Snippet #2457421

As they began their walk to find a better place for the night, Rala felt a familiar chill at one particular spot. It could only be one thing, a restless and trapped spirit. She let the others get ahead of her slightly as she took up a leaf, whispered a soft elven prayer to it before setting it on the ground where she felt the chill. It was a small tradition for her, one that she believe kept her how her mother had raised her. Nothing terribly special about this little act, but it was one that she would never give up. She believed that a leaf alone could carry a soul from this world to the one it was supposed to be in and she would preform this to anyone, even those who had attacked her.

When she looked up, the others were pretty far ahead of her, but being an elf it was no trouble catching up with them again. She stayed in pace with the hobbit this time, much slower than she was used to, but she felt that everyone had something to teach one another and that possibly Amaranth's was to teach others how to slow down and enjoy oneself. So that's what the elf did. With the slower pace, Rala could watch the trees, notice how the light was blocked by the leaves above like small green stars; how the breeze felt on her skin cooling her for just a moment. She could hear the small woodland critters as they scurried about gathering food and supplies for the night. Though the forest they were walking in was more dangerous than before, it was still a beautiful and wild place to entrap ones attentions.

The day got darker and by night they had found a spot that, in Kavrala's eyes, they could all possibly agree upon. Of course, Bernadette wasn't giving anyone a choice to carry on as she started to pull branches from the dead oak to make a fire. Rala set her bag on the ground and started gathering stones to circle the fire and start it with as well. When everything was set, Bernadette started the evening's conversation, or trying to at least. It seemed back stories was the theme tonight, which was just as well that the woman hadn't called Rala out. She never liked sharing her past and it always seemed to sour the mood or cause sarcastic remarks that it wasn't that bad. Though Kavrala knew that if things got to dark in their conversation or a lull became too long she could break it with a story. A small smile played on her lips as she thought of all the stories she had collected over the years. Some were from expert travelers and story tellers, others were from parents trying to put their children to sleep, but her favorite were from the children themselves. They were always so full of hope and magic that anyone could be wrapped up in them quickly, even if they didn't hold a ton of originality or depth to them.

And so the elf waited. Waited for the stories to start so that she could add more to her collection. This was the part about adventures that she always loved the most. Strangers sitting around a fire together, all trying to keep warm and comforted. Then the stories are traded back and forth as people share their experiences as if they were all old friends getting antiquated with one another after years of separation. These stories would make one laugh, or cry, and some even got people to dance around the fire in a festival form of celebration.

Her eyes lifted to the dwarf in almost earnest expectancy, her ears focusing to pick up every syllable that the dwarf might say, and her chin resting on her knees almost like children do while they wait.