Compassion:
Shortie by Lone Wolf

~Where is thy compassion?~

	The town square errupted with applause. The performer that was there 
bowed, accepting the praise. The people, who enjoyed the evening show so 
much, started to toss out what pocket change they had and started to 
disperse, talking amongst themselves about the wonderful performance. That 
left the young bard to to pick up what they left. "I really got to stop 
doing this," she told herself. "I make out more like a bandit than a bard." 
She finished picking up the gold and started to count. "Thirty...fourty...
fourty-seven pieces!" She smiled and put it into a pouch. "That should get 
me a good meal and a nice room tonight. Charlotte, my girl, you'll have a 
good night." She gave herself a pat on the back and headed off in the 
direction of the local in.

	It was pretty noisy place as she approached. "It seems like there's a 
riot going on," she said to herself. She crept over to the window and looked 
inside. Her eyes caught a look at a full scale bar fight. Drunken warriors 
were busy throwing wild punches as angry mages and druids argued endlessly 
in corners, bonking each other on the head with a staff whenever the 
opportunity presented itself. The occasional rat would go flying through the 
air, clinging onto his leather armor and knife like it were all he owned. 
	She frowned. "Men. Why must they act so brutally?" She pushed the door 
open and stepped in. She took one look around, grabbed her mandolin, and 
started to play. At first, the music was drowned out by the warcries and 
curses of the many bettlers. But it grew in power and started to drown them 
out. Ears twitched and turned in her direction. Angers were quelled. Urges 
to pound the living daylights out of someone subsided. Arguments ceased. By 
the end of her song, every set of eyes was trained on her. As soon as she 
finished, she looked at them, one of those looks you don't want to see on 
her face.
	"I'm shocked and aphauled at this! Why should I have to go through a 
battlezone to get a good meal and a nice room?" Eyes trailed to the ground. 
"When I walk into an inn, I want to find a cozy little niche in the world, 
not the latest man-hood proving ground. What do you have to say for 
yourselves?"
	The only response was a soft moan. 
	She quirked a curious brow and moved towards it. What she found was a 
young lion down on his back, his head lying the wreckage of an ale bottle. 
Her heart kicked in. "You poor thing." She picked his head up off the ground 
and saw a pool of booze and his blood. "We need to get you to a healer. Can 
you get up?"
	"Yeah." He slowly got to his feet, but was unable to keep his balance. 
He almost fell to his knees, if it weren't for her help.
	"Lean on me. I'll help you there."

	The local healer was a wise old owl. He could treat any wound anywhere 
on the body of anyone. He also knew Charlotte very well, since she was 
always bringing some injured person in. He wasn't surprised when she walked 
in. "Ah, welcome Charlotte," he said. "Running a bit late, I see."
	She grinned. "It's kinda hard to find hurt people when you've been out 
performing all day."
	"Ah, yes. I heard your music from here." He looked at the lion. "What 
have you brought me today?"
	"I found him at the inn. Got the back on his head bashed in by a booze 
bottle."
	"We've been seeing them recently. Let's get him on the examination 
table." She nodded and helped the lion over to the wooden bench the healer 
used to examine wounds. The owl gave him a once over and nodded. "Not bad. 
Whoever did this to you is a good shot. But don't worry. It can be fixed. 
For a donation of fifteen pieces, that is."
	The lion groaned. "I can't afford that."
	"Well then, I-"
	Charlotte stepped up. "I'll pay for the healing." She reached into her 
money pouch and pulled out the money. She put it into the tithe box and 
nodded.
	The healer smiled. "You have a heart of gold. Thank you, sister." She 
smiled and looked at the lion. He caught her gaze and winced, most likely 
from his wound. She sighed and approached him.
	"Here," she said, pulling out some more money. "When he's done with 
you, find yourself a good place to sleep."
	The lion gave a quick count of the money. "Twenty pieces! No..." He 
put it back in her hands. "I can't take it."
	"I insist." She put it back into his hands and shut them. "You need 
the sleep more than I do."
	"But what about you? Where will you sleep?"
	She smiled. "The innkeeper always has a spot saved for me in the 
common room if I need it. You really shouldn't worry."
	He smiled. "Th-thank you Charlotte." 
	She smiled and caressed his cheek. "You're welcome." She smiled to the 
healer and left for the inn.

	Even though it was the common room, the bed was very comfortable. 
Those words were on her lips as she curled up under the sheets. As her eyes 
shut, she started to wonder about the lion she brought to the healer. She 
hoped he was resting comfortably in a nice room and prayed he would be all 
right. She stretched, pulled her tunic around herself, and slowly drifted 
off into dreamland.

	A shadowy figure snuck into the common room later that night. He crept 
silently over to Charlotte's bedside and looked at her. He pulled a note 
from his pocket and looked it over. He smiled, happy with the scrap of 
paper, and placed it by her pillow. He smiled and crept back at the door. He 
looked once more at her and, with that, left, his long lion's tail dragging 
behind him.

End

Charlotte is © <([ Lone Wolf Studios ])>