Lycanthropy of a Kender, 1

The cave that Flint, Tanis and Tasslehoff stayed in was neither deep, nor wide.  Tanis slept precariously between the dwarf and the kender, careful not to toss and turn.  If he rolled too far to the left, he would bump Tas, who was cooing softly in his sleep, somehow managing to stay in one position, though his hands, feet and nose twitched as though he was exploring some fascinating new place.

If Tanis rolled too far to the right, he’d bump Flint, who snored contentedly, lying on his back, his hands laced over his chest.  His beard fluttered with each drawling breath, and occasionally, he would mumble softly about ‘proper dwarf spirits.’

And so, Tanis found sleep between the two Halflings nearly impossible.  He carefully turned left, away from the dwarf’s rumbling snores, and eyed the kender curiously.  He had washed his hair earlier in the evening, and left it out of his beloved topknot to dry.  Tomorrow, the ends would be curled and, when wound back into the topknot, would bounce as he walked.

Tanis sat up carefully and turned the other way, glancing at Flint.  There was something in the old dwarf’s white beard, and Tanis picked out a chunk of potato, crinkling his nose, amused.  The old man got so toasted he missed his mouth, the half-elf thought to himself.  The dwarf snorted and clucked in his sleep as if in response to Tanis’ thoughts.  For the moment, Flint wasn’t snoring.  Tanis took the opportunity to fall into an immensely deep sleep.

-

Flint had to clunk Tanis on the head to wake him.  There was a panic outside, and Tanis had apparently missed the festivities.  

“What is it?” He asked, rubbing his head where the dwarf had hit him.

“Something got the kender,” Flint muttered.  “Something bit…” Flint’s voice failed for a minute and he tugged his beard as if to fix his mouth.  “Something bit Tasslehoff.”

That was enough to wake Tanis.  He struggled to get his breeches on and stumbled out of the cave, his eyes going to the ground.  He covered his mouth, following a thin trail of blood from Tas’ sleeping place, across the camp, and into the woods.  

A small crowd had formed near the central fire pit, where the kender sat on an overturned barrel, Raistlin examining him.  The kender kicked his feet energetically as Raistlin lifted his eyelids one at a time, made him stick out his tongue, and made him stand on the leg he’d been bitten on.

“It doesn’t hurt at all anymore, really.  It only hurt when it bit me,” Tanis heard Tas’ high, girlish voice ringing high above all the whispers.  Raistlin looked gloomily at the kender’s wound.

“It is healing unnaturally fast,” he said as Tanis and Flint approached.  

“Hullo, Tanis, Flint!” The kender chirped.  “Something bit me, did you hear?  I thought I was a goner.  It bit my leg and pulled me clear over to the woods there.  There was a lot of blood, but look, it’s already scarred over, and I feel just fine.”

“Must not have been very deep then,” Flint said, though he sounded unsure of himself.  He watched as Raistlin used his thumbs to gently push up the kender’s upper-lip and examined his teeth.  The mage exhaled, an unusually anxious sigh, and released the kender, standing up.

“I must go to my books,” Raistlin muttered to Tanis.  “Do not let him out of your sight.”

“When do I ever?” Tanis said good-naturedly.

“No!” Raistlin spun on his heel and grabbed Tanis’ shoulders.  “Too often does he slip from your grasp.  Until I return, you must keep your eyes on him at all times.”

-

Throughout the day, Raistlin’s nose was buried deep in various books.  He would catch Tanis’ eye and shake his head, and Tanis would reach out and grab Tas’ shoulder.  

“That mage is hiding something,” Flint muttered, watching Tika fuss over Tasslehoff.  

That evening, Tanis sat with Tas, helping the kender go through his pouches, recovering everything that the little creature had “borrowed” throughout the day.  A dog barked somewhere outside, and seemed to distract the kender.

“Tas,” Tanis said, and the kender looked at him.  “Do you know what it was that bit you?”

“I think it was…it was like a wolf or something.  A real big one.”  The kender looked away again, his ears twitching at the sound of the yapping dog.  “They really should get their dog to stop barking,” he said, but Tanis ignored this.

“Do you remember how big?”

“No,” the kender said, not looking at him.  “I was in a panic, you know.  It woke me up by biting me and dragging me out of my blankets.  Honestly, that dog is barking much too loudly…”

“Forget the dog,” Tanis said.  “Do you know what color it was?”

“Yes.  I think it was dark brown, or maybe black.  It was really dark though, so I might be wrong.  That’s it,” he said standing.  

Tasslehoff marched out to the tent of the offending dog’s family and stuck his head in.  Tanis watched curiously as the kender came back, smiling.  The family had taken the dog inside, and it was no longer barking.  “They said they’ll keep him in at night.”

“That’s good,” Tanis said.

“I think so too,” Tas said thoughtfully.  “Something bad might happen to a little dog that barks like that.”

Something about the way Tasslehoff spoke those words chilled Tanis, and he suddenly felt quite frightened for the kender.  He drew Tas’ small body into his arms and hugged him.  “Go to sleep, Tas.  Big day tomorrow.”

Tasslehoff returned the hug with an affectionate nuzzle and then curled up in his blankets.  “G’night, Tanis!”

~

In another cave, Caramon was desperately trying to get his brother to sleep.  

“Raist,” he started.

“Not now,” the mage muttered, straining his eyes to read in the candlelight.  “I know what attacked the kender.”

“What, you do?” Caramon asked, crouching next to him.  

“Caramon…do you know what a lycanthrope is?”