Meridith at 38 Years Old

Meridith breathed in the fresh air and lowered her tall, muscular, and statuesque frame beside the elm tree. The shade was nice. The warm canary yellow sun dazed the eye after being in the torchlit catacombs for three days. The Dwelf glanced at the claw mark on her left bicep. Shallow, but it stung, maybe some poison. She looked at the remaining compatriots. Lizzie was limping on her sprained ankle. Leaning against her shield against another elm. Springtime wrapped it in a tight bandage. No reason to waste magic if it would heal on its own.

Meridith ran her fingers through her vibrant rose red hair. She must look as awful as the other two. Springtime came over and poured some healing potion on the claw mark. It stung like the strike itself, but after fizzing and bubbling, the pain died away. Springtime's dark and curly hair betrayed his half Elf half Human heritage. He was a good companion, and almost always thought of others first. His white teeth flashed in a smile in his dark-skinned face. Then it faded. He was thinking of Rogert. Lizzie was too.

The coins and gems gathered from the lair of the Fanged Horror (it had no other name) lay nearly forgotten in the lazy afternoon. Fluffy grey clouds scudded across the velvet blue expanse of sky. It might rain later. They would get wet, but comfort was a small thing after their loss. Meridith had known her the longest. The Half Dwarf took after her Human mother and though she was born a man, she had always thought of herself as a woman after a few of confusing years.

Lizzie, wincing at her ankle, hefted the leather goods bag from beside her to between her short legs. The Dwarf ran her fingers through the treasure. Mostly silver with some copper, brass and gold shined as she hauled out a handful and let the light dazzle her eyes. She was the greediest of the three, but she had sworn an oath not to betray the others. To her Dwarf Clan an oath was important, and she had kept her end well. Then she spotted the ring. Silver it was yet shining as with its own inner light. For a fraction of a moment, she nearly pocketed it, but Meridith was watching her. She held it out for Springtime. The oath would stay honored.

Springtime took the ring and leaned against one of five beech trees that grew near the edge of the woods. Saying some mumbled words and gesturing grandiosely. He always gestured grandiosely. A rift opened between theirs and the Spirit Realm. An old man, corporeal in his own Realm, became a shade when crossing over to the Mortal Realm. Dim in the bright sun, he conversed with the tall, lanky Half-Elf. The pair looked down upon the ring in the wide dark palm. Soon both nodded, and the shade retreated to the Realm of Spirits. Springtime kept fondling the ring.

“It is a Ring of Fire Protection.” He said with a gleam in his eye.

The gray clouds dispersed, and the threat of rain dissipated. Soon they were thinking about their survival, and the riches that would keep them in food and bed for a few months more. They would need another tracker.