After being pulled there by the almost inevitable call of the Ache, it had taken Scarcity some time to settle in to the rhythm of swamp life. She'd had to relearn how to walk, basically, because all of the terrains here were so wildly different from the desert, had to learn how to swim better, had to learn what was best to eat and when, had to learn how to kill crocodiles and alligators that tried to eat her - just, lots of thing. It had taken far too long, in her opinion, to learn all the vital survival skills and make it around to the more fun stuff, like where all the good parties were at - basically only among other migrant acha. What songs were popular here - mostly boring old stories. What dances were hot - not many. What the dating scene was like...
Well. The last one hadn't disappointed, at least. There was quite a bit of variety, once she'd finally gotten to test the waters, she'd found both the quality and variety of the selection quite satisfying. It was, perhaps, a little irritating that her first hookup in a year or more had led to a belly full of growing eggs - and she'd been through this before, there was no mistaking her condition. It was time, then, to see what another new feature of swamp life was like - the mythical stags and mares, those blessed by the swamp with strange powers, most pertinent to Dearth safeguarding the health of a clutch. There were a number of them about - and apparently there hadn't been until not long before all the not-kimeti kin started showing up at the swamp, a really juicy story, she could tell - and she'd done some research as to who would be the best to find. A lot of them seemed to specialize in certain things, this one in endurance and that one in hunting, one for her gentle nature and carefully crafted charms and another for, and there was no way to put this politely, being a cranky old hermit. She'd chosen the storyteller, a polite fellow who was by turns dignified and comical, but always stood up for what was right, and was always ready to aid those in need.
She'd learned where he was expected to perform next, and was about to set out on a journey to find him. She was understandably a little startled when he emerged from a thicket nearby, coming from almost the same direction she'd been intending to set out in. He seemed relieved to see her, much to her surprise, and she had just enough time to wonder if he'd known she was seeking him when he said, "Ah, good morning! I seem to be quite lost. Would you mind pointing me towards the territory of the Dream Guides?"
With a smirk, the acha said, "It's funny you should ask - I was just on my way there myself. It's about two days' steady walk that-a-ways," indicating the direction with one dainty leg.
The stag's expression became bleak. "I just came from that way. Do you mean to tell me I've overshot my destination by two days?! Dreadful. Simply dreadful," he sighed and shook his head. "If I missed it the first time 'round, obviously I'll need a guide. Since you were headed that way anyways, would it bother you terribly if I tagged along?"
"That'd be pretty helpful, since I was headed there to find you," she said with a grin and a wink. She laughed at his surprise - the face he'd made was awfully funny! - and pranced to his side. "I'd meant to ask you for a blessing, since I'm in the family way."
"Your first time with child?" the storyteller asked, at a loss.
"No, no," she corrected him. "First time getting a blessing - I've been wondering how they're done. They sound nothing short of miraculous," she said, eyes sparkling with a curiosity just a little reverence short of wonder.
He'd been caught off guard before, and recently - he hoped it wasn't becoming a pattern. For now, the stag decided to cut the theatrics and simply explain - "They're ah, a little unglamorous in practice, I'm afraid. It varies from kin to kin, but the way mine work is with a physical token," and he emphasizes that with a rustle of his leafy stole, "representative of the gift the swamp has given me being passed to you."
Scarcity recognized the plant, and wrinkled her nose. "Eugh, mint? Do I have to eat it?"
Breeze couldn't help but pout a bit. "Yes, you do. You can swallow it whole, if you like."
Before he could say more, or hand a sprig to her on his own, she leaned in and took a bite, swallowing it with obvious distaste.
"I - well," he spluttered, "May ah, your children be healthful and such, and with a touch of your daring. Not too much, hopefully," he added, which made her laugh again.
"Goodness, I do like you," she said, tossing her head, "though I really do wish you'd picked a different herb to wear. This trip should be a bit of fun, hey?"
And, despite being off balance for most of their first meeting, Breeze couldn't help smiling too. "And interesting, I'd wager."
"Then let's be off!" the acha caroled, and hopped lightly into the trees.
The stag set off after her, calling, "Wait - what was your name?"