The badgers having apparently made an expeditious, and unseen, retreat to the surface, and the reptile folk having decided that staying dead is their best option, people start making their way out of the pit.

It's perhaps worth noting that Colwyn only does so after a quick look about, just in case the erstwhile enemies had any loot about the place.

The irritated rogue clambers up to the surface, and throws himself on the ground.

"Nothin'!  Not a bleedin' sausage.  All they was 'avin' were a few feathers, some cheap beads, an' some lightnin' glass.  Wouldn't even pay fer a cheap pie, an' a pint."

Relieved that Velanya does not suffer from envenmomed wounds, Eilieen watches as the woman heals herself.  Helpful, that; taking the weight from her when it comes to healing allows her to keep her prayers for more pressing situations.  Then she climbs up to the top of the pit with the others. "I'm sorry it didn't turn out to be satisfactory with regards to tangible rewards, Colwyn," she replies, genuinely sorry for her friend.  She doesn't bother bringing up the intangibles: the satisfaction of saving a child, for example.  It would come across as too much like a lecture, and poor Colwyn has had enough of a disappointment already.

The badgers have, of course, returned from whence they came, and Eilieen breathes a quiet prayer of thanks to her goddess for their assistance.

Then she moves to the girl they have rescued.  "Rosie."  She drops down into a crouch to look the girl in the eyes, and keeps her voice low and soft.  "I am Eilieen.  Are you hurt anywhere?"

The opportunity to kill the snake-like creatures was reward enough for Aarnr and his god ... and beads and feathers (save for those belonging to pheasants) are a poor substitute for impressively large and sharp teeth as trophies.

Yet ...

"What is froggin' lightnin' glass ?" the priest demands of Colwyn, perhaps thinking it might be something that can attract an electrical bolt from the skies.

Colwyn wisely resists the urge to sneer at Aarnr, and instead settles for a brief explanation.  "There's bein' lightnin' glass all roun' 'ere.  When that there tree got 'it by lightnin', some of the dirt were bein' melted an' burned, an' it was turnin' ter glass.  Like this... "  The rogue pulls a rounded piece of blackened, melted looking glass from where he had tucked it in his belt pouch.

"Ain't bein' worth nothin'" he explains, "'ceptin' fer bein' summat strange."

Rosie looks at Eilieen, "Just some scratches, Miss.  But I had them before the monsters got me.  Scratches from roots, and twigs, and bits of rock while I were digging in the sand.  Nothing from the monsters."

"Thank the goddess," Elieen whispers in relief when Rosie admits to no injuries.  "Well, that's a fine thing.  It must have been terrifying, but you seem to have held yourself together through it!" she continues. Reaching out, she places a hand on the girl's shoulder - no further contact without permission, something  she, herself, made as a rule in Temple.  "I'm very, very glad to hear that you're well, Rosie, and I'm sure your parents will feel the same."

"One of them were going to bite me.  But another made it stop, then they fighted a bit, and the one what wanted to bite me got its neck cut with a stone knife, like this." Rosie draws one thumb across her throat.  "The rest dragged it off somewhere.  It wasn't moving no more."

The priest dutifully inspects Colwyn's prize.  Truth be told, he considers that this lightnin' glass contains the power of the gods, for as everyone knows it is they who send the bolts of light and crashes of thunder as they squabble amongst themselves.

Yet to take a piece himself would be to admit to Bowbe that he was impressed and that would never do.

The child's tale is odd, but begs a simple explanation.

"The dronin' spur-galled pignuts were likely keepin' her for a froggin sacrifice," Aarnr remarks wisely.

Colwyn flinches at that comment, then looks from Aarnr to the child, who is standing well within hearing distance of the priest (as are most people between here and Bard's Gate, in all likelihood).

Rosie moves towards Erista, while still keeping a firm grip on Eilieen's gown.  She looks at Aarnr nervously, then asks the two nice ladies, "What's a froggy sackerfice?"

Elieen puts one arm around the child.  "Nothing you need concern yourself with, Rosie," she briskly states.  "You are safe now," she continues, looking the girl in the eyes with great seriousness.  "There is nothing left here to fear."

