<strong>Eshalu - reaching into the past</strong><br/><br/>The presence of the robed figure was startling. Instinctively, Eshalu reached for her obsidian dagger and only loosened her grip on it when she realised that it, too, was a shade - a reflection of that which had once been - and nothing else. There was a story here - a story of which Eshalu could only see fragments and that was deeply frustrating. She now felt so close to making true contact with the spirits - or at least the faded memories - of this place, but the linguistic and cultural difference between them still stymied her.<br/><br/>Eshalu waded deeper into the stream, until the cool pressure of the current enveloped her knees, birthing little eddies by her thighs. She walked slowly, each step sending a fresh spasm of pain through her injured calf. "You - you have lost something. Something of value." Eshalu paused, trying to divine what, if anything, the presence wanted from her. "I would look for it for you. That is the least I can do, since you have received me in the place to which you belong. Among my People, this is great hospitality, which I would return with a favour."<br/><br/>She paused and her thoughts turned to the apparition, and the conflicting feelings it had evoked in the female presence. Though she knew little of the races inhabiting the world outside of the trackless forests of the First Growths, she knew enough to guess that the robed phantasm was something other (or perhaps more?) than human. "That figure, to whom you spoke - is it here with you, or a memory you have suspended in time? Its words were important to you, that I know. Just like this place was. You came to womanhood here and I see you now - you have seen battle, bloodshed. You're...like me. This calling has marked you."<br/><br/>Eshalu spoke, waiting patiently to hear any feedback or reaction from the apparition. She knew that her words in themselves meant nothing. It was the emotions she conveyed - the images that had formed in her mind - which truly spoke for her.