#elsewhere

There is an obvious path forward, one that Takota points to. "We should not linger. That way, there is a river that winds through the trees, following the path of the Spirit Road. We should go before the stars no longer light our way."

Gwen nods and strides that way, fighting the urge to shield the others from threats by taking lead. It's hard.

Actually, Takota lets her take the lead, walking a pace back and to one side. Ivan takes up the other side, like a procession.

And she walks resolutely

Thistle has her map back - she might not be entirely sure how to read it, but, well, the elder said it should be "felt." So. Trying to be receptive!

Thistle definitely thinks there is something to that map. If only she had a little more time to study it.

Ivan suddenly paces forward - his head lowers and he growls, hackles raised.

Gwen stops and readies her weapon and looks about.

It is a few moments before she senses the motion ahead on the path - Ivan's senses seem unnaturally keen. Takota also eyes the dog with renewed respect.

He murmurs to Gwen, "Be on guard, but know that we walk on their land." Seemingly having a clue as to what, or who, may be ahead.

A nod and she whispers back, "Should I declare our respects and our intent to just pass through?"

A towering figure steps into their path, his form blending seamlessly with the rugged landscape. His skin is the color of weathered stone, cracked and lined as though carved by centuries of wind and rain. Patches of moss cling to his broad shoulders and forearms, and his deep-set eyes glow faintly, like embers.

He is clad in simple adornments—bands of braided leather and carved stone beads wrapped around his wrists, a heavy necklace of polished river rocks hanging across his chest. In one massive hand, he grips a war club shaped from a single piece of blackened stone, its surface etched with symbols that seem to shift when glimpsed from the corner of the eye.

Takota steps forward, hands raised without any weapon. Indeed, if Takota has a weapon, they have not seen it yet. "Takota of the Nanehi greets Mato Inyan of the Rock Giant Tribe. These others walk with me."

He gestures to Gwen, that she may speak, and whispers, "As you wish."

Mato scoffs, his expression hard as stone. "Takota. Still playing the diplomat, I see. Only good for pretty words and dancing. And now you bring conquerors to our sacred land?" His voice heavy with disdain. Though, he does a double-take at Gwen.

Thistle tries to look as harmless as possible.

And keeps her mouth SHUT.

"I am called Gladiola or Gwen. " She says "Stone skinned in this life, born of Iraqouis and Cherokee. I do not come as a conqueror nor do my allies. We mean to travel through on a quest of healing for she who I call mother. I have never met one of your people in this life, but I would meet you in peace. "

She looks at Art, eyes wide.

Art nods back at her!

Mato’s eyes narrow as he looks over the group, his gaze sharp with distrust. "You do not belong here. We are already on guard after a most terrible theft. If it wasn’t for the fact you came with one of the People.. and from the far side of the Tower, you would already be crushed beneath my club." He says, not as a threat, but as a fact.

"None may pass this way."

"A theft?" A scowl but not AT the rock giant, act the act , "on sacred land?" She does not think there are any piskies here, so that cuts out the usual suspects "Mato Inyan, if we can find these thief or return what was stolen to you, will you then allow us to walk through unhindered?"

A sharp squint, and the nocker takes half a step closer. Her hand absently traces a shape in the air.

She thinks on the stories she's heard of beings like this. They sound like they've a lot in in common with Redcaps AND trolls

Mato glowers, his voice low and tinged with anger. "Do you doubt my ability to recover what was stolen?" He slaps his chest, the sound ringing as stone crashing. "I am Mato Inyan, a protector of my people and this sacred land. No one can hide the sacred arrows from me!"

Takota gasps. "Say it isn't so!"

Art gasps, clearly recognizing something.

"Of course not, but many eyes can speed up the looking."

Eyebrow quirk at Art?

"I remember reading about the history of this place, after I saw the film about the Close Encounters." He says to Thistle quietly, though Gwen can certainly overhear. "Remember, you scolded me about it not being a documentary, and then we spoke on length about how to properly treat mashed potatoes."

Gwen's jaw sets. Not this shit again! but she curbs her own feelings and says as calmly as she can "I did not doubt you. I asked to help so unjustice could be corrected AND we could prove ourselves to you. My allies have resources and means that may speed things up without shame on any."

"The music?" She murmurs to Art.

He hums it, but then shakes his head. "I don't remember it all, but there's a story of sacred arrows and this tower."

Apologetic, "I do not recall the details."

Squint, nod.

A brow lift, Art's comment reminding her of a story "According to Cheyenne tradition, the Four Sacred Arrows were given to them by Sweet Medicine, hero and prophet who journeyed to a sacred cave in the Black Hills, where he received wisdom and guidance from powerful spirits. The arrows were a divine gift meant to guide and protect the Cheyenne people, and they were imbued with spiritual power. Two of the arrows are for war , while the other two are for hunting... male and female. Strength and defense, Survival and medicine. Said to be hidden in a sacred cave. It's the arrows that have been stolen, isn't it, Mato Inyan? Your rage is justified, if misplaced at my allies and I"

"You ask to walk unchallenged across my land, yet you come with nothing to prove your worth!"

Takota argues back, his voice eloquent, "They come with the strength of Totems walking with them!"

"Not our totems." He argues back, but then breaks off to look at Gwen incredulously. "You know the lore of the Tower?"

He is silent for a moment, reappraising them.

Art whispers to Thistle, "As did I..." But he does NOT argue that aloud.

“I don’t know who took them,” he admits, his words heavy. "If the Male arrows were stolen, I would suspect an attack. But it was the Female arrows that are missing. I don’t know why, but they are gone, and that is what matters. They are sacred, tied to the people of this land which I call home. Without them, we are less than what we once were. The land is less. The spirits are less. That is why I stand here.”

He uncrosses his arms, his eyes glinting with a flicker of challenge.

“You wish to pass? Then show me your worth. Prove to me that you can help."

Mato’s gaze turns to Takota, "And you,” he growls, pointing directly at Takota. “Stay silent. Your prancing, your singing—none of it helps. If you cannot be quiet, then stuff your mouth with mud, for it will be more useful than your words.”

Takota scoffs, but stays silent.

Thistle bites on her lip, and raises her hand.

"I know but a bucket's worth from a river. The Seer with me" She gestures to Art, "He maybe an outsider, but he honors all knowledge. The Maker with me ,she maybe an outsider too," A look to Thistle " but she has already shown honor to the crafters of the people of the great wheel. I? I am not so clever as they, but I listen when elders tell stories around fires. I LEARN what I can so I am not cut off from my blood. And I walk with Thunderbird watching. "

"Sacred arrows of survival and medicine, the female arrows. And they're... physical? Not just made of magic, but an object infused with.. uh.. medicine?"

He looks to Thistle, and gives a slight nod.

She scowls, and nods, muttering to herself.

"Well, if this ain't why we brought dross. Hokay."

She crouches, hands searching the ground for two rocks.

"You speak of knowledge, but tales are just wind. Deeds earn respect." He says.

A scoff from Takota, clearly they differ on this.

Art crouches next to Thistle, "What are you doing?"

"A wisp."