Hidden Talents

[Crue Sarish]

As she sat in her bamboo cage at the bottom of the cold, hopeless pit, Crue regretted many of the things that had happened in the last day.

She?d been unable to aid the wounded Chak, instead having to keep her distance as the mongooses carried him back to the village. More so, she regretted having to question whether or not he actually wanted to heal the slavedriver in the first place. It was one thing to take the life of a mongoose in an act of self-preservation, but to even consider standing idly by while a beast slipped out of this world and into the next went against her very nature.

She'd been unable to tell Robert much about her brief sighting of Scully in the jungle. The ?monkoozers? had kept talking to a minimum on their way to their village, though Tooley did mention that he had not sighted the hare.

She had been overjoyed to see more of her fellow woodlanders show up, even if they were all imprisoned. She had been lowered into a cage with a hare in a dilapidated uniform by the name of Twilbee, and with the next influx of captives she discovered that a half dozen others had survived as well, including Colonel Swiftpaw. He was surviving, but had barely recovered from the events aboard the corsair vessel. She wished she could climb over to check on him, but every time she reached the top of her cage, the fear of being caught kept her in check.

She had heard the shouts as Reedox raged against Chak. When the altercation abruptly stopped, Crue could not see what had ended it and Rob refused to enlighten her. The mongooses had done nothing to stop the fight, obviously not caring if they killed each other in their cages, and she regretted having been unable to do more to stop it.

Scattered in among her regrets, she reminded herself that hope was not lost. She would continue to help the beasts in this pit, even the vixen and ferret who shared a cell next to her with the former Lieutenant Wrightbones. At this point she would even help the traitorous Scully. If fate was kind, she might even save them.

The longer she dwelled on the notion of saving her fellow prisoners, the more she felt she needed to act, regardless of her present fears. She chewed her lip nervously and glanced at Rob, who sat in the cell to her left. She drew close, keeping her voice low, ?If I climb to the top and discover a path out of the village, would you get everyone out??

Rob looked up toward the top of the pit. "Tha's a bit of a tall order, Miss Crue. Those beasts be a bit swift fer some of us."

Crue glanced around at the beasts that were in her visual range, wondering which ones would stand a chance of actually making it out of the village. "I cain't argue with that, but even if a few make it out, that'd be a few who wouldn' be sent to this Fire God they keep goin' on about."

Robert nodded as he followed her logic. "Aye, that be true." He shrugged his shoulders as he continued, "An' these beasts seem more inclined t' save us for their god. They might not kill us fer tryin t' escape."

"I agree." She put her paws on her hips and looked up toward the top of the pit as her mind started forming the bare bones of an actual plan. "I'll find a way out, Mister Rosequill."

*******

Crue?s eyes cast about for a path out of the village, a difficult task in the quickly fading light. She turned her head to the left when she noticed four male mongoose pups casually sauntering over to the hut outside of which sat the offerings for the Fire God: weapons, bits off of the Waverunner?s uniforms, a rather sizable red gem, one of Crue?s silver buttons, and even Tooley?s hat. Crue watched curiously as they gazed around at everything but the offerings, scuffing their feet in the dirt, and even humming softly before one of them reached down and grabbed an item from the pile. With a gasp, she realized that it was one of Scully's arrows, the arrowhead briefly reflecting nearby torchlight back into Crue's eyes as they ran off with it.

Had it been a grown beast, Crue might have simply let him go about his business and discover the poison for himself. The children, however, could not be aware of the danger that simple object had put them in. She pulled herself the rest of the way out of the pit and began to run after the pups. "Stop!" she cried out. "Come back!"

Her cries brought her a great deal of attention, and before she knew it a dozen beasts had sprung out of their dens and she was being restrained by numerous paws. They spoke in their strange accented dialect, wondering how she made it out of the pit, but before they could begin to haul her back she pleaded, "Your children took something dangerous! It can kill them if mmhmpf-"

A paw roughly clamped her mouth shut. She stared up at the beast, willing him to hear her warning thoughts.

They held her there for a short time, but eventually the four pups were brought back, their young leader still carrying the arrow. He wore a chagrined expression and stated, "Vy you not let me tek teeny spear, papi? Te Fiyah Gott no needuh it.?"

"You not speak fer te Fiyah Gott, Kodeh!? the elder mongoose stated. ?Keefts fer heem!"

