warrior, with powers derived from her connection with an animal spirit.

A little embarrassed without really knowing why, Deanna pulled her hand away. "I—he just showed up a minute ago," she explained. "I guess he's tame—is he yours?"

"Tame?" Virtuous Guardian raised an eyebrow at the word. "I should say not. Nor does he belong to me—or to anyone else. Here," she said, holding out the meat. "Grimnyr sends you part of his day's catch."

Deanna gingerly took the meat, keeping a wary eye on the cat still sitting not a foot away from her. "Thanks," she said. "I'll cook this up tonight." The cat's rumbling purr grew louder again, as if he approved. "Uh…you're not going to steal my dinner are you?" she asked the animal. "Because if you are, I'm not going to argue with you, but I might go vegan from now on."

The cat rose haughtily and ambled away across the clearing, giving Deanna ample opportunity to see that he was indeed male. Virtuous Guardian watched with a curious twist of her lips. It looked suspiciously like a smirk.

"What's so funny?" Deanna demanded.

Instead of answering, Guardian turned and quietly left the clearing.

"Thanks for nothing," Deanna grumped.

"Just what did you think you were doing?"

Virtuous Guardian spoke to the cat, but instead of the cat, a man now stood there. He was tall and brawny and roughly handsome, with thick green hair that flowed over bronze-tanned shoulders. His eyes were still distinctly feline, green slit-pupiled orbs flecked with gold, and a restless tail still twitched behind him. Whorls of silver decorated his body, similar but not identical to the ones that Virtuous Guardian displayed.

He smiled, showing strong white teeth. "Just examining the outlander for myself," he said. "Since it is my territory."

"Was your territory," Virtuous Guardian reminded him. "Need I remind you that Talon defeated you?"

Fox Clever Hunter waved a hand, as if to negate Talon's claim. "He cheated."

"He tricked you," Guardian said acidly. "Not the same thing at all. And shame on you for allowing it."

Because she was right, and because although he enjoyed baiting his former lover he didn't want to cause her any real trouble, Hunter merely shrugged. "Anyway, I came to see her for myself."

"In disguise? She knows nothing of our ways and what we can do. Admit it—you were baiting Talon."

"Well, yes." Hunter grinned broadly at the thought. "But you have to admit—she is intriguing."

"What do you mean by that?"

"She offered me a cookie."

"A cookie." Virtuous Guardian stared at Hunter as if he'd handed her a live fish.

"Yes." His grin softened a little. "She was afraid—I could smell her fear—but she offered me a cookie."

"Brave."

"Yes. Pretty, too."

Exasperated, Virtuous Guardian rolled her eyes. "I should have known."