Rebel Or Diplomat?

“What are you blathering about, fool cat?!” The wrathful inquiry comes the instant the name leaves your lips. Rowan, still heated from yet another indignant scree, stomps up from behind, obviously feeling slighted for the interruption. So enveloped by the demons of your past that you don't even flinch when a fluffy mitt rudely bounces off your shoulder. Getting no immediate response, the owl follows up with, “Reckon?! Reckoning what!” Whether it's wilful ignorance or just Rowan’s usual brand of brainwork at play, you do not know. The ridiculous mispronunciation does catch in your ear, though, shaking you from the grip of darker days.

“RAHKen”, you correct, spitting out the name like a bitter swill. Your venomous response must have caught the ranger off balance as his ongoing pontification is quickly silenced. You don’t waste the blessed peace.

“He's always been at odds with the elders… thought they were ‘overly concerned’ with tradition. Said they were holding us back.” Rowan, to his credit, remains silent as you work through the line of reasoning. Assuming you finally have his attention, you continue uninterrupted. “The Weavile was a cruel prick, a monster…” You trail off as your mind races to find a hole in your hypothesis, desperately hoping to be proven wrong. The notion, sickening as it be, was the simplest answer. No matter how you search for alternatives, the glaringly obvious conclusion takes root.

“He has done something..”

Whether he had somehow convinced Elder Loric to adopt a more aggressive stance towards the forest's other residents, or he had simply taken control by ****, you did not know. What was certain is that he had likely altered the path of the clan to the detriment of all. You relay the dismal theory to Rowan, the normally petulant man showing remarkable restraint as you lay down the harsh truth. When finished with your summation, the owl removes his judgmental eyes from you to set them upon the darkness beyond, quietly analyzing everything that's been said. After another tense pause, with you not so subtly avoiding the ranger's intermittent gaze, a long exhale draws attention back to the man and his response.

“You are familiar with this upstart, then.” The words are deadpan, bereft of any upward inflection that might usually accompany a question. The laser focus his eyes now fix you with remove any doubt that he’d made a statement rather than an inquiry. With no reason to mislead the man you merely return his intense gaze, offering a small nod to affirm his suspicions. Your quick response prompts a smug *Tch* from your feathered counterpart, your perceptive ears catching the derisive “Figures..” he mutters after. You let it fall upon the growing pile of slights the rude man has paid you, of course. Though his next comment is harder to ignore.

“Then it’s decided.”

A quizzical look must have set upon your features as the ranger fixes you with an annoyed stare, the accompanying sigh denoting his exasperation. Not sparing a moment for your confusion, Rowan rolls right ahead. “As you have admitted to having intimate insight into this new threat, you’ve given me ****.” Again his words take on a professional hue, needlessly boisterous and sounding out of place for his audience of one. His posture straightens into a firm, authoritative stature, with wing arms crossed over a puffed up chest. The display, prim and proper as it is, does little to distract from the ebbing wobbles of his plump belly set in motion by the pose. Despite the ridiculous scene, his ominous words set your hackles on edge, the implications hinting at another confrontation.

“You will be remanded to my custody forthwith and return to the Nest to share what you know.”

You blink in astonishment, unconsciously cocking a brow at the unexpected request. Taken aback by the man's boldness, you gawk at the Decidueye as he stands there, unflinching in the face of your bewilderment. When your failure to reply runs long, Rowan picks up the slack, his firm tone leaving no room for misunderstanding his intent.

“You have insinuated that these 3 Weavile headsmen might have accepted the rule of one you have intimate knowledge of.” Though you know he didn’t mean it, his careless usage of those words threatened to drudge up the most vile of your buried glimmers of the past. Desiring nothing of the sort, you focus on what next he says. “If this theory of yours has indeed come to pass, our understanding of the region and its key figures may have grown stale. We cannot abide this oversight and you will fill in the gaps.” His demands, while not without some merit, have you at odds. The prospect of learning more about the troubles that plague the region is a tempting opportunity, despite the worrying involvement of your former clan. You also don’t wish to undo the work you’d put in to gain some semblance of trust with this Rowan fellow. His contacts within this mysterious central power, this ‘Nest’ as he’d named it, could provide powerful allies for the trials ahead.

The drawbacks couldn’t be ignored though. To accept his ‘offer’ would mean putting off your journey just as it had begun to get underway. The map gifted to you from the Chieftain of Cove Crest was there resting in your satchel, begging to be gone over in detail during a quiet reprieve. There was also the possibility that Rowan wasn’t being entirely forthcoming about his desire to safeguard you to a welcoming bastion deep within the wood. His bravado was earnest, to be sure, denoting some sense of duty that drives the man. Though, you can’t be sure that submitting to his whims won’t end in you becoming a meal when your usefulness has run its course. He’d be leading you into a fortified commune and, if he was to be believed, manned by legions of well trained warriors, each with their own reasons for hating your kind. Ultimately, you’d sacrificed too much and avoided a grim fate one too many times to simply lay down your quest. Especially now, since you’d finally received a proper lead to set your heading. With your mind made, you steeled yourself for the owls' stubborn rebuke.

“I would travel with you, Rowan, both to provide any assistance I could against the threats that be and also to prove myself more than your justified suspicions…” It’s nothing short of a minor miracle, based on the vicious look spreading across his beak, that the ranger doesn’t interrupt your obvious refusal with a fiery outburst. Knowing you likely only have moments before pissy words or streaking quills come your way, you hurriedly get to your point. “But.. I am unable to join you at this time. I must continue northward in my search for answers so as to shed light on this viral plague that endangers not only those of the Great Expanse, but of all the land… Surely you can accept…” In deference to the scout, he did repress his vitriol for longer than you had expected, though it doesn’t make the forthcoming barrage any less tumultuous.

“What I will accept, Sneasel, is no less than your complete and total cooperation!” His rude interruption notwithstanding, the Decidueye manages to keep from screeching his words. The weighty edge placed upon each syllable coupled with those glaring violet orbs leaves little room for negotiation, however. “Despite what we might think of the other, you have claimed to possess information vital to the safety of my people! Duty demands that I deliver you to the Nest for debriefing.” A heated exhale punctuates the obviously mandatory request, his furrowed gaze watching intently for your response. When you hesitate a moment too long for the bird's liking, he makes his displeasure known as one hand slowly reaches back for his quiver of volatile ordinance. “I grow weary of this game, Kale…” His other hand grasps at the vine hanging from his leafy hood, tugging softly on the improvised bowstring.

“I will have your answer..”

With the ultimatum issued, you’re left with little choice. Rowan has made it clear that any attempt leave his side would lead to another spat that neither of you have the vigor for. With both of your wounds still fresh from the infected’s ****, the pair of you stand uneasily upon the gently swaying branch of the ancient oak. This might have provided you a fair chance at taking the ranger in a quick brawl if it weren’t for the black splotches dancing about your vision. It’d been nearly a full day since you’d left Cove Crest, most of which had been spent running and climbing. To say you weren’t in peak condition for a bout amongst the branches would be a grave understatement. Though, you knew that trusting the man wasn’t an option either as the best case would see your journey delayed for an unclear amount of time. The worst case being that you looked at someone the wrong way and were dealt with accordingly.

No… You had to bid this frustrating archer adieu, and you had to ensure he couldn’t give chase. Question was, how best to go about it? Fast and decisive, or subtle and underhanded.

Best decide quickly, you thought.

The clock is ticking.