"Tis is veak keeft!" To punctuate his outburst, he playfully stabbed in the direction of one of his cohorts. He didn't count on actually hitting his friend, nor did he realize just how sharp the tip was, and elicited a cry of pain from the pup.

Before the shock of injuring his friend could set in, the adult snatched the arrow from his grasp and shoved the young upstart to the ground, baring his fangs and hissing in anger. His tan fur stood on end, making the tall beast even larger.

Crue?s focus remained on the injured youth. Biting the hand of the mongoose who held her, she shouted out in the brief moment he released his hold.. "He will die if I don't help him!"

"Tek teeny beastah back t? pit, Eshki," one mongoose commanded, addressing the one who held her.

"He was poisoned! He will die!" Tears leaked from her eyes as she realized that there was practically nothing she could do to convince them of the truth.

Eshki laughed, a deep throaty chuckle that Crue felt in her bones. "Monkoozers not die by venom, ayah! No snekk ken kill us, fool beastah."

Her mind worked quickly to try and find a means to reason with them, but before she knew what she was saying, the words left her mouth. "I have seen his death! A... snake from a far away land will take your child from you!"

The grips on her limbs softened ever so slightly. The villagers now looked at her curiously. "How you see tis?"

She paused, her words failing her. She stared off into the distance as she searched for something to say. "I... I... had a dream last night! A... snake changed its form and became a spear, and when two children came by, it bit one of them. The child fell asleep and nothing the other child could do would wake him."

Most of the eyes that met her's were still skeptical. ?Smell the spear and you will see!? It took some effort not to add ?idiots.?

The one who held the arrow lifted it and sniffed, its nose wrinkling in distaste. He looked back in her direction. "Is surika, ayah! It holdah strenge venom." She nodded and his face fell. He looked back at the youth who was holding a paw over the wound on his right arm, and the pup began to mirror his senior's look of concern.

"I can heal him," Crue declared.

The elder mongoose walked over to her and signaled for the others to release her. She stood up and looked him in the eye.  ?You bringah new snekk een our midst,? he stated. ?If te pickapik grow sick, how weel you heelah him?"

Crue hadn't quite planned that far. She thought back to the way one would cure hemlock poisoning in Mossflower and she looked down at her soiled apron. She pulled out a pawful of the squashed fruit and held them up. "I need more of these."

As a few of the villagers were sent out to bring them, she sneaked a quick glance back toward the pit where her friends and fellow prisoners were still being held. She knew that eventually they would be taken away from here, but if Crue were to provide an effective enough distraction, Robert or one of the other prisoners might see the opportunity for them to escape. She only hoped they'd take it.

She would have a couple of hours before the effects of the hemlock was irreversible. In order to buy time, Crue would have to be more than just a healer. She would have to get the whole village involved, and that meant getting creative...

She stifled a groan.

*******

"You must engage all the senses! You can't simply offer them bad tasting medicine or strong-scented vapors to breathe. They must be able to touch and see and hear to experience the whole healing. They need to believe in the cure.?

"You don't need all that! It just wastes time and you end up giving them the same medicine you were going to anyway."

He stopped polishing his boots just long enough to nod and shrug. "That's true, my dear, but that approach is so impersonal. It lacks the gravitas that makes the patient feel like you're truly attending to them personally. Anyone else watching must also trust that you're taking the matter seriously."

Crue scoffed, her paws toying with the fur at the top of the other squirrel?s head. "You can't gain trust through a show, love. As I continue to make people well, my reputation will garner their trust."

"Can't gain trust through a show, eh?" He turned and swept up the young squirrel into his arms. He spun three times, just enough to get them slightly dizzy, before he leaned in and planted a kiss on her cheek. His dark eyes stared deeply into her own. "It worked on you."


*******

Crue sat before the fire, paws pressed together before her chest and head bowed. Her ears twitched ever so slightly, causing the two bright green feathers on her head to twitch as well. The red cloak she now wore rustled in the soft breeze that passed through the village. Bone bracelets sat quietly on her wrists, waiting to clatter. Her tail was wrapped with cords of brown, blue, and yellow, and a rattle of tiny shells had been attached to the end. A necklace of stones and small bird skulls ringed her neck, and Tooley?s tattered hat completed the ensemble.

