The Interpreters

[Vin]

Scorpio, Lord Of Rain, Bringer Of Floods
Gila Monster
40s

[spoiler]Desperate claws scrambled for higher ground as storm clouds rumbled impatiently overhead. Precariously balanced atop the tall rock structures of a closed ravine, Scorpio reached towards the heavens from a clearing in the stone. Nothing. Nothing. And finally a droplet as his pursuer followed him in.

"Nowhere left to run," called the Ringbearer, unable to hide the hunger in his voice.

"I wouldn't have it any other way." Scorpio grinned down at his quarry. "Come to seek your fortune? I can tell right away what fate has in store for a fine young beast like you." He ducked; a stone from the hare's sling flew past his head. "You're going to die!"

"Says the sitting duck." The hare whirled around his loaded sling. "You're unarmed. Alone. And in no position to defend yourself. Lies and bluffery won't save you."

"Lies? Bluffery?" Scorpio hissed, shaking raindrops off his head. "I'm an Interpreter! We are oathbound to speak nothing but the truth." He ducked back behind the rock as the second stone whizzed past. "You still have Interpreters, surely? Or were you warmbloods so convinced of your own superiority that you discarded everything my clan ever built?"

"We tore it apart," the Ringbearer boasted, his voice raised so as to be heard over the storm. "Come down, lizard. Better a swift death than a slow one. I know you're wounded."

"Oh, really?" Scorpio put on a tone of surprise. "And what makes you think that? The blood on the ground?" The interpreter threw back his head, and laughed. "Did you really think that after so many moons on the run I would make a mistake so utterly juvenile?"

With a grunt, the hare let loose another projectile. Without missing a beat, Scorpio caught it.

"Don't you see? It was hubris. It always is! You were so convinced, so utterly blinded by your own glory hunting that you thought you could end me in one fell swoop. You didn't even consider that a beast of my talents could leave a trail knowing it would be found! Knowing it would be followed! Do you really think I'm the only thing that bleeds?" Scorpio let the sling stone clatter to the ground and chuckled. "The funny thing about my being a vengeful spirit is... I can't actually kill you! I'm an Interpreter! There are vows! We're bound by oath to remain aloof from the dealings of the world. Forbidden to interfere. Only to guide, but never to lead."

Lightning struck the desert and shook the cavern walls. The lizard's voice grew colder.

"So I guided you... to Death."

The hare growled and tossed his sling aside. Taking a running start, he threw himself at the base of Scorpio's perch, and slipped to the ground.

"Wet rock makes for poor climbing," Scorpio taunted. "While I wait for you to get up here, how about a little lesson?"

"Shut it, lizard!" the Ringbearer snarled.

Said lizard payed him no heed. "I'm sure you know all about the water cycle! The scorching rays of the sun turn our precious water into clouds. After every hot day a cloud is formed until the heavens can no longer hold it all in and it is released all at once! This is the phenomenon known as 'rain'."

A distant rumble, but not of thunder. Scorpio quickened his pace. It would not do to have the hare die before knowing the gravity of the situation. What fun was food if it couldn't be played with?

"We normally get very little of it, but every once in a while the heavens burst and it begins to pour, and I'm afraid your mother never told you why you should never follow a crazy old lizard into a cavern during a thunderstorm." The rumble was tumultuous. Scorpio shouted to be heard. "But don't worry, we still have time for me to explain it to you! You see, sand does not hold water well, so instead of going straight down it builds up momentum very quickly, and goes wherever it wants to."

The hare was ignoring him completely. Too little, too late.

"Seek higher ground when the rains come, or else you might be swept away. And unfortunately for you... I have the high ground."

The rumble grew deafening, and as if the ocean itself had come marching in, a wave burst into the canyon and slammed the hare against a wall. If that didn't kill him, the floating debris flash floods carried with them would. Failing that, he would drown in the rapidly rising current.

