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Colton and her had scouted ahead, another one of the corrupted beasts threatening to breach the tree line despite the ebbing effects of all six of them returning to the Grove. Nila and her family did what they could, but it still took many hands to lighten the load of sprinkling parts of the rooted crystals through the entire Savalirwood.

Clarabelle was digging a hole, eyes tracking for movement of a bone white variety. She dropped the particles from her pouch before covering it with a hand to cast a touch of growth. When she stood up, she almost shrieked at the glowing red eyes that met her.

“MMmty,” The figure said, more of a mumbling of words than a proper word. Their lavender claws outstretched towards Clarabelle’s head with a wide stare of singular purpose.

The young firbolg almost shrieked, before covering her mouth as she realized she could draw creatures larger than a singular devil- were devils purple? The curling horns, the scarred skin- wait? Did devils have tattoos?

Her hesitation cost as the tiefling reached out and grabbed a handful of Clarabelle’s multicoloured hair (and surely it wasn’t imposing enough to be a devil). The creature’s features narrowed, peacock feather’s flexing along their jaw as they inspected Clarabelle’s tresses. She froze, unsure how to proceed.

The tiefling stuck their face into the colours and made a cooing noise.

Clarabelle couldn’t help but smile. “Oh, yeah you must like colours huh? We kinda match!”

As the tiefling petted her hair, entranced with the colours, Clarabelle was able to take in the rest of the tiefling’s appearance. They were filthy. Covered in mud and grime, with mulch along the creases of their once-lovely clothing. Slung around their neck clumsily was a giant bundle of maroon embroidery, with a silver and brown length draping down their front. Everything looked weathered. A couple toes peeked out from their boots, split along the seam and barely practical if not for the broken ground underfoot.

A small beetle crawled up and onto the tiefling’s curved black horn a touch away from her face, and Clarabelle’s eyebrows shot up: a Gravedigger’s Companion. They were round little insects who liked to feed on the dead; often making meals after the first signs of decay once the fly larvae had finished their first round of pupation. They were great friends to her in the Grove but she rarely saw them outside of graveyards.

“Clarabelle! I’ve got you!” Colton’s voice sounded from behind her. She and the tiefling turned to see Colton running forward and readying his sword.

She tucked her hand over the horn of the suddenly shaking Tiefling, shielding them and the special beetle. She tucked both behind her quickly as she tried to get between them and Colton.

“Colton, stop. I’m fine!” She tried not to be too loud even as she felt the excitement well up inside her. She’d discovered something special. A tiefling with a Gravedigger’s Companion. This was a sign just for her. She felt it in her heart.

“Step away from that guy. He could be corrupted.” Colton levelled his sword, sure of himself even when he didn’t have all the facts.

Clarabelle stomped her foot. “I’m going to tell mom you left me alone if you don’t put that sword away right now!”

“‘Belle, he could be dangerous.” He wasn’t letting up.

The tiefling whimpered, tugging at her hair. The scarred, snake-decorated hand clutched onto her as they pleaded without words for safety. Clarabelle was a Clay, she was a guardian of the Blooming Grove.

“I am offering this stranger sanctuary in the Grove.” Clarabelle declared, sounding very grown up if she did say so herself.

Colton made a noise of disbelief, “You can’t make a decision like that. You’re not old enough-“

“I’ve seen fifty winters. I can absolutely make that decision. Pilgrimage outside the Grove was far more dangerous than this,” Clarabelle reached down to take the tiefling’s small hand out of her hair and hold it firmly, smiling reassuringly down at them. “This is a sign from the Wildmother. He’s got a Gravedigger’s Companion on him. She sent this tiefling to me.”

Colton gave her a look of disbelief. “You can’t just bring a random tiefling who tries to grab you in the woods back to the Grove. He could be a zombie. A wraith. A devil.”

“Don’t be so judgemental.” Clarabelle stuck out her tongue. She heard a soft giggle from the tiefling at her side. Quick as a whip, the tiefling ducked their head into her side and smiled bashfully. “See? They… he? She? It? Oh dear- either way, I’m the favourite.”

“Okay, but Calliope is running all the detections before we pass the third gate. We can’t threaten Nila’s family. They have a kid.” Colton said warily, finally sheathing his sword. He still looked down at the scarred forearm clutching his sister’s hand under the piles of rusty brown fabric. There was something wrong here

“What’s your name, Lilac?” Clarabelle asked, taking up her staff in her free hand to begin the walk back to the Grove.

Colton followed at a steady pace, clearly not pointing out lilacs were a different shade. But it was less syllables.

“MMmmly.” The mumbling was more frustrated this time. Like the tiefling had an idea of how language worked, but couldn’t quite figure out how it flowed from mind to mouth to air.

Clarabelle squeezed their hand reassuringly. “It’s okay, we’ll figure something out. Can you sign? Maybe it’s common. I speak Slyvan? Giant?”

The frown deepened, the tiefling looking like they were trying to piece together what Clarabelle would understand and what could even be said. Their red eyes flared for a moment, but nothing happened. Their mouth opened and closed but the same “Mmm-“

Her soft grey fur made a nice match for the tiefling’s soft violet skin as she brought their combined hands up to her chest. It was like moonlight and mist at twilight, perfect for catching beetles. She could sense a kinship for colour, for curiosity, and for kindness from the soft way the tiefling looked up at her shushing him with a broad grin.

“Hey, it’s okay Lilac. We’ll figure something else out. You don’t have to tell us everything. Just trust that you and me are going to be great friends.” Clarabelle said, plucking her hat off and placing it over the mess of dirty violet curls. “Can I call you Lilac, until we know your name? Just nod.”

The tiefling nodded. Seeming relieved to have some way to get their thoughts across.

“Good. Now we’re going to go back to our home. My name is Clarabelle. This is my stinky older brother Colton. We’re Clays of the Blooming Grove and we’re going to take care of you. Our ministry is anything in these woods, and guess what? You’re that.” She said cheerfully, seeing that same beetle crawl off the horn onto the brim of the hat as if assuring her this was the right move.

The red eyes softened. They nodded.

“Good!” Clarabelle tugged the tiefling closer, “I can tell we’re going to get along just fine.”

In moving her new friend, Colton’s sharp breath made her look down to trace his sudden look of horror.

In the middle of her new charge’s chest, previously hidden by the streaked, once fine silver brocade, was a deep black and rust flaked wound in the centre of their chest. Between two soft planes, nestled right beside the heart. It was a mark no one could come back from.