She?d taken over an hour to make sure everything was properly prepared, sneaking glances in the direction of her unseen friends whenever she could, hoping that any minute now they?d start to make their way out. Now, under the cover of a large meeting hall lit by carefully placed torches, she waited for the small fire to grow to the proper height for her task. A crowd of about thirty mongooses attended the ceremony, with the now obviously ill mongoose and his parents sitting on a woven mat to provide some comfort for their son as they waited.

Once she was satisfied with the fire, she held a bowl of smoking leaves around the hall with one paw, and carried a cooking pot by its handle with the other. She worked quickly to collect the pits from each of the attendant mongooses, having them spit into the pot while she waved the smoke before their faces, the sweet scent filling the air before them. She collected the first round and returned to the fire for the second bowl of leaves. Once it began smoking, she repeated the process until she was certain that she had an adequate number of pits to work with. She carefully set the second bowl down on the ground, put the pits onto the fire, and began.

She slowly stirred once, then twitched her tail to rattle the shells.

She stirred again, and twitched her tail to rattle the shells. A small trail of smoke began to lift out of the pot.

She stirred again, and twitched her tail to rattle the shells. The crowd joined in with their own rattles and drums, diligently following the rhythm she set. Raising her voice, she began to sing her song at a slow, even pace.

"Stir the pot, simmer slow,
Watch now how its contents glow!

Cook the seeds, roast the pits,
Broken body the Healer knits.

Ha-la-la-do, Ha-la-la-de,
In dreams of mine your futures be.

Breathe the smoke, dull the pain,
Soon you'll feel yourself again.

Purge the poison, make you sweat,
Heed the healer, feel no regret.

Ha-la-la-do, ha-la-la-de,
Trust my song and trust in me.

Courage child, have no fear,
The time of healing is drawing near.

I will not fail, you will not fall,
And you will come back to us all!

Ha-la-la-do, ha-la-la-de,
Come closer, all, to taste and see.?

As if on cue, the contents of the cooking pot let out a loud crack, and then another, and then another. Looking into the pot, she saw that the pits were now turning black and slightly oily. She wondered if that was normal, but it was too late to go back now. She continued to stir and shake the rattles, moving around the pot with her free paw outstretched dramatically, shaking whenever more popping took place.

When she was satisfied that the pits were sufficiently dry, she called for silence and began to smash the pits with a stone pestle. All of the mongooses were leaning forward, watching curiously. More smoke continued to flow out of the pot and she figured that she was nearly finished. In the heat of the cook-fire she wiped away a bead of paint-filled sweat before it entered her eye, making sure it didn?t fall into the pot.

She crushed and stirred, crushed and stirred, making sure she didn?t miss any of the pits. Once she was satisfied with the consistency she struck the side of the metal pot with her pestle three times, letting the last peal ring out into the air. Once the crackling within the pot returned as the prominent sound, she motioned for the water to be brought forth.

A great plume of steam rushed out of the pot as the cool water slowly met the hot stone. The scent of the cooked pits followed the steam up and out, dispersing amongst the crowd who inquisitively sniffed the air. Crue found the smell to be more pleasant than she was anticipating. Waiting for the drink to brew, she had time to appreciate the scent, finding it both enlivening and comforting much like a colorful sunrise after a good night?s sleep.

Once the water was boiling and had turned nearly black, she decided that the mixture was done. She took an empty bowl and scooped up some of the liquid before she peered over at the young mongoose. He was struggling a little to keep his eyes open. Her heart going out to the youth, she looked down at the bowl in her paws and felt a brief moment of doubt. She was fairly certain this would work, but she had no way to be sure.

She lifted the bowl into the air, careful not to spill any as the bone bracelets traveled up her arms. Looking up, she was struck with the memory of another healer doing the same thing. This one had worn a shirt with long black sleeves, falling back to expose the mouse?s wrists as he held the glass bowl toward the light. Crue, too, had not known if this mixture of herbs would be the key to curing Ellie Sarish, but the mouse had hope. A small, hopeful smile crossed his lips as he approached the young squirrel who lay in bed, her eyes flickering in an attempt to stay awake. One more medicine for her sister to try. Perhaps this would finally be the one?

She blinked a few times to clear the image. No! she told herself. This is not the same? Her footpaws took her in the direction of her patient. This is going to work!

When she was halfway to the youth, she stopped and lifted the bowl near her lips to see if it had cooled enough to drink. She gave the bowl just enough of a stir in her paws to try and make it cool down a little faster before she took a sip. A very dark and bitter flavor struck her tongue, but she kept her expression neutral. When she was next to the young mongoose, she helped him take a sip and watched as he cringed at the foul taste.

