#elsewhere

"Yeah yeah," She tells the dog "I don't see you mocking when opposable thumbs can get to the food"

Art steps nimbly through, seeing tussocks of earth and firm logs to support himself easily.

Thistle also makes her way, a bit slower but steady and without stumbling. Plus, lagging behind a bit she can admire Art's grace, for once.

...Takota remains on the bank, shifting his weight nervously.

"Takota, grab onto the end of my spear" She stretches out the blunt side twoardss him

"I will go around." He calls to Gwen, his cheeks flushed.

Mato does not turn and calls back in his granitey voice, "Get over yourself, princess. These trails are a maze."

"Takota, do you need me to.. uhm.. lift you over? I do not mind"

His cheeks flush further, not helped by the grating chortle from the Rock Giant.

"No, I... No. I come."

Takota hesitates at the edge, nose wrinkling at the sour stink of stagnant water. With a deep breath, he steps forward—and immediately sinks past his ankles with an audible schlop.

His expression twists in disgust, but he presses on, lifting each foot with exaggerated effort, only for the muck to cling stubbornly. It's no worse than the others had to endure, but it seems so much harder for the Nanehi.

Thistle is pulling up the rear, and she shoots him a concerned glance.

Art reaches the far end, and reaches out to pull Thistle out, then offers his stave to Gwen, shouild she need a grip to get up the slippery bank.

Gwen helps lift him out anyway at the last part of it with an offered hand "There we go"

Mato uses tree limbs and roots, deftly heaving himself out.

As Takota nears the far side, a sudden splash erupts beside him. A small wave of murky water sloshes over his legs, soaking him further. He stumbles, sputtering, as a broad, flat face breaks the surface—a beaver, nose crinkled in clear amusement. For a brief moment, its dark eyes twinkle, then—plunk—it vanishes beneath the water, leaving only ripples behind.

He exhales sharply, and accepts Gwen's hand to get up the bank.

Even with her help, by the time he emerges he’s dripping with pond scum, mire up to his knees, and a waterlogged bit of slimy swamp weed stuck to his cheek.

Thistle deposits her stave neatly at the edge of the bog.

A quirk of her lips, again.

"You okay, Takota? " It occurs to her she doesn't know if his kith's..err tribe's limits. Maybe they have an aversion to this sort of thing

Art's shoulder shake a bit, as he shakes the water from his pant legs and stomps off his shoes.

As for Takota, he still looks handsome - not unlike how a Sidhe hit with a water balloon may still somehow look regal, but his expression is downright pathetic.

"We must continue on." He doesn't quite answer her question. "Your light dwindles."

"Oh yes" She nods and picks up the pace again. Her expression so resolute falters a bit. She wants to find the arrows so she can find the belt so she can help mom.

"Oi. Prettyboy." She chucks a bandana at Takota, and continues on after the wisp.

So many links to the cord, if ONE snaps... Worry for her mom

Takota catches the bandana and wipes at his face - he still looks unhappy, but it helps a little.

The path narrows to a sheer rock face, rising nearly thirty feet with only a few precarious handholds. The stone is weathered and slick, offering no easy way up. The Will-o'-Wisp disappears over the top, and Citrine, running interference, urges them forward, but the climb looks daunting.

"If I had a rope, perhaps..." Art squints up the cliff face.

"I have Hopscotch."

Mato has started up the cliff already, pulling himself easily - and then pauses, and drops back down. The earth rumbles a bit where he lands.

"I have... an idea." She moves to the rock face, "Stone that is, we ask aid to climb you. The sacred has been stolen. We would return it"

She makes a face, calculating the height.

"Please, old bones of the world, it is important"

math lady

The rock giant rumbles, watching Gwen. “A good idea, but too slow.” He rolls his shoulders. "Stone does not have the same concept of time as we do. By the time it decides, you may be old bones yourself."

He presses a massive hand against the cliff, murmuring in his deep, rumbling voice. The earth trembles, and suddenly, stones begin to push out from the rock, forming a natural ladder of sturdy footholds.

He steps back, arms crossed, as if to say, Well? Get moving.

"Well, that's badass."

"Nuthin', if all you wanna do is gnaw on'm."

"Thank you," She tells the Rock Giant AND the rock, and helps her dog get up and anyone else who might need a lift for parts

"It is the Earth's Voice. One of my Songs of Power."

Mato reaches down and lifts Ivan up from Gwen's grasp, then offers her a hand as well. When Takota comes up, Mato considers, then gives the Brave a hand too.

"Up you go, Dogwood. Worry not, a spring rain and you'll be fighting off the ladies once more." A slap on the back from Mato that makes Takota stumble a bit.

Art grins to Thistle. "Fresh bones might be more palatable, if you can get them."

"Dogwood? that's one of my favorite trees" Gwen can't help but confes

"Point. Probably both are fancier than Milkbones, though."

Takota speaks, he still looks bedraggled, but it helps distract him as they move on. "Dogwood is my personal totem, and also the name of our Summer Camp. Our Winter Camp is known as Rock People. Always scowling, like they’re angry at the world for just being what it is.""

A warning rumble from Mato. "Do not speak of Winter Camp lightly, Dogwood. They are untamed, like the raw forces of nature. Winter is not cruel; it simply is what it must be—cold, harsh, unyielding. Know, Outsiders, that the Rock People and the Rock Giants share only a name, save that all Nunnehi walk both paths in their lifetime."

He falls silent, a veritable speech from the giant.

"We do winter and summer, too."

"Different names, but." A shrug.

"Irreverent." Art breathes, shaking his head a bit at an inner thought.

He looks up at where Mato is shooting him a glare. and remarks, "We have Winter and Summer Courts as well. Our lord of Silverwolf is a Winter lord, and we respect him nevertheless. Perhaps more, because he owns who and what he is."

A pause, and he gives Thistle a smile that makes him look a bit goofy, shedding the formality he had for a moment.

"I believe the phrase is, Jinx?"

A lopsided grin.

Coke! Coke! Coca cola cola cola cola cola! Citrine sings, looking around hopefully for a can.

At the top of the cliff, Mato presses his hand against the cliff face, and with a moment's concentration, it returns to the original form, hand and footholds melting away.