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"More istik nonsense," Lae’zel said, though she seemed less forceful about it than she would once have been.
"I hope you and Alyria are happy," Wyll said. That answered the question whether everyone was aware of their tryst last night. There was no privacy in a camp like this, it seemed. "There is far too little happiness in this place." There was a strangely melancholy expression in Wyll’s eyes as he smiled, and Gale wondered what was troubling him. But then his father was a prisoner of Thorm and his cult, they were trapped in this benighted land, perhaps there was no need for any more reason.
"Thank you," he said. "Although I might prefer it if the topic of mine and Alyria’s relationship were a little less the talk of the camp."
"So it’s a relationship is it?" Karlach asked, grinning wickedly. Gale spluttered.
"That conversation is definitely one that the lady in question should be present for, and the rest of you should be very far away from."
"Aw, you’re blushing," Karlach said, grinning. "Good for you, though, seriously, Gale. Can’t say I’m not a little jealous. I need a good fuck."
"I thought that you were pursuing the smith," Lae’zel said. "Why do you all talk around the subject? It is easier to be direct. Tell him that you wish to bed him then you will have your answer." She shook her head and turned back to Gale. "I approve of this development, as long as it does not create problems in battle. Your minds must be clear to overcome our enemies, not fogged with your lusts."
"I will bear that in mind," Gale said. "Your approval is, of course, of the utmost importance in this matter."
Lae’zel nodded, missing his sarcasm, but she seemed happy enough with his response, so who was he to correct her?
She went back to her weapon drills and Karlach went off to find Scratch and the owlbear cub, still overjoyed that she could pet them now. With their interrogation over, Gale allowed himself another deep breath.
"I take it since you’re here with the rest of us today, you’d prefer to be the one preparing dinner," Wyll said, putting down the empty crate.
"I do have a few ideas," Gale said, though food hadn’t even crossed his mind. However, they had all learnt that leaving Wyll, Karlach, or Lae’zel on cooking duty ended up meaning an interesting night. That said, he could already think of a few recipes, though he would definitely have to modify them.
"Very well," Wyll said. "I’m sure I shall find some way to fill my time. The children in the inn have been asking for more sword lessons and since what happened to Mol, I think it best to keep them occupied."
"Better you than me," Gale responded with a laugh. "I have been humbled quite enough for one day." Wyll raised an eyebrow but didn’t ask.
Burying himself in cooking was usually a good way to turn his head from other thoughts, though Gale found himself unable to concentrate as much as he could. Karlach caught him staring off into the distance once and laughed as he realised that the potato in front of him was only half chopped, and had been for several minutes.
It had been years since something non-magical had overtaken his mind so thoroughly, though perhaps to call it non-magical was to do last night an injustice.
He shook himself from his reverie and bent himself back to the task at hand. Mooning around like a wayward teenager who had had his first kiss was hardly a productive use of his time. If he couldn’t help out there, he needed to make himself useful back here. Lae’zel was right, he couldn’t allow other considerations to cloud his mind.
Even if they were very pleasurable considerations indeed.
Caught up in remembering what had been and conjuring ideas of what could be to come, he abandoned his first plans for the evening meal in favour of something a little more forgiving, it wouldn’t do to burn the food, his ineffectual efforts with Arabella were failure enough for one day. He would at least not prove himself a failure at something he knew he could do, and do well.
After all, had he been in Waterdeep, last night he would have prepared something special. It was the least he could do tonight.
His musings lasted until there was a rumbling noise from the edge of camp, less human and more... monstrous. He turned, the first syllable of Ignis on his tongue, when he saw a familiar winged shape emerge from the dark, silhouetted by the unmistakeable glow of the Blood of Lathander.
Then... behind that, a huge pale shape lumbering on all fours. Gale blinked.
Another owlbear.
He looked over to the cub, which was rolling in the mud with Scratch, both of them having given up begging for scraps of meat a little while ago. Years with Tara had hardened him to the insistent begging of their four-legged companions.