?Eugh!? he complained. ?Eet like dirt!?

?It will scare off the venom,? she explained, though she inwardly grumbled at such a superstitious explanation. ?Drink the whole thing.?

The youth complied and polished off the drink as quickly as the heat would let him. Once he finished, the healer took the bowl from his paws and set it aside. She took his paws in her own and helped him rise. Once he was standing, she led him back to her cook-fire and set about having him walk near the heat, making small circles to get his blood flowing so that the medicine would kick in a little faster.

Before long, he was holding his head a little higher and some of the life returned to his eyes. She smiled as the medicine continued to take hold. Motioning for the pup to stay where he was, she returned to the cooking pot - her accoutrements rustling noisily as she stepped - and administered a second dose. After that round had been consumed they continued walking slowly around the fire.

Once she felt comfortable that the concoction was doing its work, she stopped their walk and turned him so that he faced her. She examined his eyes and nose and mouth and then proceeded to remove the bandage on his arm. She used some of the water to wash off the charcoal and was glad to see that some of the redness had already subsided, though it was far from being completely healed. A large grin crossed her face, made even larger by the white paint that accented her mouth.

?He has been healed!? she proclaimed, raising her paws triumphantly into the air.

She brought Drehm back to his parents, who had been watching the whole spectacle with bated breath. Presenting their son to them, she announced, ?He will need to drink more of that medicine later, but he will be fine.?

They stepped forward and looked their son over, obviously surprised by his quick recovery. ?How you feel, Drehm??

?Kood, papi! Arm still hurts, ayah, but not so bad.?

They examined the wound, and once they were satisfied that their son was truly on the mend, the father stood before Crue and put his large paws on her shoulders, the strength behind this gesture nearly making her take a step back. He then proceeded to shout for all to hear, ?I Dekeft, First Atilak ?mong monkoozers! I say tis beastah hes sehved mi son! He owe life debt to you. Me an? mi munga owe debt, too.?

She was about to correct them, to say that their gratitude was the only reward she required, but now was not the time to be altruistic. ?You are most welcome.?

Drehm stepped closer to his parents, his paws shaking slightly from the medicine, but not enough to worry her. Speaking more quietly, he stated, ?Ef she be given to te Fiyah Gott, how I pey debt??

Dekeft let his claws lightly brush his chin as he thought. After a minute of silence, he stood up and addressed the crowd. ?Need speakuh vit High Priest, ayah!?

Another minute passed and a tall, slightly hunched figure began making his way through the throng. Crue first noticed the tall white staff he carried, a viper skull affixed to the top. His robes were red with vertical lines of black, but this hood and the hem of his robes were made from golden snake skin. He wore three rows of necklaces: one of gems, one of bones, and one of snake fangs. His narrow gaze swept over the crowd - carefully avoiding looking at the squirrel - and then came to rest on Dekeft.

?Vat needing te attention of Shuga?? the High Priest asked, though his demeanor conveyed that he knew full well what was going on.

Dekeft stood before the High Priest, bowing his head in respect. ?Te life ef tis beastah need speered, Shuga. She heal mi son en he can not repay debt if she go t? mounteen.?

Shuga?s squinty eyes flitted between the First Hunter and the healer. He stood in thought for a short while before he stated, ?I ask te Fiayh Gott to speer tis beastah.?

Dekeft nodded, satisfied with the answer. ?I and mi munga te show her favah until you seek te Fiyah Gott.? He looked down at Crue and stated, ?Our next meal will honor you.?

The High Priest opened his mouth, but then shut it just as quickly. ?No, ayah! She hev next meal en mi den...? His eyes stared into Crue?s own and she had the feeling that he was calculating his next moves very carefully. This was a beast of both intelligence and ambition. ?She stay vith me. I? honor her wit you.?

Crue found herself ushered into the den of the High Priest shortly thereafter. Not only did they share a meal and speak of the Fire God and his favor of the mongoose tribe, but she was given a room in which she would be staying from that point on. When Shuga spoke to her, it was as one would speak to a pet that one found amusing, leaving her to assume that she had just become as much a captive as her cohorts in the pit. Despite her diversion, no attempt at escape had been made and she was sure that none of them would be getting away now.