Quietly, diligently, Levani listened as she always had, imagining the home that Kallo described to her, seeing the paintings in her mind of bald mountains from the pictures of one of her books. Rockfaces and cliffs were no strangers to Asdenni, but she could not imagine the description she had heard before, places where the earth parted from the ground, and rose so high that it kissed the sky. Impossible, it seemed, but so did the sea, and though she had seen neither, she did not discredit the fascinations and stories of humankind, no matter their strangeness. Still, she worked to imagine them, imagine the warrior hidden from her eyes as hardly more than a pup, learning from mother and father how to survive the land. In the absence of his hard figure, with only a strong, weathered voice to guide, she could see it, faintly, him thriving in happier times, before blood and black. He was a man after her own heart, for she could see him flourishing beneath the canopy of Asdenni, with the Watchers cheering the quickness of his bow.<br/><br/>It was a possibility, a glimpse into the future, given that they survived. Given that he did not return home to his mountain and his plains, to whatever was left of his family and the home that they had forged before sickness had come to take it away. Given that the Watchers allowed her to keep her gift, that they did not take away that which they had given her, the same way that they gave and took away life.<br/><br/>It was another human thing, to scrutinize over the trifles of the future, and Levani worked to shake it from her shoulders, squeezing a rush of cold water over her neck. She continued to scrub, the leather cords of her many necklaces wet and cool against her skin, keeping her attention avid. She cleared the markings scattered over her back of soil, their spined ends guarding her shoulders, and gently cleansed her healing wound of its scabbing and any oily residue that remained. She finished as Kallo finished talking and she found herself melancholic, no trace of him otherwise in that moment, where she could not see him. She splashed the remainder of the water on herself and swiped the excess water droplets away in the quiet. Once finished, she wriggled back into her underthings, her leather pants, her boots. She retrieved her leather top from the things she had taken with her, fixing straps and buckles, though it bared the curve of her arms and collarbone to neck. The cloak was affixed with a ring on her right shoulder, the flowing material shimmering, the ends tattered and aged. Short leather gauntlets were added last, which she fussed with while Kallo returned her question to her.<br/><br/>Retrieving the items that she had taken with her, Levani deftly climbed back atop the root, tilting her head slightly down at Kallo. He had finished and was sitting before the clay fireplace, the aroma of seared fish wafting up and rumbling her stomach more than expected. She gracefully leapt down and placed the bucket aside, ringing out the cloth inside of it. “Asdenni, yes,” she confirmed, returning a moment to her burrow to return the silken shirt that she had worn the day prior, determined to wash it later. She’d been so desperate for a quick wash that she’d forgotten its own bloodied, ragged state.<br/><br/>Levani emerged and returned to Kallo, running her fingers through wet, copper hair to pull it from her face, seating herself with her back against the root, pulling the torn fur onto her lap, despite her hunger growing for the cooked morsels. They’d need a moment to set, to rest.<br/><br/>“I was born a hunter, in a glade south of here,” Levani began, tsking quietly at the reminder of her early days, keeping to herself that she had no pup stage to speak of, though she did have youth - a period of intense learning. The gods of the wood were harsh parents, and they were not open to the weakness of their creations. “Maybe I will take you there, one day, if the black manages not to destroy it,” she amended with a chuff, seeking out the needle that she had pierced into the fur for safekeeping. Once found, she began to weave it through the wound, more careful and elegant than she had been with injuries - which only needed enough stitching to keep the skin together. She paused, dark lashes fanning against cheeks before she glanced back up at him, smile touching the corner of her lips. “At night, the waterfall looks like silver moonlight falling into the pool beneath, and I have vivid memories of swimming its depths, drinking its clarity.” She snorted gently with humor and looked down at her work again. “Licking my wounds in the cave behind it. Or waiting there for prey to foolishly to enter my territory. Made me gluttonous as a youth, though eventually I’d have the fierce need to travel and I’d tangle myself beneath the feet of the others,” she laughed, shaking her head.<br/><br/>“Asdenni taught me almost everything that I know. The tribespeople that live here have filled in the blanks.” She shrugged her shoulders and added, “You may not see them. They have learned very well to stay hidden, and strangers are anathema since the appearance of the black, as they should be. Though, they know me and speak with me. They taught me language - them and the merchants. Even your language, though not all of its nuances, clearly,” she added, humored.<br/><br/>“As I grew older, Asdenni called me to its aid, and with the gift of the Watchers, I have turned from hunter to guardian. The rest you know,” Levani said simply, biting the thread to break it and examining her quick handiwork. She seemed sated enough with it and put the pelt aside. She quickly rifled through the wooden trunk of various things and extracted two wooden plates, both of entirely different design. The one that she handed him was ornate and old, intricate designs carved around its lip. Her own was cherrywood and not fully round, the rings of a tree emanating from the center.<br/><br/>“I would have liked your father, I believe,” Levani noted, golden eyes quick to glimpse any reaction to it, curious if his parents had been consumed by the black as well. She distributed the filets and dug into its flesh with fingers, pulling off small pieces at a time. Utensils were never a thing that she’d particularly taken a liking to. “He sounds like he belongs in a place like here. You as well. The Watchers enjoy the revelry of hunting. They have been known to bless the tribespeople that exceed, in their own way.” She downed a morsel, taking a deep sigh of pleasure and nodding her head to show her satisfaction. “Your mother though… what is an…<i>al-chem-ist</i>?” She asked, piecing out the word, having kept it in her mind. “I would assume it requires her of resourcefulness, to make something like the oil. Is that akin to a witchdoctor or a wisewoman?”