Well, it happened some time ago. We were passing through the Yunder mountain, if you can recall. I believe we set camp in a cave when Rik volunteered, in her usual boastful self, to go out a search up something to eat. I of course decided to join her, since the mountains at that time of year were not the best place to wander alone. A blizzard was stewing in the distance and we had about a day before it caught up to us. Although hostile, I remember the nature so vividly – the sun was still low, giving the surrounding area that blueish tint, so familiar to any morning bird; the pine trees were heavy with the eternal snow, always freezing before it could melt away; and of course there were the odd songbirds, unabashed to the harsh climate of the land. The miracle of life was just as beautiful there as it was anywhere else, with the seed of resilience sprouting in any being, ready to spread its roots through the soil of mere existence, up towards the heavens that is self-fulfillment and…

-Boring! – Chety yelled out followed by a belch.

-Fuck off, Chety. – Rik answered, still enchanted by Tarek's story. – You're just jealous because Tarek is better at this.

-Nooo…I'm just bored, since Tarek would rather talk about how great trees are. And you're just a con…kan…kante…kanterin…you just like it because he's not talking about the fun part.

-Well…-Tarek let out a small chuckle – I guess I might have gone a little ahead of myself. I'll just get to the meat of it all.

-No, its all good…-RIk spoke up.

-Please do – Chety waved his hand, allowing Tarek to continue.

Tarek cleared his throat and continued.

In any case, we were walking with Rik through the forest, carving marks on every second tree so as not to get lost, when we stumbled upon a bit of a clearing. Strangely enough, the cold winds which had haunted us throughout our journey, were nowhere to be felt. We stepped forward, snow crunching underneath our boots, feeling the warm light of the midday sun. The air was clean. Cleaner than any air I had ever inhaled. But it was thin. Hard to breath. As we were looking around, trying to decide where to head out next, a figure caught my eye in the close distance. I motioned Chety to follow me…

 -You mean “Rik"? – Bron interrupted, his hands positioned under his chin, also entranced by Tarek's story.

-What? – Tarek furrowed his brow, not quite catching Bron's words

-You said “Chety". Not “Rik".

-Oh. Right. Sorry. I guess I had a bit too much to drink. – with a soft smile he peered into his pint, stirred it a bit and gave it to Chety, who was more than eager to lift this burden off his comrade.

So I motioned Rik to follow me. The figure was hard to make out, mostly due to the sunlight reflecting off the snow. With eyes half closed, I stumbled forward, yelling at the figure to stop. We caught up to it and if it were not for his heavy robes and scarves, I probably wouldn't have seen the old, white fox, his fur pure as the snow we walked upon. He was of age, but he carried himself with a stoic dignity, a sign that he was not any country bumpkin or regular mountainman. His clothing, although a bit worn out at places and generally discolored, was well preserved, suggesting that he was a regular resident of the mountain. His eyes had a strange light to them, as if…

Chety let out a forced cough, breaking Tarek away from his trance. Everyone stood silent, all looking at the kobold, until Tarek figured it out.

Alright, alright. Since I was hungry and tired from our travels, I didn't consider the possibility of who this fox might be. When we were close enough, I had taken out my hammer, trying to intimidate the old man, but he stood there, undeterred. I demanded of him that he gave us any provisions, figuring that he lived somewhere nearby. But he simply and yet so sternly declined. At the time I was having none of it. I threatened him with death, hoping that he would not call out my bluff. As you know, I am not so ready to take a life. All life has a certain inherit value, which is no one's to trade. Some may say that we are thieves and that would simply mean that we are stealing life, but stealing something, has a certain implication that it can be stolen again. And with life, you do not have that. No need to make faces, Chety, I'm getting to it. In any case, he refused again. I asked him if he knew who we were, to which he replied if we knew who he was. At which point he bent his knees slightly and drew his palms close together, yet not touching. I knew I had made a grave mistake. I felt air rush past me, snow scarping my fur. The area around seemed to grow dimmer. And my heart skipped a beat. A jumped down as the fox extended his hands forward and I felt a coursing force fly above me. I turned backwards and I saw Rik running headlong towards the fox. Considering the possibility of a slight snowblindness as well as that Rik was not an agile runner, especially on such a terrain, it was safe to assume that she had no idea what had transpired. She probably just saw me taking out my hammed as I stood and talked with the fox, she being still a few yards away.

-Well…I figured you might be in some sort of trouble, since you had your weapon out. – Rik intervened, trying to paint herself in a bit of more heroic light, knowing full well what was about to come.

Hmm…yes. As you know, Rik prefers to go around bare. No armor, not even a shirt. Something to do with her gnoll heritage I believe? Imagine my surprise as I saw Rik, running towards the fox, axe swinging, when suddenly…she froze. She stopped in one place. And then I saw it. Whatever that fox did, it hit like a canon. Rik's exposed belly, of which we heard many stories tonight, had caved in, her ribs surrounding now a crevice. Her eyes wide like saucers and still holding her weapon, she slowly fell face first in the snow. Now, I do not know much about magic, as magicians are so far and few between. And even so, they aren't very talkative, so I can not say what he had done. Rik had collapsed on the ground, but her back was arched.  It was still there, like a ball. Her limbs spread out and face buried in the snow, I feared for the worst. Then her back slowly lowered itself to its natural positioned and supposedly when her belly reached the ground, she turned to one side, wrapping her hands around her gut and lifting her knees towards it as well, like a new born, trying to protect itself. I turned towards the fox, but he was already gone. No footprints. Nothing. I ran towards Rik, hoping that all was well. She wasn't moving. And suddenly, as I was a few feet away from her, I hear a powerful gasp. She had been left breathless for about a minute. And now she was trying to breathe in as much as she could. But if you recall, I mentioned that the air was thin. She was panting viciously, her mouth open like a cave, trying to gather as much air as she could. But finally, she collapsed. Out cold, she closed her eyes, her tongue hanging out, her warm saliva melting away spots of snow here and there.

There were a few chuckles here and there, but the bombastic laughter accompanying the earlier stories was lacking.

-Tarek, not for nothing, you do tell a better story, but the somberness of your tale sure doesn't fit the aim, does it. – Brom spoke up, scratching his chin.

-Well, I suppose it was a bit more naturalistic than yours and Chety's. Yet, I do believe it adds a certain something, don't you agree?

-I believe – Chety shrieked out, waving his pint around. – That the narrative of a story, should be compatible with the storyteller's certain style. His voice if you will. The narrative should be bent around the storyteller's voice, not the other way around. Otherwise you'll end up with something that sounds shallow and forced. Every story teller can tell any kind of story. But it's when they ignore their voice in an attempt to fit in a certain pre-established mold, to please an audience that is not his or just trying something, without actually grasping the nuances, is when we get hollow art and, in turn, a worse experience.

-Wow…look at the big mouth on Chety here. – Bron laughed. – Never figured you for critic.

-I am a bundle of surprises. Like our friend Rik here. She ain't got a weak spot, maybe she can read and she's a fountain of belly related stories.

Chety raised his drink towards the group and gulped it down, falling on his back. Bron and Tarek shifted their gaze towards Rik, who was drinking from a sack of water.

-Well, Rik…-Bron spoke.

Rik turned her eyes towards him, still drinking her water.

-You can put the skin down, Rik. I'm pretty sure its empty by now.

Unwillingly, she lowered the sack from her mouth and closed it up and put it away. With both hands on the log, she stretched forward and looked up, admiring the night sky.

-So, Rik…-Bron tried again.

-Hmm? – She answered, still skygazing

-Do you wanna talk about how you've got a gut as weak as a twig?