Chapter Eleven

Reminiscence

Uktar 1480 DR

Neverwinter Wood

The darkened forest passed in a blur as the forest cat cut a speedy path through leafless knotted and twisted trees. Dried yellow and brown brushwood crunched beneath her every step. The thrill of a chase was exhilarating. For the panther held not human faults. Never in her half-elven body could Zelyra have done anything like this. It was a shame the form would only hold for an hour. She could spend days exploring the cat's senses, abilities.

After months of meditation, the druid had tapped into her beast shaping ability at long last. Bael, the Circle of Sword's beast master, had grown frustrated with her lack of progress as of late, but Laucian never once doubted her. The transformed druid continued bounding and springing over gnarled roots and thorny underbrush for some time before her heightened sense of smell caught the scent of another. It was an appealing scent—musk, mixed with wet earth and pine—humanoid in nature. And male, definitively male. Zelyra wasn't sure exactly how she knew that, but she did.

Her feline ears twitched in alert as the branches in a tree above rustled. Then came a flash of grey fabric. One of the rangers was following her, Zelyra realized. If a panther could grin…

Zelyra slowed her pace, allowing her pursuer to close the distance.

There was only a split second to react as a cloaked figure dropped from the trees above, landing with light-footed grace directly in her path. Zelyra pounced, crashing into them with enough force to send the pair careening to the ground in a twisted heap of leathers, sticks, crunching leaves, and sleek golden fur. The figure, a half-elven male, made an instinctive attempt to roll from beneath her, but in her panther form, Zelyra was faster. The feline dug her claws into the dirt on either side of his head and peered down into a familiar pair of bright blue eyes, her teeth bared in delight. [1]

She took a deep breath, expecting to smell fear wafting from her prey. But instead, Zelyra was struck with that same dank scent, amplified now due to their proximity. The scent, comforting, like the Wood after a fresh rainfall, swirled within her nostrils, overwhelming her already heightened senses. The druid lost all other train of thought as she crouched further, sniffing him curiously.

The ranger's expression was blank, unimpressed. "Zelyra. Get off me," he ordered.

A low growl formed in the back of her throat and her tail thrashed back and forth in irritation. How did he know? And why was he trying to ruin her fun? She was still adjusting to—

In a swift display of equal parts strength and agility, the ranger twisted one leg around her torso, locked his arms around her front legs and flipped them. When they settled, he locked his legs on either side of her and sat directly on her torso, limiting any movement she dared to make. The ranger dipped his head low, outright scowling now with disapproval. As he did so, the tips of his unbound, shoulder length dark hair brushed her nose. Zelyra never would have guessed whiskers could be so sensitive. She sneezed, sending a spray of feline snot straight into his face.

To his credit, the ranger did not bat an eyelash to the glob of thick saliva dribbling down his chin. Instead, he snarled, "You know the rules. You shouldn't have ventured so far from the village."

Her control over the panther form unfortunately waned then. Zelyra found herself reverting to her half-elven body. But strangely, the strong scent remained. Curious. [2]

"How did you know it was me, Varan?"

Zelyra already knew the answer but asked all the same. Her brother's childhood best friend had the uncanny ability to make an appearance whenever she was about to do something stupid or precarious. It was as if he had a sixth sense for it. Before, his protective behavior had been a favor to her brother, Zelphar. Now, it was his duty. The sentries were the eyes and ears of the forest. They knew every coming and going. And it was their responsibility to both defend and keep their village secret at all costs.

"You've been trying to take that form for months," Varan muttered distractedly. "And I've never seen any forest cat with eyes as green as yours." The ranger rolled back on his heels, making a point to put a safe amount of distance between them.

"Not just any cat—a panther!" Zelyra corrected, smirking as she sat up and began removing bits of dead leaves and stray twigs from her golden braid. "I suppose I make a pretty feline, don't I?"

Varan dodged the baited question. Zelyra was acting weird. Well, weirder than normal anyway. "Why were you smelling me?" he demanded.

