You awaken to the sound of hammer and anvil

CLANG clang

Your consciousness gradually swims up out of the black sea of your mercifully dreamless sleep. Softness surrounds you and you are pleasantly warm and comfortable for what feels like the first time in a month.

CLANG clang

You open your eyes. You are inside a stone building with a high ceiling. Sitting up, a linen blanket falls down to your lap; you look down and see that you are sitting in the middle of a large, plush cushion. A centaur bed, probably.

CLANG clang clang

The blanket is dyed a rich forest green and skillfully embroidered with intricate patterns which loop and cross over themselves repeatedly. You're naked under the blanket, but that doesn't really bother you. The Starchasers don't seem to have much of a nudity taboo and you're pretty sure this is Brighid's house; she's seen everything you have already.

CLANG clang

The sheet falls away from your front as you stand up, but you have to reach back and disengage it from your tail. It's curious, you think to yourself, how little my tail gets in the way even though I've only had one for a few days now. You take a moment to examine it, not having given the matter much thought until the vines-- your mind shies away from the memory.

CLANG clang clang

Your tail is about half a meter long, thin and covered with skin the same color and texture as the rest of your body. At its base, it's a little thicker than your thumb, and it narrows slightly along its length until it widens into a sort of flanged diamond shape at the tip, sort like a Phillips-head screwdriver. When you consciously think about it, you have a reasonable degree of control over the appendage; you can twist it into various shapes, curl it around your leg, wave it back and forth in the air, and so on. When you aren't actively controlling it, it seems to mostly default to hanging limply straight down behind you. That must be why it doesn't interfere with your clothes, you've just been subconsciously stuffing it down one pants leg. Thinking about some of the stories you have read in the past, you cautiously stroke the end of your tail with one finger, but it doesn't feel any more sensitive than, say, the palm of your hand.

CLANG clang

Letting your tail fall back down between your legs, you look around the inside of Brighid's home. It's a single-story, one-room building, rather simple in design, though spacious. The bed is set up in one corner, there is a wooden chest of drawers which presumably contains shirts and other clothing items, an armor and weapon rack with her personal equipment, a series of cabinets lined with hooks from which dangle cooking implements, a fireplace with space for cooking, and several barrels, crates, and sacks which presumably contain various foodstuffs. A narrow wooden table sits in the center of the room, surrounded by padded cushions. You look at it critically and decide that you would need a high chair to sit at the table, but would probably be OK standing.

CLANG clang clang

Brighid herself is nowhere to be seen, but given the rhythmic pounding of metal on metal you have been hearing coming from outside, it's not hard to guess where she is. You wrap the blanket around you like a toga -- Starchasers may not have a nudity taboo and Brighid may have already seen you naked, but you still don't feel comfortable leaving her home naked as you are -- and head out the door to see what she's working on. The sounds of her smithcraft are much louder without the stone walls to muffle them.

CLANG CLANG

You turn the corner of her home towards the open-air forge and lean against the wall. Brighid is facing partially away from you, so you have a chance to watch her work without her knowing you're there. She is wearing a long leather shirt with a tail which dangles down between her forelegs to cover her front completely and what looks more or less like a leather blanket over her equine body and legs. Her hair is braided and wrapped in another scrap of leather. She also has a stiff leather apron on for further protection from sparks and other mishaps which come from hitting heated metal with large heavy objects.

CLANG CLANG CLANG

She is holding a bar of metal glowing whitish-yellow on the anvil with one hand; the heated portion of the bar is attached to a thinner, non-heated rod of metal which she uses to hold it in place. Her other hand hefts a smith's hammer, simple in its design with a narrow flat-tipped head, which nonetheless probably weighs at least a kilogram. Her arm rises and falls in a smooth rhythm, striking the metal bar in a series of precise blows along its length. Sparks fly and the hue of the bar's glow shifts slowly but noticeably from yellow to orange to red.

CLANG CLANG

When it dims to a bright cherry red, Brighid sets her hammer down on the anvil then turns completely away from you as she takes a step towards her furnace, placing the bar of metal into the narrow mouth and then casting a spell to heat the interior. There are a pair of bellows attached to the side of the furnace to stoke the flames, but it looks like Brighid either isn't a traditionalist or isn't in the mood to bother with that today. You take a moment to once again admire the firm roundness of her rump and the slight coppery sheen of her fur.

After a little while, the metal is back to glowing yellow-white and she withdraws it from the furnace, then turns to place it back on the anvil. Her face lights up with happiness when she sees you, but she says, "Stay over there for just a moment, Aidan. I just heated this up and there's no sense wasting the effort." She gives you a warm smile, then turns back to her work.

CLANG CLANG CLANG

Her hammer rises and falls and a sense of peace washes over you as you watch her work. Her movements are smooth and sure and almost mesmerizing to watch.

CLANG CLANG

CLANG CLANG CLANG

CLANG

Brighid beats the metal down to a dull red this time, then steps back and wipes her brow. She carefully lifts the still incredibly hot metal bar and pushes it into a barrel full of what looks like sand, then hangs her hammer on the wall, takes off her apron and the leather blanket which covered her horsey bits, and strides over to you. She bends down and pulls you into a tight hug, which due to your relative heights pushes your head into the valley between her breasts. You nuzzle into her embrace and she laughs, pushing you back away from her by the shoulders and smiling down at you.

"You look better. Well-rested, at least. Are you feeling any better?" There is genuine concern in her voice.

You nod and respond, "A little. I don't hurt everywhere any more, at least. When I woke up after ... after what happened--" You try to tell her about your trip back to the village, but she just presses a soft finger to your lips and shakes her head at you.

"It is alright, I understand. I could tell you pushed yourself to your limits to come back as quickly as you could, and that is all I need to know." She eyes you critically and follows up, "And I would bet you did not stop to eat anything, or even have anything with you to eat, did you?" At your sheepish expression and shake of the head, she just says, "Men! You are all the same, regardless of race, I swear. Come on, I will make us some food and then we can go down to the river and you can scrub me down again. I worked up a sweat in the forge and I would rather not face the Council smelling of it. And do not even dare say anything about how you can go talk to them alone. I am your Companion."