The Tower In The Storm

The white grass is surprisingly springy, several inches high, and the thick, bloody thorns have given way to tall, slender trees that look like birch. The air is sweeter here.

 

"...did you just jinx me?" Red jokes.

 

Katters snorts. “May have done, yeah,” she says. “All the more reason to find some water and change those bandages.”

 

"...point made. Problem being... I'm not sure we have running water that's safe here, in the first place. I mean. I can probably drink it, but. I'm not sure if you can?" She pauses, then starts batting at her pockets, before stopping again. "...actually. Trying to pour any of that weird stuff from the vending machine on... is probably stupid, isn't it?"

 

“Yes,” Katters says, as her shirt gets a turn as a napkin. “Unless whatever came out of the machine has ‘water’ on its label, I trust it much less than I do whatever runs through here. For cleaning wounds, anyway. Drinking?” She shrugs.

Hands as clean as they’re going to get, she drops them to her sides, untucking the kit from under her arm as she does so. “Safest bet overall might be waiting until we get back to, uh. Human lands, I guess. Where-ever Zebra is. Not especially happy about that, but waiting’s gone this long, right. Unless you think it’ll take more’n a day to get to whatever door we need.

“What is it you’re worried the water would do to me?”

 

"...uh, as in we can't be sure the water is water until we drink them."

 

“What else would it be?”

 

"....you don't really know until you find out. I mean. I found a river of apple cider. Once."

 

“Gotta say I can usually tell the difference between water and cider without drinking it,” Katters says.

 

"It looked and smelled the same, I swear on my honor-"

(( perception roll, please ))

 

Katters, there's something rustling in the brush to your left.

 

“Hold up,” Katters says, pausing. Her ears flick forward, toward the sound. “What’s that?”

 

A small, fluffy, rabbitlike creature hops onto the path, little nose twitching.

 

"...lunch?"

 

Katters’ ears flick back and she resumes walking. “Sure,” she says, “if you want tularemia. Go for it.”

 

"Tularemia?" Red asks, baffled.

 

“Rabbit fever.”

 

"...that's a thing?"

The bunny daintily hops alongside you, Katters.

 

“Sure is,” Katters says. She lifts her bag, and continues: “I’ve got some antibiotics, though, so, you know, if you want to: go for it.”

She looks down at the rabbit following her. “Going our way, are you?” she asks it. She jerks her head at Red. “Watch out for that one, if you’re going to stick around. I wouldn’t trust her, if I were you.”

 

The 'rabbit' hops closer, little ears wiggling. It lets out a strange, chirrupy bark of a sound.