Sirana decides to spice things up by making a generous offer of assistance to Drasta...

Opportunities, such as Sirana called them, were presently bleak. Even this long after her encounter with Cassius, she could still feel the bruises on her thigh from his sudden, long-range assault. To think that she could have died then and there! Another thing was the sudden reticence of the small wildlife population thanks to the spreading rumours of Staggs and the like. Only Fern Hill and Haven seemed to provide proper refuge, but she had no desire to return to any of them. Even so, she would often glance in the direction of one or the other and ponder, jealously and shamefully, the prospects for her should she choose to wander towards their environs. Yet she knew that would have broken her self-compact, to live off the land without dependence on anyone, anyone at all. She would have given much to excite her present existence in ways that didn't involve her scampering from predators or mad rats, but for now she was forced to rely upon the regularities of feeding as her sole source of physical activity.

Drasta moves through the underbrush a good deal more quietly than anyone of her size should be able to. The intimidating she-Stagg is clad in her usual pelt cloak, her eyes narrowed, ears pricked--clearly on the hunt as she approaches.

Sirana's tree-branch musing find interruption as Drasta creeps along below, the unmistakable mossy scent of the she-Stagg reaching her nostrils. Sudden relief and mischief surged in her, realizing that this may present a method for her to break from the pattern of ennui. She crawls down from her perch carefully along the tree side and spies on the Stagg, the sight of her recalling tales she'd gathered about a female Stagg having been overcome by an 'indestructible' rat. Hmm... "Having any luck, madame?" she asks slyly, her grinning face peering at Drasta.

Drasta turns, her large Bowie knife drawn and held at the ready. "Not until you showed up, dearie," she replies. Her eyes eyes rove Sirana's form, and she smiles. "What a beautiful coat you have...shall I make you part of my cloak, or perhaps a belt?"

Sirana smirks. "Cheeky girlie, aren't you?" She slides down the tree with the aid of her claws and lands on the roots, crossing her arms and leaning against the trunk like a fop. "Sorry, but I'm not quite done using this coat yet. You'll have to wait in line with everything else that's tried to kill me. ;) Though, I did hear this funny story about you, well, failing in a hunt?"

Drasta chuckles darkly, and steps closer. "I am that. If so many want your blood, why antagonize me? Unless, of course, you simply wish to end it all and lack the resolve to do it yourself?" She pauses, listening. "What of it?" she asks.

Sirana blinks. Apparently being a Stagg meant lacking an acute sense of humour. No wonder they're so violent. "Oh, nothing much, really," she says, starting to promenade about in a churlish way. "I mean, I suppose even a powerful huntress such as yourself can make a silly, childish mistake of taking on someone who's clearly better than you, am I right?"

Drasta snorts. "Is this going somewhere, child? Because if not, I'll just skin you and call it a day."

Sirana chuckles. "Child? I'm probably twice as old as you are, believe it or not. I know a thing or two about how the world outside the sewers works, and I know that brute strength isn't enough to win a battle. You have to strike them..." She waggles her fingers in front of her eyes. "...where they least expect it." She grins and prances towards a different tree. "Say, this 'invincible rat' I've heard about...He wouldn't happen to be, I dunno, around your height, carried a huge blade, liked to talk about 'justice' a lot?"

Drasta raises an eyebrow "You don't act like it," she replies flatly. "And yes, he did, now that you mention it."

"Hah, I thought so!" Sirana exclaims, clasping her hands together so that she makes a single clap sound. "I know him quite well, you see, so I know just how he fights. He's not really 'invincible', you know. He just wears plates of this really hard stuff called 'armour' that only his people know how to make. If you want to really hurt him then you can't attack him directly, not with that dinky little knife you have, anyway." She glances at the little weapon, wondering just how she managed to put up a fight with that. "No...you gotta learn how to fight dirty, and I know just the way." She smirks, but then adopts a peculiar, slightly disappointed expression. "Unless, you know, you think that I'm not worth listening to...

