<strong>Eshalu - resting in the Saurian village</strong><br/><br/>There had been something tantalising in the great matriarch's acknowledgment of Eshalu's visions of the spirits of the island. For a moment, it appeared to her that the matriarch itself, with its great age and power, understood the true nature of the island and its boundless malevolence. But the Saurians had flourished here, settled into a timeless pace of life with enough continuity to guarantee the presence of such ancient leaders. Something was amiss. Either the Saurians had found the appropriate rites to placate the unseen hatred that lurked in the spirit realm of the accursed isle, or they were part of the problem.<br/><br/>Eshalu made no acknowledgment that she understood or agreed with anything the matriarch said. She remained alert and focused. Though the mighty feathered Saurian was clearly trying to put her at ease - or, perhaps, lull her into a false sense of security - Eshalu was too wary of the vagaries of the wild to take any chances. She only allowed her stance to fall once the immense matriarch had exited the chamber. The creature had been striking with its riotous plumage and unexpected eloquence and it would doubtless make a very good story to keep young novices amused at night.<br/><br/>She watched Aeryn make herself comfortable, before suddenly surrendering to sleep. The sight was alarming at first. Such sudden, debilitating exhaustion was rare amongst her People and usually the symptom of an underlying wound or illness, but time spent away from her Caern had given her enough exposure to the human need for sleep to understand that it was likely nothing serious.<br/><br/>She had eaten enough earlier that day to go without another meal for a couple of days, but the climate on the island was humid for her - with a certain alien mugginess. So she drank thirstily from her waterskin and watched Reliyian's diligent sewing of her garments, marveling at the ease with which the globule of light followed its mistress's commands.<br/><br/>Reliyian's strange familiarity continued to surprise her. It was like looking into a vein of silver trapped in rock, or staring into the tremulous surface of a pool hidden deep in the karst. Reliyian was a reflection of her People, but changed in ways that seemed fascinating and disconcerting at the same time. Now, observing the sensual fullness of Reliyian's curves, Eshalu realised how exotic they must have looked to each other. The mountain elf had a physique few, if any, wood elven woman she had seen possessed.<br/><br/>"The Keeper of Orchards has blessed you, Far-Seer," Eshalu observed, "and shaped you in the image of her dryads. I remember them from the quince and medlar trees tended by the druids, their hair the colours of deep Fall, their lips sweet, dark and tasting of ripe fruit." she smiled, taking comfort in a warm memory of home, "Fruit tree dryads are always the friendliest - they never demand blood - and they adore dancing and playing the pipes and helping the gatherers of my Clan make wine, preserves and pickles -" Eshalu trailed off and forced herself to focus on the present. This was not a time for distraction.<br/><br/>She lay her cloak on the ground between Aeryn and Reliyian and curled up, instinctively, her shortsword clutched in her arms, her spear laid flat perpendicular to her head. Pulling Aeryn closer for warmth, she remained motionless, letting her conscious mind rest while her eyes remained fixed on the descending darkness.