This one looked a little... less cute, though.
He looked behind it for familiar light blue and silver eyes, but even as they approached the light, all he saw was the shape of Astarion peeling himself away from the owlbear’s shadow and off towards his tent. Alyria and Halsin were nowhere to be seen.
Corva landed awkwardly at his feet, tugging at the hem of his robes. She looked... for want of a better word, terrible. Her feathers were in disarray, some of them coated in a dark shining substance he knew was blood. She squawked again, pulling at his robes and he followed, leaving the food to burn, if it must.
Alyria was on top of the owlbear’s back, blood dripping from her. She was covered in it, the silver of her hair so streaked with read it looked almost as though she had dyed it. Vicious spines stuck out of the side of her neck, where her armour didn’t reach, and her eyes were narrowed in clear pain. He held a hand out for her.
"Did Oliver get here?" she asked, before he had even helped her to the ground.
"Oliver?" he repeated. "What happened to you?"
"Given that Thaniel is standing over by Halsin’s tent, I think we can say that we succeeded," Shadowheart said, gesturing. Gale turned to see that there was indeed another child in their camp. When Thaniel had emerged from his unconscious state and ventured out he couldn’t say, but there was no mistaking the boy and the small antlers that jutted from his dark hair.
"The child did this?" he asked, turning back to Alyria. She shook her head, giving him a brief smile before turning to the owlbear.
"Halsin, we should talk to him," she said, taking a step. As she stumbled, clearly limping, Gale stepped forwards, but the owlbear had already caught her weight. The owlbear - Halsin, of course. Druidic magic. The ability to change shape so easily without the need for a polymorph spell, something any transmutation wizard would sell his soul for.
"You made dinner?" Alyria asked, and he nodded.
"You have... ah..." he gestured to her neck and she reached up, wincing as she plucked a long, wickedly sharp needle from her skin, a bead of blood left behind in its wake.
"Needle blights," she said. "It’s been a long day."
He wanted to ask more questions, but she was already hobbling away, using Halsin’s bulk to keep her upright.
He stared after her, more questions piling into his brain.
"She’ll be fine," Shadowheart said. "I’ve healed her a little, and the rest should be alright by tomorrow."
"Needle blights?" Gale asked. They had had a run in with a few of them the other day, and Alyria had been badly off then, too. A well placed fireball had kept them at bay, though.
"And some vine blights, and a shambling mound," Astarion said. He had clearly taken the time to clean himself up quickly. "It was quite a party and our dear ranger was the guest of honour."
"She was cut off from us, the Mound managed to restrain her somehow, or... hold her down," Shadowheart said. "Halsin ran in to draw their attacks, but there were too many."
Corva flapped awkwardly up to Gale’s shoulder, one wing moving oddly, and Gale turned his attention to her instead. Now he was looking more carefully, he could see more of the dark barbs sticking out of her, too.
"And you flew to her rescue, of course," he said, petting the bird’s head.
"Well don’t you two look cosy together," Astarion said. Gale glared at him and turned to look around the camp.
"Karlach," he called and she jumped up from where she had been playing with Scratch and jogged over. "Could you keep an eye on the dinner, Corva needs a little assistance."
Karlach’s eyes went wide, then nodded.
"Right... just... keep an eye on it?"
"Make sure it doesn’t burn," he said. "If it looks like it’s getting too hot, take it off the fire?"
"Right, I can do that. Making sure things don’t  burn," she grinned again. "New one for me, but I’ve got it covered. Take care of Corva, yeah? I’ll send Al over when she’s done with Halsin and his kid."
"Thank you, I have the utmost faith in your abilities," he said, and it was only a little bit of a lie.
Corva’s feathers were sticky with blood beneath his fingers, and he carried her, as carefully as one could carry a bird with a wingspan as long as he was tall, to the pool by the waterfall.