Scorpio clambered down and fished the discarded sling out of the water. "There's a joke to be made about drowning in a desert." As the rain pattered down ceaselessly, the lizard filled the cavern with the echoes of his laughter.[/spoiler]

Ixchel
Ocelot
35

[spoiler]Ixchel woke up, stretching her paws as the first beams of the sunlight creaked through her cave. Standing up to full height, she'd reach for her staff, carved as it was with strange markings, she smiled as they slightly reminded her of home.  Somebeast was at her door, she could tell easily by their scent, as her whiskers twitched. Stepping out into the light, she could see them more clearly, as she raised a paw to shield against the light of the sun.

"You're early," The Ocelot would reply to the jackrabbit standing at the entrance. He was an older beast, one with iron on his wrists, denoting him as being of the Ring. He stepped forward again, a bundle in his arms, as he laid down a basket of prickly pear that had been stripped of its thorns. Ixchel gave it a cursory glance as she nodded.

The cat would walk to the side, where there was a clearing in the sagebrush. As she directed the rabbit to sit, she'd take out a stick, looking at where the sun was sitting in the sky. The rabbit raised an eyebrow, as she'd explain. "The Gash are many, although hidden from you. In the canyons they lurk, desperate for a reprieve from your gaze." She smiled slightly at him as the stick would be held outward, and she'd place tokens, strange carved shapes from the southern lands in a semi circle.

It was clear to both what the intent was, as she started to hum a foreign tune, almost musical in melody, as she was going about her arrangements. "I understand you have to go through this, but the Ring needs answers now, my brothers and sisters-" Ixchel cut him off with an upraised paw, as she sighed, shaking her head. Understandable he was impatient, but she had work to do, work that couldn't be rushed.

"They will have their answer. But I must gather the sign first, to know just what fortune awaits you on the journey." As she spoke, the sun rose over them, just in time. That was the time she'd asked him to meet, and if they were lucky, the sun would stay this way for an hour or so. It hit the stick just perfectly, as the shadow cast onto the southernmost stick. That was the idea for the next phase, as she'd hold out her paw, a special circular stone with a raised center and place it right at that shadow.

She noted where the shadow split after hitting that stone, right to the side, as her eyes raised up at the Rabbit. "Good fortune. But you must search the canyons to the east. That is what these signs say. I cannot promise you that there will be anything to find, or that what you find is exactly what you seek...but the omens are good." She stepped back, waiting to see if there was anything else she saw, but if there was anything...she didn't say.

The rabbit stared back at the omens for what seemed like an eternity, before he seemed to accept it and stood up. "I'll come back in three days. If what you say is true, then the Ring can do business with you." Ixchel smiled back at him, giving him a curt nod as she would gather up her things. "I'm sure that you will find it to your satisfaction," she said as she watched him go.

The sun rose, and the sun set.  Ixchel would go about her days as per usual, but it was not a surprise when she'd see the Jackrabbit again. He looked worse for the wear, part of his ear was in a bandage, but he had a bundle of prickly pears at his side. "It was as you said. We find a Gila nest hiding. It cost us, but we " The cat's tail swished as she nodded, unable to prevent a slight swelling of pride run through her body.

"Of course... I only tell the truth. Nothing but the truth. Nature doesn't always give us what we want to hear, but sometimes by listening, we can find out our answers." The rabbit stared, but he'd drop the pears and go. She'd have something for her poultice tonight.

The sun set, as she heard foosteps outside of her cave again. There were three sticks outside of her door, impaled on them were dried fish strips. She'd walk around the Pemmican, as she could see that whoever had left his present had not been long gone. For on the sand leading away from the cave were a set of tracks. Five toed tracks...and the long dragging marks of what might be a stubby tail. [/spoiler]

Gilhert Greysand
Grey Fox
50

[spoiler]The bones of sun-washed stones and desiccated wood beams leaned amongst the shallow scrublands that hugged the sandy plains all around. The dilapidated dwelling appeared forgotten save for a column of smoke drifting from its innards, and a small shadow on the horizon that drew nearer with each passing minute.

