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It was his first day on the road since joining with the other tadpole-abductees, and Wyll was optimistic about their survival. He had been surprised to see the variety of those who'd been infected; but on the other hand, he supposed mind flayers held no prejudices when it came to picking hosts for their monstrous spawn. However, This had proven to be to their advantage- they had a strong fighter, a talented wizard, a cleric, an elf gifted with bow and lockpick, and a ranger whose cautious demeanor and unwavering calm helped pull them all together.
The ranger in question raised her arm to halt their party's walk through the forest.
“ Wait,” she breathed. Everyone behind her, including him, came to an immediate stop. Despite not knowing each other for more than a day or two, they all had come to know that when Zepharah said something, you listened. She was a survivalist and a wilds-woman of the first degree, and often saw or sensed danger before the rest of them.
“There's a beast ahead,” she whispered. “Just around this rock. Exercise caution.”
Wyll leaned slightly to the right to get a peek around the boulder, only to laugh. “Why Zepharah! That's no beast, that's a common dog!” He sidestepped her outstretched arm to get a better look, leaving her scowling behind him. The dog in question was white, but stained with blood. It yipped at them from where it stood, not moving from the human corpse at its side.
“That's rather dismal,” Gale muttered, moving to follow. “Certainly no place for man's best friend.”
Wyll slowly approached the animal, careful not to startle it. “I wonder how it ended up here?”
Behind them, Zepharah sighed, reluctant to be involved. “It probably belonged to that demolished caravan back on the road.”
“And now it's forced to feed off the body of its old master,” Astarion piped in, unsolicited. “How positively dreadful.” The tone of his voice, however, was far more theatrical than anything else.
“No, no, Astarion,” Wyll chided. I don't think he's eating him. He's…guarding him, I wager.”
Gale hmed, leaning on his staff. “Poor thing. I tend to prefer animal companions that lean towards the feline side of nature's genetic tree, but it can't be denied that the dog is an excellent creature to have around. No doubt he was happily following his master along up until the moment he died; and now here he waits, loyal to the last.”
Wyll and Gale made eye contact. Perhaps it was the tadpole, or perhaps it was their apparently shared fondness for pets, but they both came to the same conclusion. It must've been the tadpole, because Zepharah came to it as well.
“No. We're not keeping the dog.”
Both of them responded simultaneously.
“He's not going to survive out here by himself!”
“Oh, come now. It couldn't hurt to take in the poor stray.”
“He'll survive just fine,” she said, unrelenting.
Wyll frowned. She was a stubborn one, but surely even she couldn't resist the pleading of an abandoned animal.
“Perhaps in a normal situation, yes,” he reasoned. “But this isn't a normal situation. There are goblins everywhere, not to mention the gnolls. And if that boar up the road was any indication, there might be a rogue vampire roaming around here as well.”
“He would make for a delicious late night snack…for a vampire, of course,” Astarion mumbled from the back.
Zepharah turned on him, incredulous. “Are you saying we should keep the dog?”
“No!” The pale elf snapped. “By all means, leave the wretched creature! It can be gnoll food, for all I care.”
“Oh, but look at the poor thing,” Gale crooned. Wyll found himself growing fonder of their wizard by the minute. “He's clearly starving.”
“A dog is more than capable of hunting for itself,” she shot back.
“Ah- ha!” Wyll beamed. “That's the spirit! It can hunt for itself! We just need to take it back to camp to make sure it's not injured. Give him a fresh start in life!”
“And,” Gale added before Zepharah could disagree, “What if he takes a liking to us? Then perhaps he could aid in hunting for our party’s supper. Pay us back for looking out for him here. Hypothetically, of course.”
Wylls’ smile widened. Yes, he liked Gale very much. Zepharah, on the other hand, just looked irritated. Her lips were drawn into a thin line as she glanced briefly up into the sky. “... Fine. How do you expect to bring this dog back to camp?”
He smiled at her appreciatively. That icy facade of hers would melt soon enough, he was sure of it. He turned to the dog- it seemed calm enough, but his tail remained stock still and its ears were back. That needed to change, if they were to adopt him. He crouched and tilted his head at the pup before beckoning to it as welcomingly as he could.
“Come here, boy! Come here and let me look at you!... I've got a treat!” He took a stick of jerky from his pack and held it out tentatively. The dog, however, was unamused. He raised its hackles and let out a low growl.
Behind him, Astarion snickered. Wyll's brows met in a confused line- he had convinced their leader, but could he convince the dog himself that he belonged at their camp?
Zepharah spoke quietly behind him as he continued his efforts. Surely the pup would warm up to him in a few minutes.
“Perhaps it's not a dog. Maybe it's a shape-shifter. Can you tell, Gale?”
“And…how would I be able to tell, exactly?”
“I'm not sure. Wouldn't it…radiate magic, or something?”
“... You really have no idea how magic works, do you?”
She huffed. “... No.”
Wyll smirked as he tried again to lure the dog in with the jerky, but to no avail.
“It would help if I knew his name,” he lamented. The sad thing was obviously confused and frightened. If he could just tempt him back to camp, where they had food for him to eat, he was sure he would perk up.