She jumped from his shoulder as he crouched down, wings spreading to slow herself, but one obviously not unfurling properly.
"May I examine you?" he asked politely, wishing he’d thought to carry around a potion of animal speaking or two. She hopped towards him, and he took that as an invitation.
The barbs were hard to find among the black of her feathers, and some of them had sunk deep, requiring him to stroke through the dense feathers on her back and breast, earning disgruntled squawks when he caught on a barb, or a place where the feathers were too stuck together with blood to part. He worked as gently as he could, but the nature of the task meant it couldn’t be entirely painless.
Corva endured his awkward combing with a fair amount of dignity.
"Could you spread your wings?" he asked, when he felt as though he had removed all the needles he could find.
She cawed a couple of times and he once again wished he could understand her, before she awkwardly spread her wings, the right one still half folded. He took it gently and tried to pull it open further, to see what the problem was.
Her beak was sharp as she pecked at his hand.
"Ow!" He pulled back. "My apologies, but I have to be able to see the problem to help you with it. I can ask for Shadowheart’s assistance. Her magic might be of more use than my limited veterinary knowledge in this case." She ruffled her feathers, then cawed sadly as that seemed to cause her more pain. Her next peck was gentler and she plucked at his sleeve.
"You still wish me to help?" he asked. Her head bobbed up and down. "Then let’s see what’s wrong with that wing, shall we?"
She extended her wings again, and this time when he carefully opened the right one a little further, she flinched, but there was no pecking.
Right in the joint of the wing were three more long needles. He hissed at the sight of them.
"This will probably hurt quite a great deal," he warned her. She cawed again, talons tapping against the stone ground impatiently. "Very well. Would you prefer me to do all three at once, or one at a time." He realised she couldn’t answer a second later as she tilted her head to one side, her beady eyes clearly judging him. "Sorry, caw once for all together, caw twice for one at a time."
She gave a short, definitive caw, then no more.
"Very well," he said and reached to grasp the barbs with his fingers. They were slick with blood, and it took a second to get a firm grasp on them. "On three then. One. Two. Three."
He pulled and Corva let out a pained squawk, wings flapping frantically. The barbs were well stuck in, perhaps caught on each other, and there was a second where he thought they would not come free before he adjusted his grip and they finally slipped out of her wing.
Corva cawed quietly, preening at her feathers. She tried stretching her wings again, and Gale was grateful to see that the right one extended further than it had before, though still not as easily as he would have liked.
She squawked at him a few more times, then hopped onto his leg. Her talons were sharp, but no sharper than Tara’s claws when she demanded a seat on his lap. Gale raised a tentative hand to her head and scratched it as he had seen Alyria do many times before, earning a softer caw as her head pushed up into his touch.
"Thank you," he said, petting her carefully. She turned her head towards him curiously. "For keeping her safe when I could not." He swallowed. They looked at each other for a long moment and Corva cawed twice. "Had I been there..." He gritted his teeth, wishing that Alyria hadn’t had such a strong response to those rings. If she had been wearing one today, then he could have borne some of the pain for her. As it was all he had done was be thrown around by a young girl, interrogated by their companions and cook a meal that was quite probably ruined beyond recognition by now.
"I'm afraid my knowledge of how to clean feathers is rather limited," he admitted. Tara had always preferred to take care of her own bathing, a fiercely independent tressym – except for when she wanted something. "Can you manage by yourself, or do you require further assistance?"
"She’ll be fine." 
Gale started at the sound of Alyria’s voice from right behind them. He looked at Corva, who must have been able to see her mistress there. He turned to see her, stripped of her armour and in her camp clothes, but still splattered with blood. 
"She just wants to be fussed over."
Corva squawked something back, which made Alyria flush a little and Gale wished yet again that he had thought to pack a potion of animal speaking.
"And what about you," he asked, stepping forwards to reach for her face, where a deep scratch ran down her cheek. "You look–"
"Terrible," she said with a laugh.
