Chapter Text
“It’s your turn tonight.” Shadowheart said, shrugging her loose armor off by the fire. It was a cool night tonight in the wilderness.
“I thought it was Astarion’s turn?” Wyll said, eyeing the vampire who was currently dabbing the corners of his mouth with an ornate kerchief.
“Oh please, Wyll darling, familiarize yourself with the chores list. I’m hunting NEXT week.” Astarion smirked. “Then after me, it’s Karlach’s turn. Then Lae’zel, then Halsin, then-”
“Alright, I believe you.” Wyll groaned.
They had had a long day already, the last thing Wyll was in the mood for was to track, hunt, then lug a dead animal all the way back to camp. He missed the days when everyone fended for themselves, before anyone really trusted each other. At least then he didn’t have to haul so much game back to camp. And Karlach just HAD to introduce the idea of a chores list.
“It sets a good precedent in the group. Everyone pitches in and carries their weight. It’s also good for morale!” She said when she pitched it.
Of course, most group members were opposed. But Wyll vouched for her idea, saying it would be net-positive for everyone who chose to stay in the group. And now that he was running around in the woods, trying to beat the setting sun, tracking what seemed to be a wild boar.
Do I smell something burning? He perked up, turning north where the air seemed to be clouded by smoke. Right, he remembered. The burning village of Waukeen’s Rest, where Florrick and her Fists had been earlier that day, fighting off against goblins and drows. Many didn’t make it out that day.
Wyll was happy to see a familiar face, but Florrick’s bad news about Captain Ravenguard soured the reunion. His own father captured by the Absolute’s cultists… Worry had plagued him all day since then. And now that he was alone in the woods, the solitude only reminded him of how lonely he had been ever since his father cast him out of Baldur’s Gate.
Sometimes Wyll wished it was easier to hate him. To resent what Captain Ravenguard did to his own son. And now with this new set of horns on his head, Wyll could only imagine how hateful his father would be at the sight of him.
“Shit!” Tripping over a hidden root, Wyll tumbled ass-first to the forest floor. He cursed himself for being so uncharacteristically clumsy before shaking it off. Just as he got to his feet, Wyll’s keen eye spotted a burrow that was lazily hidden by some brush. “Don’t mind if I do.” Pushing away the leaves and twigs, Wyll peeked inside. That was when he heard the most unexpected thing.
It was a delicate coo. And a high-pitched one at that. Looking closer, hidden in the dim burrow under the tree, Wyll could see a raggedy bundle.
“By the gods…” His jaw dropped as he reached both hands in and gently carried out the small find. “A… A baby?” He wondered before peeling off the rags.
As he suspected, it was a babe. And a tiefling babe at that with two tiny horns and a tail. It had little tufts of black hair on its large head.
What in the hells? Someone abandoned their child? Wyll thought to himself. Probably a victim of the goblins. Or perhaps its parents just didn’t want a tiefling child. It wasn’t uncommon.
“Where did you come from, hey?” Wyll rocked the rotund child, admiring its adorable, chubby cheeks. “Did your parents hide you from the monsters?”
Keeping the child close to his chest, he leaned over and peeked inside the burrow again. He then found the parchment that had been hidden underneath the babe. With one hand, he reached in and retrieved it.
We’re sorry. Please forgive us. We love you
Wyll despised the cryptic nature of the note. How was that supposed to help the child? And what was he to do? Every direction leads to fire and ash thanks to the goblins. One way was the sea, the other way was the Shadow-Cursed Lands, as Halsin liked to keep reminding everyone. To the north was the ruins of several goblin-riddled villages (all now slain), to the south was the forsaken bog, crawling with red caps and swarmed with mosquitos.
“What to do with you.” He sighed, looking down at the babe who had finally opened its eyes. They were quite green and glowed beautifully in the twilight. “Hello there. You’re alright, eh? You’re alright.”
Rocking the child, Wyll looked around, scanning the woods for any signs of an ambush. He had recalled that sometimes brigands would use their own children as bait. A tasteless way to get the jump on someone, he believed. But there was no sign of anything that meant trouble. Perhaps this babe truly was all alone.
Not if Wyll had anything to say about it.