Drasta's eyebrows go up quizzically. "Ar-mor? Interesting.....I do believe these colonists are beginning to hold some degree of fascination to me. "Go on, dear. I still have awhile before I'll decide whether or not you'll live or die."

Sirana raises her eyebrows. "In that case, I'll start with a simple fact: I can make these special...drinks, yes, special drinks called 'poisons'. They're very nasty things, really; if you breathe too much of the vapours you could, you know, die. That's how powerful they are, and I can make some for you the next time you go up against Mr. Big and Just. I can help you in other ways, too. I'm not a weaponsmith by any means, but if you give me some extra time I might be able to find a way to make you a better weapon, one that'll draw some blood from his face for a change." She looks at Drasta coyly, running her fingers along the tree bark. "Of course, if you kill me none of that will ever happen, and your clan will remember you as the one who got beaten by a weak, decadent Colonist.."

Drasta advances on Sirana, a nasty rictus curving her face into a mockery of a smile. "And why would you do that, little one? From the way you yourself speak, one would mistake /you/ for a colonist." She pounds her fist into her open palm. "Why turn against your own, I wonder?"

Sirana's confidence segues into careful, clever modulation. "I belong to no one," she asserts, "and depend on nothing. I only want to make things more interesting in this Valley, more...amusing. If helping you gain an upper edge on that big lug advances that goal, then so be it. Besides, I'm sure you want to find a way to make your clan stronger, to make yourself stronger. Certainly, I have learned how to utilize my strength, although I am small compared to you."

Drasta snorts derisively. "Of course. Naturally. All right, little one, you're amusing enough. What do you propose? This rat I fought, he called himself 'Santiago'....does that name mean anything to you?"

Sirana smiles, glad to be finally getting somewhere. "Yep, that's his name, all right. Santiago. Do you know the story behind this name? Long ago, human kingdoms fought to regain territory from foreign invaders and prayed to their God that He would send assistance. Along then, comes Santiago Matamoros, a holy man from ages ago who returned from the dead to assist them in battle. But enough of my stories, you want some of my knowledge, don't you? Well, my proposal is quite simple: if you permit me your confidence, I will brew some poisons to aid you, teach you in their use, and maybe even provide some to your clan. My only request is this: there is a sweet, flowery rat in that colony who has eyes just like mine. Leave her be; she is mine to deal with."

"Santiago Matamoros" means "St. James, Moor-killer" :D

Drasta hmms, considering carefully. Though she doesn't seem capable of logical thought, her intelligence is apparent in the way she appraises Sirana. "Sweet and flowery? Yes, yes, you may have her if you wish. I accept your proposal, little one. Don't make me regret it."

Sirana bows reverently. "I won't make you, great huntress. It will take me some time to get prepared, but I do believe that we can set a meeting. Towards the head of the valley there is a great oak surrounded by many bushes of herbs and flowers. If you will come there at midday tomorrow, I will provide you what you seek, and teach you how to use it."

Drasta shrugs, and grins most unpleasantly. "Done. I shall be there. I eagerly await your instruction, little one---to bring such knowledge to the clan would truly give the Thorn Valley colony a good reason to panic!"

Sirana nods. "Indeed it shall, huntress. Now, I must tend to my affairs. Farewell!" She gives a half-mocking salute to Drasta and scampers up the tree, disappearing into the branches above.

Drasta nods, and turns away from the little female. What is going on here, she wondered. Did it matter? With any luck, she'd have Mr. Justice's head on a plate--certainly never a bad thing!

Sirana watches Drasta depart, snickering to herself with excitement. Finally, after all these years, something exciting was going to happen that didn't involve her almost dying! This sudden shift in the balance of power was going to be fun to watch, especially since a weak little irritant like she was going to provide them wasn't going to be too big a deterrent for the colonists. The only problem would be if the Staggs had some actual brains leading them, but what were the chances of that? ...

Indeed, what /are/ the chances? ;)