Other than, perhaps, Aarnr, but she leaves that part out.

"And best we bring you home, yes?" A brilliant smile suddenly shines on her thin face.  "Your parents must be worried sick."  Slowly she stands, taking one of the girl's hands...IF Rosie allows it.  "Would you like to go find them?"

Nothing wrong with a good sacrifice.  Sometimes the beast gets you, sometimes you get the beast ... and sometimes the god takes the beast and everyone goes hungry.  It's just the way of things.  And at least the god doesn't take as much as the hated tax collectors that plague these civilised lands.

No, these scaly creatures merely wished to appease their god.  Pity they picked a weak one who either too lazy or fearful to fight at their side.  More of a pity to just leave them here, their bodies rotting ... but memories of objections to recent fires are still fresh and his companions would probably complain.  Loudly.  Anything for a quiet life of mayhem.

A froggin' sackface ?  The small child's attempt at an oath is poor, but commendable.  The priest vows to try to remember it that he may use it again.  At least upon those who deserve nothing worse (and that is not meant as a kindness).

Besides, much as Eilieen seems to brighten at the prospect, it might be fun to watch the child's parents vomiting copiously.  That's always a great source of hilarity late at night after a hard days drinking ... and speaks of the likelihood of there being ale in the offing !

The group start heading back towards the village, Rosie in tow.  The child is fairly quiet at first, but eventually turns into a fount of local knowledge, happy to pass it on to anybody who will listen

"That big rock there, that's where Jak falled and breaked his arm in spring."

"Jon and Erich had a fight by that tree last week.  They had to pretend that Erich falled and hit his face, or Erich's pa would stop them being friends."

"My best friend, Margret... her ma got killed by a bear just there.  Was a long time ago.  Margret can't remember what she looked like no more."

Eventually the village comes into view, along with a group of villagers just setting off for a rescue attempt, and laden with assorted tools...

One of them is Rosie's father, who drops the shovel he's carrying. and rushes to scoop up his daughter in his arms...

Eilieen is more than happy to listen to the child's reminiscing regarding her home, and makes appreciative (or sorrowful) noises as required.  Anything to give the girl a sense of normality, to take her mind off what has happened...and what could have happened.  And as they approach the village, the real reward transpires: the meeting of parent and child.  Breathing a sigh of relief, Eilieen watches the two come together.

"Well," she whispers.  "That's one that ended properly."

One of the villagers turns away, and hurries back towards his home.  Which is probably why the whole village turns out to greet the returning adventurers and the rescued child.

There is much cheering, back slapping, and spontaneous tears of joy.

And an offer of a feast in honour of the heroes.

One slightly older woman holds back a little though, and while she still seems to be happy, her happiness appears to be tightly reined in.  Eventually she edges closer and waits for an opportunity which finally presents itself.  Stepping in front of the heroic rescuers she speaks to them quietly.  "I'm Ildra, the nearest this thorp has to a mayor, I suppose.  Can you tell me what happened to the girl?"

Disinterestedly listening to the child's litany of near-maimings, violence and sudden death, Aarnr concludes that at least her education seems to be progressing nicely and there's a good likelihood that Rosie will grow up to become a pheasant-hunter herself.

The priest eyes the parents with a studied yet puzzled intensity that would very easily be mistaken for concern though it merely signifies his mystification that they are not vomiting at all, let as near as much to cause worry as Eilieen suggested they might.  Again, an indication that rural folk can hold their ale.  These folk are indeed worthy kin to the doughty Fergus and quite unlike the fops that dwell in the towns and cities.

The slightly older woman's words are equally perplexing - a thorp assumedly is a troop, however badly she pronounces the word, and given the reputed violent activities undertaken around here, not unlikely, though he's not sure what to make of her question.

"She didn't get froggin' eaten," Aarnr offers helpfully.

Colwyn has more information.  "She were bein' grabbed by some buggers what were livin' in a 'ole under that there lightnin' burned tree.  We was findin' 'er, an killin' the things."

"Things?  What sort of things?  Can you describe them?"