For a moment, Zelyra considered lying but she couldn't pass up an opportunity to make him blush. Perhaps it was nothing more than the adrenalin rush from her run, but the druid felt foolheartedly brave as she confessed, "You smell good." To her delight, the mask cracked—precisely as she'd hoped. Red instantly stained Varan's cheeks, his neck, the points of his arched ears.

"I…smell good?"

Zelyra nodded as she leaned forward and took another exaggerated whiff in jest. The proximity sent Varan spiraling in another involuntary fit of embarrassment. So much so that the long, pinkened childhood scar that marred the right side of his face all but disappeared.

"You're strange," he grumbled.

"You like it," she refuted.

"You shouldn't have come out here alone," Varan chastised as he rose to his feet and held out a hand to help her stand. Despite the chivalrous gesture, he couldn't look her in the eye. And further damning, the flush remained on his cheeks and neck. The ranger battled to squash the unwanted emotion as he asked, "Does Laucian know?"

"He—no, my father doesn't know. But I wasn't alone," Zelyra countered, accepting the proffered hand with a playful grin. "Peanut is with me."

As if to prove the point, the fey mouse peeked his little head out of his usual hiding place within the nape of Zelyra's braid and squeaked.

"Peanut does not count," Varan said.

Zelyra shrugged. "I knew you'd find me eventually."

Varan breathed heavily in and out of his nose. It was so easy for him to forget how young Zelyra was, in both physical age and experience. Such was the curse of being only half elven. The body matured at a quicker rate than the mind. At nineteen, Zelyra was quickly approaching the cusp of adulthood. But her behavior at present showed far too much childlike innocence.

It was no fault of her own, Varan knew. Zelyra had been relatively sheltered all of her life. For even when she and her brother had been forced to the streets as children, Zelyra had been unknowingly protected by both the shadowy dealings of Zelphar and a network of thieves. And now, among the Circle, there were plenty of watchful eyes between Laucian, the masters, other druids, the sentries, and of course, Varan himself. Zelyra did not know what it was like to truly be on her own, to have no one watching her back. And she certainly did not know what it was like to be forced to grow up too fast as Varan himself had. Thus, the ranger chose his next words with care.

"You can't rely on me to always be there to protect you," he warned. "One of these days you will get yourself killed if you don't stop to think before you act." The words tasted like ash in his mouth. But Varan saw at once they had the impact he intended. Zelyra's bravado crumpled to guilt.

Laucian had limited her access to the forest without escort for a reason. Neverwinter Wood was dangerous. The Circle did not quite understand what was causing it, but the sickness that lie beyond the protection of their wards was gradually getting worse. Everything about the forest—from the swirling mists to the twisted trees, even the creatures that inhabited it—aimed to trick, to deceive, to cloud one's senses. Zelyra was still in training to face those dangers. She knew only a handful of spells and had only just managed to beast shape for the first time. If something else would have crossed her path, and Varan hadn't been tracking her—well, there wouldn't have been much she could have done to defend herself.

Zelyra knew that Varan was right. Just as he always was.

Varan swallowed thickly, his Adam's apple bobbing as he struggled for words. Eventually, he gave up on speech entirely and fell back on old habits by bringing his hands up between them.

"I'm sorry," he signed stiffly. "But I don't want you hurt. I've…seen it happen before."

As his nimble fingers drew out the final words, something abruptly changed in Varan's demeanor. Anger swept across his features, so fierce and so consuming it sent a shiver down the druid's spine. And yet, Zelyra knew this anger was not directed at her for the ranger looked through her, not at her, as if trapped in some terrible vision.

Perhaps he was.

Varan had never said exactly how he'd come to live amongst the druids, almost entirely mute and alone, and at such a young age…but Zelyra had her suspicions. The tusk that the ranger wore around his neck was telling. The druid reached out and gently brushed her fingertips across his hands, which presently were balled up into tight fists. "I understand," she breathed to him. "I won't come out here alone again. I promise."

