The scent of lavender and pine fills the air, fills her breath.  The scent is calming.  Soothing.  The pine...isn't anything she can describe.  It simply is, and what it is, is memory.  Is home.  Is childhood, and young adulthood, and life, and a reminder of her reasons, of her roots.

She breathes it in, the idea of the forest, an all-pervasive scent, and remembers, and breathes out, into the air of this new place, this new town, beside the warm and humid jungle.

Her books and folios and papers await her, spread across her table.  The trial awaits her.  The entire council, now, as they've created it—the entire town.  All of it waits, barely daring to ask progress, but watching all the while, expectant.  ...Valerian waits.  His peace waits.

Auris closes her hand to a fist as it rests on her knee, willing her mind to clear, resisting the urge to open her eyes.  The room hasn't changed, she knows.  It's still dark but for the single candle; the carved wolf still stands proudly on the altar, haloed by sun and moon.

Lavender and pine.  Breathe in...  Let the memories be impressions, a stream you've dipped your hand in, can feel slipping past, and nothing more.  Breathe out.

The thoughts fade.  Her hand unfurls, resting loosely on her knee.

The room is small, and unadorned besides the altar.  It has a close feel.  A personal one.  A breath of silence in the midst of chaos.

Can she judge alone?  Be the sole arbiter of the matter?  Could she trust someone else to do the same?  They elected the councilors; surely a more democratic system would be fitting, those trials by peers she's been reading of.  But perhaps...if all parties were agreeable, then a single judge would serve well enough—shouldn't they?

A stream, Sunwolf.  A stream, and nothing more.

And what if she can't decide?  What if she decides poorly?  She must build this to last, to stand on its own, but every moment longer she takes Valerian remains at risk.

Auris leans forward, head in her hands.  How did she get herself into all this...  Can they not just banish—but that won't work here.  Can she not just—would it be just to kill the other?  And undermine all the work she's doing...  It'd become as lawless as Freeport, with such a swift and unexplained judgment as precedent—and explaining after the fact would do little, indeed.  It would be based entirely on her own, individual, subjective judgment.  To hand such a precedent to adventurers...  They're already too quick to draw blades—she's already too quick to do so.

She must have patience.

If she takes it only a step at a time, it will be done before she knows it.  She knows at least the shape of the standard structure, now—trial by peers, and...likely with the option for a single judge to oversee matters alone, should all parties be amenable.  Stories should be presented, as should any proof of actions claimed, and judgment made.  There.  That's not so bad.

Auris exhales softly, sitting up once more to resume meditation.  An air of faintly amused satisfaction settles about her, and she finds herself smiling.  At last, she shifts to her knees and bows to the altar, offering thanks for the clarity.

You're welcome.

She sits up, staring at the altar, and the wooden wolf stares back.  The amusement escalates, then fades away, but still there seems another presence.

"Thank you," Auris murmurs, aloud this time, though her tone is touched with wonder and confusion, and she stands and leaves the room still in such a state—and halts, her gaze sweeping upwards, past the white paws, the legs, the ruff of brown fur at its neck, to the golden eyes set even above hers of the massive wolf that sits before her, silhouetted by the bright daylight that streams through the window.

Namaste.  The voice fills her mind.  Aham gūrthern.

Greetings.  I am Gwrtheyrn.

❂

"Miris truly sent you, then?"  Auris watches Gwrtheyrn with some curiosity as the massive wolf pads along beside her.  It's been a while since she felt short; her head barely reaches his shoulder.

Ām.  Upakartuṃ bhavantīṃ.  Yes.  To aid you.  He speaks still in her mind, and though she can sense the connection would function in both ways, she remains wary of it, preferring to speak her thoughts aloud.

"How can you be so certain?"  She's felt Miris' presence before, but...all the same.  This is different.

I...  He hesitates, glancing away with what almost seems to be a frown—though it's hard to tell on a wolf's face.  I know it.  I remember her presence, and I know I am here, and I know I am to aid you.

Auris nods slowly.  "I...have known something similar."  The empty field rises unbidden to her mind, Miris' presence almost oppressive in the memory, and she forces herself away from it before she can picture the bodies.

