The storm winds were so strong that wraithvine's hat blew off faster than ze could hold it down. Inside the sheltering cave a mixed species family soon hurried in, with a little kobold hatchling proudly prancing with the pointed thing in hir maw. -- Fighting Fit
In all other ways, it was just a hat. To Wraithvine, it was hir hat, a most special hat. Ze had made it when ze first decided to be a Wizard and ze had been repairing it ever since. By now, it was debatable that there was any thread of the original remaining. Nevertheless, it was Wraithvine's hat. Making a new one would hurt.
Hir life was technically more important. Even when ze was technically deathless, it never did hir any good to tempt an encounter with mortality. Besides, hir goddess would be pissed at hir.
Further in Wraithvine's disadvantage, ze had companions far more mortal than ze was. Getting them to shelter was more important than a hat. Their cavern shelter was shallow enough to keep the wind and sleet off them, and more importantly, space enough to open hir portable tower. Or it would have been if ze didn't keep the tower inside hir hat.
Zokk the Barbarian said it best: "Fuck."
"Quite royally so," agreed Lord Plenthowe, the engineer. "I can deploy my emergency sheltering device. All I need is a little fire in the ignition port."
Fleet, the thief, found the furthest place from Plenthowe in their little cavern. There, they ducked and covered. Wraithvine felt halfway inclined to join them. Fortunately, fate rescued them in the form of a patchwork family. A Hellkin, a Halfbred Harukh, and a Kobold child skipping and hopping between them with a fabric article in their mouth.
A patchwork article.
A very familiar patchwork article.
The little family entered the short cave, panting and blowing and occasionally trying to field their baby Kobold. "Sorry," said the half-Harukh. "We got caught in the storm like you did, and our Pebble has the zoomies."
"Dear," The Hellkin sighed, finally catching Pebble in mid leap. "That's not nutritious or delicious. Spit."
Pebble growled. Clinging to the hat with hands and teeth.
"Sorry," apologised the Halfbred Harukh again. "They're teething."
Wraithvine dug into hir extensive pockets and provided strips of cartilage that had been braided, knotted, and dried. "Perhaps something healthier to chew?"
Fair exchange made, Wraithvine retrieved hir hat. Which was now enriched by baby Kobold dentition and drool. That could be mended. For now, ze enriched everyone's storm experience by opening up access to hir portable tower.
A much larger, much more amenable, and much less dangerous shelter than the shallow cavern or Plenthowe's patented weather rebuffing device.
"What are those strips, please?" begged the Hellkin. "We've been at wits end getting something decent for Pebble to chew on."
"Pig ear strips, braided into chews before they were dried." A little mortification made him add, "I... usually have them for dogs."
"If it works, they're for our baby now," said the Halfbred.
[Photo by Erik Mclean on Unsplash]
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