“... The name is Scratch,” Zepharah said after a hesitation. “It says there. On its collar.”
As if on cue, Scratch’s ears perked up.
“ There we go,” he said. “C’mere, Scratch. I'm not going to hurt you. Thank you, Zepharah- I didn't even see the collar.” It was so obstructed by the long, white fur that he had somehow completely missed it.
“What you may lack in magical talent, you make up for in keen eyesight, my friend,” Gale added. “I certainly didn't see the collar either.”
“Try just holding out your hand,” Zepharah instructed him. “Leave the jerky on the ground. He'll be able to use your scent to find us from there, if he so chooses.”
“Look who wants the dog now,” Astarion mocked, but Wyll didn't pay him any mind. Instead he inched closer to the pup, and slowly placed the jerky on the ground, all the while attempting to soothe him with his voice. He reached out a hand, and was thrilled when Scratch stopped growling long enough to give it a sniff.
“There's a good fellow,” he murmured. Scratch really was a fine-looking mutt; once they got some food in its belly and the blood off its fur, he'd be right as rain. He might even be convinced to play a game of fetch!
As if reading his mind, (which she very well could be, he reminded himself) Zepharah spoke. “Now leave it. That's the best you can do. If he finds us, he finds us.”
He straightened up with a sigh. “Thank you, for humoring me. I had a pup like him long ago, when I was still just a kid in Baldur's Gate. It felt wrong to just leave this one here, and do nothing.”
His usually stoic companion seemed to soften, if only a little.
“Very well. For your sake then, I hope we see him again.”
Besides her, Gale was smiling. It hit him again how truly fortunate they all were to find themselves together in this horrible situation. Threat of ceremorphosis may be near but at least he had good company. Good enough that if he ever found Karlach out here in these wilds, they may just help him fulfill his oath.
Astarions’ voice broke the moment. “There's goblins on the road ahead. Are we going to kill them or not?”
He felt his face break out into a grin. “Of course, Astarion!” He reached out to clap his companion on the back. “Thanks for keeping us on track.”
“Don't. Touch me,” the elf said curtly. He was a prickly one to be sure, but just like Scratch, Wyll had a feeling he would warm up.
“Perhaps they can tell us about the druid Halsin,” Zepharah mused, already turning to lead them back towards the blighted village.
“I'm rather curious as to whether they follow this new ‘Absolute’ God those other ones at the grove were going on about,” Gale added. Wyll fell into step beside him.
“You're a religious man, I take it?”
“Well naturally! As a wizard, I'm inclined to worship the goddess of magic, Mystra…”
-
Wyll woke to the sound of someone knocking on one of his tent posts. He groggily rolled over and jumped to see Zepharah standing ominously at the entrance.
“Wyll.”
“Good…. Good morning? Or should I say night?” He grumbled. It had been a very long day, and he didn't particularly appreciate being woken up before the sun rose.
“Look,” she replied simply, and then pulling the tent flap aside, pointed across camp.
He rubbed his eyes and fought not to collapse back into his bedroll and refuse whatever it was his companion was trying to show him. But he was capable of being patient, he reminded himself, and could humor this one time.
Squinting, at first he saw nothing. But as the blurriness faded from his vision, an abnormal patch of white came into view.
“By the gods…” His heart leapt and suddenly he was as awake as if it were noonday. “... Scratch?”
“We have a spare piece of meat from dinner. I suggest you feed it to him.”
He stammered for a moment, then pulled himself out of bed and out into the open.
“Yes!... Of course! Zepharah- thank you.” He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder, hoping that communicated his gratitude. He was pleased to discover she didn't immediately flinch away.
“Don't thank me. I'm not the one who decided you were charming enough to follow back to camp.”
He chuckled. “Yes, of course. But thank you anyway.”
The corners of her lips tugged up into the largest smile she'd given him to date, and he couldn't help but feel warmth blooming in his chest as made his way over to Scratch. He was even more delighted when the pup enthusiastically devoured their leftovers. He even let Wyll pet him a few times before curling up to sleep by the ashes of their campfire. Hesitant to leave his newfound friend, Wyll moved his bedroll out of his tent to lay beside him, but returning to sleep proved difficult.
It had been two days since the abduction. He'd be lying if every faint headache, every chill, every hint of soreness in his bones didn't set his nerves on edge. Would it be today? Tonight? Tomorrow? Lae'zel had charmingly described ceremorphosis to them all earlier, and had left him feeling sicker than ever. On top of it all, there was still the threat of her. He took a deep sigh, looking up into the stars. What havoc must she be wreaking, while he was snuggled into bed? She had been on the mind flayer ship- he was the one who chased her onto it- so she must be somewhere in the area. He doubted that a woman with such hellish attributes just died in the crash.
Next to him scratch stirred, letting out a sad whine. It pulled Wyll out of his reverie. Karlach was out here, and he would find her and end her. If they solved the tadpole situation before or after the fact, that was all the better.
He reached over and gave Scratch's ears a tussle. The world was not short on horrors, but despite it all, he was glad to be in a camp with good people. Scratch stood up, only to snuggle closer to his side, bringing a warm smile to his face. Good people and now, one very good dog.