I remember a time from about eight years ago. Before the war. Back when, for the most part, goodly folk need only fear the usual monsters of the lands of Faerun. I was traveling back home alone along the trade way from Baldur's Gate. I heard a familiar cackling coming from a thicket nearby, and before long a dozen more voices joined in. Gnolls were gathering, and I knew I couldn't take them all. Problem was the nearest shelter or even what could be considered cover was the thicket itself. Nothing but open plains all around me. When the gnolls came bursting from their den, I was the first thing they saw, and they were more than eager to draw their weapons and start the howls of the hunt. I remember thinking that was it for me. My mind went to my wife and daughter as I said my last prayer to Torm and drew my weapon. I set my feet, and readied myself.   That's when the first arrow flew. Then another. Followed by spears and axes. I heard thunder from behind me, turning just in time to see a whole tribe of centaurs charge past me with lances leveled. I got a few odd looks as they bolted past me, but it was clear pretty quick that I wasn't their target.   They made quick work of the gnolls, and as they were gathering up their weapons and arrows, I was still just standing there, sword and shield in hand. Lowered, but ready. Eventually, one of them came trotting up to me. She struck a rather memorable image with her golden hair and blue tattoos streaked over her form. She kept her weapon lowered too, but still in hand. As she looked me up and down, eventually she laughed and shook her head. Then she said something I didn't understand. Still don't, actually. It was a language I'm not familiar with. Whatever she said, the other centaurs laughed with her, but before long, she planted her lance in the earth and held her hands out to me.   "Peace," she offered in common, though it seemed uncertain. It wasn't a known language to her.   I breathed my sigh of great relief, sheathed my weapons and did the same. "Peace."   She said something else to the others again that drew another round of laughter, but that laughter died off when they discovered one of their own had been injured. Nasty cut seeping black fluid from the wound. Poison. He was big, even for a centaur, but that cut had laid him low, and the female before me went running to his side pretty quick. They were speaking quickly between one another as I noticed him growing more and more weary. I approached, which put a few of them on edge and got some swords leveled my way. I held up my hands again, looking to the female with golden hair. That's when I took out my amulet and made the symbol of the Triad. She sucked in her breath, began nodding eagerly, and shoved the others away. I went to the injured one and prayed to Torm who graciously answered my prayers and healed the wounded centaur. When he stood, he shook whatever affliction was left from his form before giving me a nod of approval. The others started doing the same, Golden Hair never taking her eyes off me. Before long, there wasn't much else left to say, and I didn't want to linger despite the good favor I'd garnered in their eyes. Besides, I was eager to be home, and I had a long way to go. I offered them the Triad and Torm's blessings, then turned to leave.   I didn't make it far before I felt her hand on my shoulder. When I turned to face her, she motioned to the one I'd just healed, then placed her hand over her heart. I understood then I'd saved someone she cared for deeply, but when she started taking off her sword belt, I stopped her and pointed to the gnolls, waving my hand flat.   "We're even," I said, even though I knew she couldn't understand.   Part of me wanted to lift my visor in that moment. Wasn't like she was going to tell any fiends about this random wanderer she and her people had happened upon, but old habits die hard, and I hadn't lived that long by taking chances or being overly sentimental. But I did offer her a hand over my own heart and a sincere bow. They'd saved me. Least I could do was save one of theirs.   "wašté," she told me with another smile, waving her hand flat.   That I understood. "wašté." We were good.   I still don't know what she meant next, but I know it was significant. "Niyue wé, hanyetu wičháša."   I bowed again. So did she. Then she was off and so was I. For some reason, she and that moment really stuck with me. Something about how things unfolded and how we didn't need to know much about each other to offer respect and compassion is a lesson I've carried with me ever since. I don't let people close. Or at least, I haven't in long time. But I can at least give them a fair shake. Those centaurs, Golden Hair most of all taught me that.