"–like you may be in need of some fussing of your own, should you wish."
"I think there’s mud, acid and blood in my hair," she said, picking up a strand gingerly. It was rusty brown rather than its usual blue-silver. She winced and then reached up to the back of her neck, plucking yet another needle out and throwing it aside. "I thought I got all of them," she complained. "Could you look?"
"Certainly," he agreed, crossing over to her. He carefully swept her hair up away from the back of her neck, noting the slight shiver as the night air hit her skin, and found two more needles there. They were not deep, but still stuck by the edge of her hairline where they might easily have been missed. "Shadowheart said you were surrounded."
"Walked right into it," she said with a sigh. "They’re surprisingly good at hiding. Luckily Astarion and Shadowheart were further back so they didn’t get caught as well."
"They might have taken some of the focus off you," Gale suggested, keeping his tone as light as he could, while pulling the barbed needles from her skin. He could see the scattered dots of dried blood where other needles had been removed, spattered amongst her freckles, and he pressed his lips to them carefully, half expecting her to turn around and demand to know what he thought he was doing.
Instead she let out a small sigh, her shoulders relaxing a little.
"Halsin managed that," she said with a laugh. "It turns out that a giant owlbear leaping into the fray proves rather distracting."
Gale reined in his first reaction. The druid had been a steady companion so far, and invaluable in the fight against Dror Ragzlin. Just because his methods were not those Gale himself would employ, and he might feel that perhaps a fireball rather than an owlbear might have been of more use in the situation described to him, he could hardly judge a situation he had not seen. "I am sure he will prove an asset to our little team. Not how I would have chosen to react, but then the druidic magics lie somewhat outside my area of expertise."
"Oh yes, I heard you and Arabella enjoyed yourselves," she commented and Gale couldn’t help but groan, winning a laugh from her.
"I fear our magical disciplines are less compatible than I might have hoped," he admitted. "I am not sure I succeeded in teaching her anything other than a disdain for the arcane arts."
"It was kind of you."
"Well-intentioned, perhaps, but ultimately an exercise in futility I must reluctantly admit. Her powers, whatever gifts that Silvanus granted her through contact with his idol, are far more rooted in the primal and instinctual forces of nature than the intricacies of my own capabilities with the Weave. I believe they stem from a root more similar to your own magical abilities."
"I meant it was kind of you to let her use her magic on you without retaliating," Alyria said, turning to him with a bright grin. "We both know if you’d wanted, you could have cast Hold Person on her without batting an eyelid and forced her to listen without interruption."
"That would have rather compromised the purpose of the lesson," Gale said. "Though I cannot deny being sorely tempted on more than a few occasions. However, I’ve always believed the best way to learn about something is by exploring it through multiple means, both theoretical and practical. As the main intention was to give her more understanding and confidence in her abilities, to prevent her from using them would have been the opposite of what was needed..."
"You hadn’t prepared it, had you?" Alyria asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I cannot deny that was also a slight issue, yes."
"You were missed," she said, stepping forwards to rest her forehead on his shoulder. He brought his arms up around her slowly, uncertain if she would step away.
"You know you have but to say the word, and any abilities I have are yours to command."
"You would have hated the game of hide and seek with the wraiths, though." 
"Sounds terrible," Gale agreed, barely registering her words as he held her to him. There was nothing more to the hug than just that, a simple gesture of comfort, and it still made his heart race.
There was a loud splash and the two of them were drenched with water. They pulled apart to see Corva in the water, staring back at them. Deliberately she flapped her wings, sending another shower of water at them.
Gale grimaced as water ran down his face, dripping from the end of his nose, next to him Alyria let out another laugh.
Corva cawed at her and Alyria just sighed, falling to her knees by the pool. Gale thought she was going to help the raven with her feathers, but instead she tipped her head forward and dunked it fully into the water, rubbing her fingers through it as a great cloud of blood and dirt swirled out from it.