Varan blinked. And when his attention focused, it was Zelyra that he saw. Not the broken body of the mother he could not save. He was back in the present.

The ranger relaxed his fists. "It's getting late. You should return to the village."

Zelyra nodded, taking note that the already dim forest was getting that much darker. "Will you walk back with me?" she asked after a breath.

His mouth twisted with reluctance and Varan again saw the impact that it had. Her shoulders slumped. Zelyra feared he would say no. And she was right too, after all. Why should he further skirt his duty for pleasure? And yet, they had so little time together as it was. It wasn't shirking his duty—was it, if he was escorting a druid safely back to the village?

The ranger glanced to the treetops as just the slightest hint of a smirk appeared on his lips. "I'll race you to the holly tree," he countered. Varan didn't wait for her response. In a blink, he had already scaled one of the large trees before them.

"Those damn boots," Zelyra groaned as she watched Varan race across the spindly boughs with speed and skill that defied what any person should have been capable of doing. The magic boots he proudly wore had been his gift from the masters upon taking up the Oath of the Sentry. It was best not to let him get too far ahead. [3]

The first transformation had been painful. The second was not. Her body had already adapted to the new magic. After a moment of focus and concentrated breathing, Zelyra's bones popped and cracked as her half-elven body reformed. A great forest cat with golden fur and piercing green eyes soon appeared in its place.

In the panther form her sight was sharp and focused, her sense of smell impeccable. This time, she was the huntress. The feline took a deep breath to mark the ranger's scent as she experimentally stretched her claws in the dirt. And then she pounced, dashing after the ranger with a burst of speed.

To Varan's credit, they were neck and neck nearly the entire way. It wasn't until they were a few hundred feet from the village wards, when Varan was forced to exit the trees and run on foot, that he began to fall behind.

Zelyra burst through a point in the path—a large thorny brush pile that should have stopped the feline in her tracks—but as she seemingly crashed into it, there was nothing but air. The druid blindly felt her way through the illusion, an effect of the masters' mirage arcane spell, taking the precise route that had been taught to her the moment she began her training. All the while, Varan was at her heels.

In a matter of minutes, the fog lifted. Dying vegetation and thorny underbrush gave way to healthy, soaring trees and lush green grasses. The oppressive gloom of Neverwinter Wood fell away. The kind of warmth one felt in their very bones replaced it. Blue and green tinted, twinkling orbs of light illuminated the dim interior. Spiraled staircases and vined bridges connected one tree to the next. Small, partially enclosed ringed platforms covered in furs and hides were nestled within the trees' massive boughs.

They were home. Having successfully navigated the wards, they had officially entered the City of Towering Trees. Or as the wood elves called it, Taras Aldar.

Various elves clad in leathered armors, hide, and earth toned suedes looked up from their respective tasks as the golden panther and hooded ranger ran at full speed for a large holly tree at the very center of the village. If it were anywhere other than Taras Aldar, this likely would have been a strange occurrence. But amongst shapeshifting druids…well, the sight only held their attention for only a split second.

Zelyra was the victor. Varan bent at the waist and rested his hands to his knees, panting heavily but graciously accepted defeat. The druid had a sneaking suspicion that he had let her win, though. Between his boots and a bit of magic to lengthen his stride, there was no reason the ranger should not have beaten her.

As she reverted to her half-elven form, the druid heard lighthearted clapping. Zelyra turned and found the tall, noble form of her father standing just a few paces away. Laucian's storm cloud eyes were lit with mirth and his ageless face was utterly serene. He was dressed in his usual reddish-brown leathers accented by dark green embroidered suede and white furs. And his circlet, a thick leather band formed in the shape of a crown of leaves, set upon a head of long hair the color of endless night.

"Bael would be impressed," the elder called out. "You bested his star pupil."

"She's fast in that form," Varan complimented with a slight wheeze.