Colwyn considers this question, before answering, "Big as a man they was, an' walked stood up like as a man, but was lookin' a bit like corkindrills.  Or p'r'aps lizards."

The woman scratches her head.  "Strange.  When I was a child a man came through here on the highway.  He had a creature such as you describe, dead and stuffed, and laid out in a wagon with a blanket over it.  Charged a copper to look at it, or two to touch it.  Said it was one of the lizard folk who live in the warm lands to the south."

"But I have never before heard that any of them lived in these parts."

Pleased to have reunited child and family, Eilieen moves back to allow them time together.  Listening to the description of the stuffed creature, she struggles to contain her disgust.  Trophies...  "Well, these ones are all dead now," she briskly states.  "Hopefully their kind will not return to trouble you; or if they do, your militia will deal with them."  Assuming the town HAS a militia, which isn't guaranteed.

Aarnr is equally horrified.  That someone would forego the bragging about their kill until their audience hand over the metal trinkets that city folk put so much store in ... froggin' reprehensible behaviour !  One should aim to shock and awe as many as one can in order to build a proud reputation !

"P'raps they were fobbin' chased out," he offers knowledgeably.  'Extinct in these parts' would not be a phrase unfamilar to him and his tribe, if indeed any of them knew what extinct meant.

"We have no militia.  The closest we have would be the Road Watch, and they guard the Trade Way.  We see a patrol perhaps once each week.  Maybe two weeks, depending how things are elsewhere on the road." Ildra explains, "The rest of the time we have the men of the village, and their farm tools."

Aarnr's theory draws an interested look.  "If they were chased away, then it was long ago, for there is no record of them in the journals, which have been kept me, my father, my grandfather, and his father before him."

Ildra's words puzzle Aarnr.

"Chased out of the gleepin' south," he tries again.  "Chased to here.  Froggin' recently."

The priest feels he can speak knowledgeably on this matter, being very much of the disposition of one who'd be doing the chasing.

"Aaah... I see." Ildra bows her head before Aarnr's superior wisdom.

"Though as I recall, the creature that I saw as a child was large and fierce looking.  It makes me shudder to think that something could have driven such horrible things out of their home and into a place where they would not normally live."

Aarnr nods with a thoughtfulness that some might take for sympathy.  Indeed he'd be keen to meet whatever it was that chased the reptiles ... perhaps something to be added to his list of things to do after killing everything in Rappan Athuk.

"There are worse things," Eilieen quietly states.  'There are always worse things."

Then she shakes herself, putting life back into her eyes.  "Well!  This has ended in a good way -" not so much for the dead creatures, of course "- and we should not linger.  If there be time left in the day to travel, we shall.  If not...good Ildra, is there a place in this community where we might rent rooms for the night?"

If not, there are always barns, but then there's the matter of getting hay out of her clothes and hair afterward.  While the journey has indeed 'toughened-up' Elieen, the idea still makes her shudder.

Ildra squints at the sun.  "It's a while yet until sundown.  But, after what you did here today, I'm sure we could find places for yourselves and your animals if you'd rather stay here until morning.  Nothing in the village as fancy as an inn, mind, so there'll be no renting of rooms.  I can arrange that you'll spend the night as guests of some of the families."

Then, as an afterthought, "The animals'll sleep in the barn, of course."

Being one of the considerably worse things himself, Aarnr is distracted by the mention of the barn.  He for one would far rather make his bed in a hayloft and no doubt the oxen would consider that a luxury.

But rustic structures have a tendency to unexpectedly catch fire, and while accusing glares and harsh words are the typical way the priest greets each new day, he'd far rather not be on the receiving end, as it gets even more unpleasant once blood is let.

"We froggin' really should be gettin' on," Aarnr suggests.

Ildra shrugs her shoulders, "Very well.  I'll arrange some provisions for you to take with you."  With a sort of half bow, she turns to leave.

"You lot, don't be making any trouble!" she growls as she moves away.  But, as it turns out, this latter remark is aimed at a small herd of children who have gathered nearby to stare at the strangers.

As soon as she is judged to be out of hearing, one small boy shuffles forward, wiping his nose on his sleeve, and asks, "Was there lots of blood?"