It took two cloudless days for Gilhert to decide the lonesome speck approaching his home wasn't some illusion conjured by the shimmering heat. The creature made its way across the hardened sands and, eventually, found itself standing before the wretched shelter.

Clutching a painted flask, Gilhert opened the door and smiled down at his guest. A prairie dog barely stood before him, licking at cracked lips.

"Oh, my, my! How long have you been out there in this heat? The wife 'n I were expecting you for breakfast!"

Greedily sucking at the water that was thrust into his paws, the parched beast let Gilhert lead him inside.

Brightly patterned linens were unfurled tightly across every surviving rafter, shielding the occupants from the fearsome sun. Every shelf was covered in sheets of parchment and painted maps. Where there were no papers, there were brilliantly painted ceramic dishes filled with colourful fruits. In the corner, a vixen draped in sheer fabrics stirred a simmering pot perched over glowing coals.

The prairie dog, at last remembering his tongue, plucked the flask from his mouth.

"Gilhert Greysand?"

Gilhert nodded, offering to the exhausted guest one of the embroidered pillows that sat around a woven mat.

"My name is Cyno. I've been travelling for three days to seek your advice on behalf of Sandsline!"

"Well, sure, my boy, of course. I aim to help!"

"Gilhert," the vixen said, handing Cyno a cup of cool tea. "Lunch is almost ready."

"Thankee, my dearest," Gilhert softly drawled, nosing her cheek.

"Now then, Sandsline... That li'l village just east of Barrenborough? I recall it fondly."

"Yes! You've always spoke with my father, our village's leader, but the heat of this season hasn't agreed with his age, so..."

Gilhert hummed sympathetically as he pulled several bowls from a shelf.

"You're an interpreter of great repute. My people have followed your advice for years and haven't gone hungry, and so I speak with the utmost respect."

Gilhert raised a brow, his lips curling coyly.

"So, why're you here, days from home and comfort?"

"My father is worried about the crops we've been cultivating for the past several seasons. He insists that they aren't growing to their potential and, after so long, there must be something wrong."

"Oh, Arize, it's always the same!" Gilhert chortled, rolling his eyes towards his wife. "Your soil is perfectly suitable for the plants, Cyno. If you've followed my watering recommendations, well now, you'll see a bumper crop this year or the very next. Plants require patience, especially out here. Everything I told your people to plant, it's all hardy in a drought. You'll see."

Cyno ground his teeth anxiously. "We've done...everything you've said. Yet, with the dry season getting drier every year, and our water reserve becoming scarcer and scarcer..."

Gilhert put the bowls down hard on the mat.  With his sleeve, he began polishing the pair of shaded spectacles that hung from his neck by a beaded chord.

"You think I've made a mistake?"

"We just want reassurance. If you could see for yourself... It's more that my father remembers stories of your father-"

Gilhert's tail stiffened slightly as he dawned his glasses. "I assure you, as I've assured your father year after year..." He paused, clapping his paw onto Cyno's shoulder and patting him. "I read the lands far clearer than any beast ever could. You can trust what I know."

"No need to fuss," Arize hummed. "If you did as my husband advised, then you'll be eating every season."

"I promise these mean, parched seasons, they'll pass. We may not be a sowing pair, yet..." Gilhert gestured around the makeshift home while he plopped himself down onto his own pillow. "We certainly never go hungry. Gratitude keeps us well fed."

Cyno's eyes passed over the bowls of fruit, the fine fabrics, and the candied cicada Gilhert snuck from his wife's apron pocket as she bent over to serve them lunch. For a moment, the prairie dog allowed himself some comfort.

"Besides," Gilhert said, licking his sticky claws, "My father didn't quit the gig because his son was bad at the family trade."

Cyno winced sympathetically at the fox. "I heard he was...murdered. Is that true?"

Gilhert didn't stop chewing as he nodded. The fox patted his wife's paw as she sat beside him.

"Oh, my, my, is it ever. You see, Cyno, he was a beast who made mistakes." Gilhert shrugged, then grinned and tossed another cicada into his maw. "Not me."[/spoiler]