than that, keeping a bit of their sanity aside from Thibbledorf Pwent's antics and the Gutbuster's training. Pwent did come over and join the pair this night, though, walking right in and plopping down on a boulder to the side of their fire.
He looked at Catti-brie, even reached up to touch her long auburn hair.
"Ah, ye're looking good, girl," he said, and he dropped a sack of some muddy compound at her feet, "Ye be putting that on yer face each night afore ye go to sleep."
Catti-brie looked down at the sack and its slimy contents, then up at Drizzt, who was sitting on a log and resting back against a rock facing, his hands tucked behind his head, brushing wide his thick shock of white hair so that it framed his black-skinned face and his purple eyes. Clearly, the battlerager amused him.
"On me face?" Catti-brie asked, and Pwent's head bobbed eagerly. "Let me guess. It will make me grow a beard."
"Good and thick one," said Pwent. "Red to match yer hair, I'm hoping. Oh, a fiery one ye'll be!"
Catti-brie's eyes narrowed as she looked over at Drizzt once more, to see him choking back a chuckle.
"Make sure ye're not putting it up too high on yer cheeks, girl," the battlerager went on, and now Drizzt did laugh out loud. "Ye'll look like that durned Harpell werewolf critter!"
As he finished the thought, Pwent sighed and rolled his eyes longingly. It was well known that the battlerager had begged Bidderdoo Harpell, the werewolf, to bite him so that he too might be afflicted by the ferocious disease. The Harpell had wisely refused.
Before the wild dwarf could continue, the trio heard a movement to the side, and a huge form appeared. It was Wulfgar the barbarian, nearly seven feet tall, with a broad and muscled chest. He was wearing a beard to match his blond hair, but it was neatly trimmed, showing the renewed signs of care that had given all the friends hope that Wulfgar had at last overcome his inner demons. Ho carried a large sack over one shoulder, and something inside of it was squirming.
"Hey, what'cha got there, boy?" Pwent howled, hopping up and bending in curiously.
"Dinner," Wulfgar replied. The creature in the sack moaned and squirmed more furiously.
Pwent rubbed his hands together eagerly and licked his lips.
"Only enough for us," Wulfgar said to him. "Sorry."
"Bah, ye can spare me a leg!"
"Just enough for us," Wulfgar said again, putting his hand on Pwent's forehead and pushing the dwarf back to arm's length. "And for me to bring some leftovers to my wife and child. You will have to go and dine with your kin, I fear."
"Bah!" the battlerager snorted. "Ye ain't even kilt it right!"
With that, he stepped up and balled his fist, retracting his arm for a devastating punch.
"No!" Drizzt, Wulfgar, and Catti-brie all yelled together.
The woman and the drow leaped up and rushed in to intercept. Wulfgar, spinning aside, put himself between the battlerager and the sack. As he did, though, the sack swung out wide and bounced off the rock facing, drawing another groan from within.
"We're wanting it fresh," Catti-brie explained to the befuddled battlerager.
"Fresh? It's still kicking!"
Catti-brie rubbed her hands together eagerly and licked her lips, mimicking Pwent's initial reaction.
"It is indeed!" she said happily.
Pwent backed off a step and put his hands firmly on his hips, staring hard at the woman, then he exploded into laughter.
"Ye'll make a good dwarf, girl!" he howled.
He slapped his hands against his thighs and bounded away, back down the slope toward the main encampment.
As soon as he was gone, Wulfgar swung the sack over his shoulder and bent low, gently spilling its contents: one very irate, slightly overweight halfling dressed in fine traveling clothes, a red shirt, brown vest, and breeches.
Regis rolled on the ground, quickly regained his footing, and frantically brushed himself off.
"Your pardon," Wulfgar offered as graciously as he could while stifling a laugh.
Regis glared up at him then hopped over and kicked him hard in the shin-which of course hurt Regis's bare toes more than it affected the mighty barbarian.
"Relax, my friend," Drizzt bade him, stepping over and draping his arm over the halfling's shoulder. "We needed to speak with you, that is all."
"And asking is beyond your comprehension?" Regis was quick to point out.
Drizzt shrugged, "It had to be done secretly," he explained. Even as the words left his mouth Regis began to shrink back, apparently catching on.