A sense of sympathy arises in her, and she stops, and realizes it isn't her own, and forces the memory farther away, clearing her conscious mind.  A sense of apology, then, as Gwrtheyrn bows his head to her.  I did not mean to look too far.

"I...see.  This will take some getting used to."

I can only see what you choose to share.

She nods, somewhat reassured.

...but that was not a happy memory, was it?

"...No.  It wasn't."

Where are you from?  I feel I know you, but...  He rolls his head in a gesture she's certain would be a shrug if he had a humanoid form.

"I'm from the mountains.  An island, south of here."  She pauses, but something about the earnest curiosity that shows in his eyes, that she can sense from his mind, prompts her to continue.  "The field is...a place of battle, with our neighbors.  I nearly lost my mother, the day I heard Miris."  A slew of half-finished thoughts swirl through her mind, and she forces them away yet again.

...you are afraid.

Auris halts, and turns away from him to stare into the jungle.  The sun has long passed its zenith, bright in her peripheral vision, casting the lush depths of the jungle into dark contrast.  A pause, and a gentle nudge at her arm, and Gwrtheyrn turns his head to stare up at her with one great, golden eye, the fur beneath his chin still brushing her arm.

It will not change because you ignore it.

Auris turns her hand, lifting it to run her fingers slowly through the fur at his neck.  "No...it won't."

What are you afraid of?

The answer flashes through her mind, and she covers it with a laugh.  "Nothing."  She brushes past him to continue walking.  "Where are you from?" she echoes his question to him.

He lets out a whuff of air and follows.  Miris.

"Hm," she chuckles.  "Fair enough."

Although...  What are the mountains like?

"Oh, they're beautiful.  Covered in forests, and then the Heights, the cliffs—"

Show me.

"It's...quite a ways..."

Here.  Show me, in your mind.  Please?

"Oh."  She pauses, conjuring up an image of home: a game trail through the woods, between the trunks of pines and the berry bushes they'd encouraged to grow there.  A powdered shower of snow as a bird flits off from a branch ahead.  Only the scrunch and creak of snow beneath your feet and the fog of your own breath to keep you company.

...Is it cold?

"It can be."

It feels like home.

She smiles.  "It does."

Do you want to return?

Her smile falters.  "Yes."

Gwrtheyrn tilts his head.  Can you not?

"I have...a lot to do, first."  He watches, silent, and after a moment, she continues, "I left to aid those in Kanara—a city, on the plains below the mountains.  They were attacked by devils, their king revealed to be an imposter...  Half the city was destroyed.  I went to help them rebuild, and to spread the story of the battle.  I was supposed to 'keep public opinion positive.'  Make sure the other cities didn't weary of supporting them as they rebuilt..."

It didn't go well?

"Perhaps it went as well as it could've.  But...no.  It didn't.  They continued supporting it, but one of the cities, Kairos...had too many ideas, and all but took it over in the process."

Oh.

"Not to mention," her voice turns scornful, "they had the gall to blame it on adventurers, on the very ones who saved them all.  All the stories I told...  I was one person.  Kairos had their Orators on every corner, decrying the chaos adventurers brought that allowed such events to transpire.

"...The worst of it was there was a truth to it.  It wasn't true, but there was a truth to it.  There were adventurers entangled in the history of it, making things worse...but they didn't cause it.  And they did end it."

Silence.  Then, Why did you come here?  Is this Kairos?

"Oh.  Oh, no, this is...a new place.  Kairos is on another island.  Also south.  A little closer than Kanara.  This is...a new settlement.  Where all the adventurers went when Kairos outlawed them."

Are you an adventurer?

"No, I—well.  I suppose I am, now.  I came to...clear my mind.  Kanara's council is too weak; it's only folding beneath Kairosian imposition...and I couldn't do anything about it.  Only...watch it falter, and be eaten away to mere figureheads."

So you came here.

"So I came here."

...you regret it?

"No, I...I don't know.  Perhaps.  Perhaps not.  There's...much to be done here."

There's a subtle shift in Gwrtheyrn's posture, a sort of innocent pride to it.  I will help you.

Auris smiles softly.  "Thank you."