#elsewhere

"Will that work here? Do you not need something of that which you wish to find?" He murmrs, eyes gleaming in interest.

"I'm workin' on that!"

He grins, but isn't rankled by her prickles.

"What deed would you have" She moves closer to the Rock Giant "I have deeds. I have defeated a wyvern hearted traitor and helped drive her off. I have aided in keeping a Guardian's sanity. I have played the great game. You play Lacrosse?"

"And, yeah, if I could see the other arrows, that'd help a whole furkin' lot, but I doubt that Rockbiter'll allow us that..."

Mato shakes his head. "These are all words, not proof," he grumbles. Then he pauses, his gaze interested as he looks to Gwen. "You play?"

A challenge gleams in his eyes, and his posture shifts slightly.

He raises the massive club in his hand, whispering to it in a language Gwen cannot quite understand. To her surprise, the stone of the club shifts, groaning as it reshapes itself into a lacrosse stick. However, made of stone, and not wood. She can only guess at the weight, which looks... considerable.

“You must hit the stone wall with your shot. Not with the power of your strength alone, but with the precision and skill of one who truly knows the game. The goal is to make your mark—strike the wall cleanly.” There are stones scattered about alongside the path.

His grin widens, a predatory gleam in his eyes as he steps back. “If you succeed, I will know your worth."

"Damn straight I play" She says and gives her position then admires the stick forming. She takes the stick. "As you say"

The stones scattered on the ground around Gwen are varied.

One stone catches the eye immediately - near perfectly round, nicely smooth. As light catches it, a sparkly line runs through its center, catching the eye with a shimmer.

Another stone stands apart with its knobbly, rough exterior. Dark as obsidian, its jagged edges weahtered by time.

The last stone is more unremarkable—just a simple rock, plain and dull in comparison to the others. And others lie about nearby, but are too large or too small for a good throw.

Art has his head down with Thistle, discussing cantrip ideas with her.

She kens each one, yes, magic is everywhere, but one has to wonder if one of the stones is loaded or the like. She gets a feel for each as well, testing the blaance and weight

"Oh, no, that one's fercacta." She scowls when Gwen picks up the rock with the shimmer.

"Mmm" A nod, "Pretty, but not ready for the game" She grabs the simple looking one again "Sometimes greatness is in action, not until we do are we great, being is not enough"

She whispers to the plain stone, casting willow whisper "Much alike, aren't we? Misread even in the open."

Before even the bunk has completed, she - and the others, hear a voice. "I am stone, granite, strong and solid. Who lifts me from my path?" It sounds ancient, though not loud. Firm.

"I am Gladiola, flower named, Stone skinned. I would offer you a chance to play the great game, or at least one small part of it. Will you join me willingly and strive in team work with me? So we might please the Great spirit and those who witness?"

Another voice, this one more crackly, speaks up. "I'm granite too, you're nothing special. Look at my sparkles, how I catch the light."

A duller voice speaks as well. "Ho, hum." The obsidian seems bored with this.

SNORT.

Granite rumbles, "Your quartz is shiny but you'll schism if you hit the wall."

"Yes," Says Inclusion, "But then my facets will shine all the more."

Obsidian says nothing.

A moment passes, then Granite says, "I will play this game with you. I am dull, but strong grained. I will not shatter easily."

"We do not break easily, you and I, though our wounds are slow to heal" A nod then a look to the other stones "YOu'll each find your glory if you seek it in your own way"

Mato crosses his arms and watches.

Thistle reaches for the obsidian.

She may lift it!

It is... a rock!

It's a flint. She's still contemplating a wisp bunk.

"Of course!" Art murmurs to Thistle.

And she sets it up, and with the stick ready, shows her expertise with professionalism, passion, and precision! "HENG!" She calls out!

The rock whips out - it is HARD using a stone stick. None of the flex and spring she expects from her Lacrosse stick at home, but she is dexterous and strong, and adjusts for it, and her rock slams against the outcropping, and when the stone falls to the ground, there is a distinct crack/scrape on the wall!

"Thank you" She says to the stone.

Then she looks over at the Rock Giant. Her gaze strong but not agressive

"Well done!" Takota claps.

As Gwen lands the shot, perfectly striking the stone wall, the Rock Giant watches with a gleam in his eyes. A low rumble of approval echoes.

"You are quick, and your aim is true. Impressive strength for one of your size." If she hadn't noticed before - the Rock Giant not only is taller, but is taller than her! "You have the heart of a warrior and the skill of one who respects the game."

Mato retrieves his club, the lacrosse stick now transforming back into its usual heavy form. His voice drops to a gravelly, respectful tone as he formally introduces himself.

"I am Mato Inyan of the Iroquois and the Rock Giants, one who walks with Granite, a guardian of these sacred stones," He raises a hand, gesturing to the rocky surroundings, to the mountains, and to the land beneath their feet. "This land is my charge, my honor. You have shown your worth. Now we will see if you and those with you can help."

It seems he still hasn't quite deemed the white folk worth his time, giving them a look of uncertainty, but he allows their presence now, with Gwen.

"It is good to hear your greeting, Mato Inyan" She says somberly. She fights the urge to smile at Takota "And thank you, Takota."

"Will-o-wisps can seek things, if we can give one enough to go off of."

Art bows slightly to Mato, and asks, "Do the arrows have a special name, in your language?"

He does not ask for a Name, somehow Changelings can hear the capital N, but more of a language question, it seems.

She turns the obsidian over in her hands, running a calloused thumb along it.

It feels nice. Solid.

"There." Obsidian says.

Her thumb hovers over a nodule as the rock speaks.

"Thistle knows of things crafted and made. If we could touch the arrows that remain, with their permission, she might be able to use their aid to find their mates"

A slight head tilt, and she's squinting again. Kenning versus close examination vs irritation are kind of the same face.

Mato is considering. He shakes his head. "The remaining arrows have been taken deep into the mountain, where even I cannot reach. The place is sacred, and the path is not one I can traverse without dire consequence. But, I will share with the willow-boy the Cherokee names for the arrows—those that must be returned."

"The first arrow is called Vóhke, which means 'to hunt.'

Takota adds, his voice taking on the cadence of sing-song chant, "It is an arrow of hunting, one that leads the warrior’s hand to a swift and certain strike, guided by the spirits of the land."

Mato grumbles, but nods, and continues, ""The second is Mííhtse, meaning 'to heal.'"

Takota continues, "It is an arrow of restoration, an arrow that can mend wounds and bring balance to those lost or broken. It holds the power to soothe the spirit as much as it does the body, a gift of renewal in times of darkness."

"We use the names - write them out, yeah? Crumple the paper with'm, as kindling, and knap the obsidian...." Murmured to Art.

Art's head is tilted to one side, listening to something, then he looks amused.

A sideways tug on her lips.

Gwen listens to her friends patter back and forth, notices the look, and grows a bit worried for them Not sure Coyote is good for them, or they for Coyote, but it's not my call

"No offense to WIllow, but we walk with Coyote, at least for now."

Mato shakes his head, muttering, "Animals as totems... how... unusual."

Art nods to Mato, "Your totems of stone and water and plant would not walk with us. Coyote honored us with his offer." Respectful.

"Feh, if I'd gotten myself as a totem, we'd see how prickly I could really get. I'm the damn sweetest Thistle you'll ever meet."