Zelyra waited nervously for Varan to rat out her impulsive adventure. But the ranger had no such intention. He instead excused himself, citing the need to return to the outposts. Both Laucian and Zelyra invited him to stay for just a while longer to rest and share a meal, but Varan would have none of it. His duty called. Thus, Zelyra offered the ranger a small wave as he and his grey cloak disappeared into the illusion of the wards once more.

That was how their friendship had been since he was offered the oath. Varan disappeared just as quickly as he appeared. But if Zelyra needed him, he was never far. She could only hope that when the ranger had more experience and had risen through the sentry's ranks, he wouldn't have to try so hard to prove himself. Perhaps one day, they would have more time. In the meantime, she would commit the warning he'd given her to memory. Think before you act.

Laucian rested a steady hand on Zelyra's shoulder before steering them towards the mead hall, which was incidentally, the only grounded structure in the village. [4] And though he said not a word to his adopted daughter, Laucian had a fairly good idea what had happened. It was not often that Varan left the outposts. It typically took a direct summons or the actions of a certain someone to call the dedicated sentry away.

There came a time in every druid's life when they were called away from their Circle. Laucian's journey had followed the death of his wife. He spent countless years on the road alone until one day, by chance he found Zelyra and Zelphar on the streets in the city of Neverwinter. A decade had passed since then. In that time, Laucian had come to love Zelyra as he would his own flesh and blood. Her chance for adventure would come. But as any parent was right to, Laucian feared for that day. For the elder could only pray Zelyra's impulsiveness and blind loyalty would not come back to bite her—as it had her older brother.

This chapter is obviously set five years in the past. For those curious, the month of Uktar's common name is The Rotting and coincides with what we would consider November.

[1] In game, I always described Zelyra's forest cat form as being a black panther. But I better like the idea of Zelyra's animal forms taking aspects of her half-elf form. Zelyra has golden hair and green eyes. If she wild shapes into a shark, she'd be a weird gold shark, and so forth. I got the idea from a post I saw on Pinterest about setting limits for shapeshifting characters. They cited the example of Beast Boy from Young Justice/Teen Titans: "he can transform into a lot of animals, yes, but they're all obviously green and unnatural, making it difficult for him to blend in with other animals." I thought that was an interesting mechanic and rolled with it.

[2] Another head cannon of mine with the beast shaping ability is a side effect of heightened smell. Many of the forms a druid can take have advantage on perception checks that rely on smell. Since beast shaping is a part of who they are, I like to think that sensitivity never fully leaves them.

[3] The official magic item equivalent to what Varan wears is Slippers of Spider Climbing. But…I can't imagine that slippers would be very practical for a hunter who ambushes people from the treetops. Thus, I changed them to boots.

[4] A mead hall in the middle of a village full of wood elves? Yup. I designed Taras Aldar with a mixture of Lothlorien and a Nordic settlement in mind. As strange of a combination it might be, that was my inspiration so…be prepared. I blame my deep sated love for both Lord of the Rings and How to Train Your Dragon for influencing this nonsense.

Surprise! Two chapters posted at once. While our campaign was still ongoing, I wrote several short stories concerning Zelyra's life before the Underdark. I always felt like this one would slip in well after Demogorgon's attack. Zelyra did not heed Varan's advice. She impulsively ran off into the Underdark after her father and look where that has gotten her at present—running from the Prince of Demons himself. I don't usually care for flashbacks in my own writing. But in making this its own chapter, I hope it works?

Character art of both Varan and Laucian has been added to my Tumblr page. :) Link on my profile. Varan was easy. A single piece of art inspired much of his character—not mine, unfortunately. Laucian is more complicated because all I can envision when I think of his character is a druid version of Lord Elrond. I never have been able to find or make anything that I feel properly depicts him. Maybe one day.

The song "Run Free (Instrumental)" by Thomas Bergersen/Two Steps from Hell was the inspiration for this chapter. When I heard the song for the first time it made me think of Zelyra bounding through Neverwinter Wood in her first beast form, and for some reason Varan was chasing after her in the trees, and…well, word vomit happened.

Next chapter, back to Sloobludop.