A Learning Experience (Solo)

[Colt]

A Learning Experience Fall 28, 511 AV Purpose: Training Khasr trudged through the grass, leaning slightly forward under a rather ungainly amount of weight. He was still mulling over his conversation the previous day with a particularly vexing young woman, still not quite sure what to make of it. The idea of venturing off had struck him in the very middle of it, and he was following his own advice. He had never left his pavilion for very long before, at least while they were a single tent, and a new side of living in Endrykas had presented itself. As a major city in all senses of the word aside form the fact that it moved, the noise and sheer population could work to his advantage. He planned to follow it a few days behind, far enough so that the hunting would still be decent while close enough to avoid glassbeaks. He planned to remain alone for five days, seven at the most, which should be well within his survival range, or so he hoped. He had set out before dawn, and the sun was starting to show itself. The horizon was painted with a dazzling display of pinks and reds, while the rest of the sky was distinctly purple. Khasr raised his head and breathed in the world around him. The air was quite cool, distinctly of fall but harboring whispers of things to come. Crickets and cicadas sang still, not quite ready to fade. The stream he was following bubbled happily, and birds flitted between shrubs and chirruped angrily over what morsels they found. He stopped and grew quiet as the grasses parted ten yards ahead of him, hailing a deer and her fawn as they took their morning drink. Khasr had no intention of hunting them, even if he was capable and didn’t have his blasted pack on him. No, dawn was a time for renewal, not death. Hunting should take place either before dawn or after the sun was solidly in the sky. It was for this reason that Khasr watched the mother and child drink their fill and disappear before reshouldering his load and returning to the road.

[Colt]

It was midday, and the sun was warming the grass without scorching it like it would have in the summer. The stream had widened into a creek that a horse would have difficulty jumping over, and Khasr was glad to set down his burden and rest on the banks. He was not in the direct path of Endrykas, which was little more than a flattened waste, instead about a mile to the west. And, honestly, Khasr didn’t want to do any more walking. He looked around as he took a draught from his waterskin, eyeing his location appreciatively. Yes, this would do nicely for a campsite. There was about three hundred square feet of open space next to the creek before the grass started, and multiple trees bent over the water. Khasr smiled to himself and dug through what was more than a backpack but less than a wagon and began to set up camp. He cleared the ground of sticks and stones for his tent, arranged a hearth, dug a privy, and unrolled his bed. He gnawed on a string of jerky as he strapped his javelin quiver to his back, much relieved to have much less weight to carry, and set off to find food. He almost immediately came to a patch of wild onions. Taking note of them carefully and then ignoring them, he strolled easily upstream for a few minutes before setting a trap. He continued for a ways and set his second one before setting his eye for trails. He was not a good tracker by any means, but the skill he did have caught one fairly quickly. It was small, but not rabbit, most likely grouse or partridge, and he followed it with his eye as far as he could before following it with his feet. He went slowly in a crouch, making deliberate and careful movements and doing his best to keep and eye on his path and looking for his destination. After five minutes he saw it: a low shrub. There were faint rustlings from inside, and Khasr slowly undid his cloak before hefting a javelin. He sank into an even lower stance and stalked forward with painful slowness, until— There. The mother bird emerged, and Khasr let fly. She gave an almost indignant squawk and tumbled into the grass, setting her young fleeing. Khasr quickly took hold of his cloak and slammed it down, capturing around five chicks while their siblings disappeared into the grass. His cloak squirmed terribly, and he lost one before scooping them into a makeshift sack, and still the squirming was quite comical. He didn’t need to search long to find the hen, as the javelin stood upright in a rather obvious position, and after slamming his cloak-sack against a nearby rock he added her to it as well. He headed back with a spring in his step, even going so far as whistling. His catch could feet him for the rest of the day and half of the next alone, allowing him to save his rations for when they were really needed. He ignored his snares, knowing that it would be folly to expect them to have caught something so quickly, and returned to his camp.

[Colt]

The sun was going down, and Khasr felt good. Better than he’d felt in a long time. He poked the remains of the fire lazily with the butt of one of his javelins, watching the sparks rise into the air, weaving and bobbing like butterflies. He watched them, unable to think, but not needing to. His belly was full, his fire was warm, and he hadn’t a care in the world. It had been a very, very long time since he had felt this way. So… peaceful. Khasr was tired but satisfied; his waterskin was full, all of the grouse was either eaten or preserved, and he had used grease to throw off predators and ensure his safety. A log split and fell, sending up a breath of spark and exposing the embers in the center. They were white-red, almost crystalline, and pulsed steadily with the wind. They were alive, and at the moment, were the most beautiful things that Khasr had ever seen. Unlike the flames, which snapped and roared quietly, the embers were silent. Hypnotic. Khasr stared into the fire for a long time. It waned slowly, and only when the embers were all that remained did he return to his senses. Sighing, he banked the fire, hid his food, entered his tent, and snuggled into his bedroll.

[Colt]

Fall 29, 511 AV As usual, Khasr awoke before dawn. He waited, enjoying the warmth of his bedroll, before common sense drove him awake. He sighed and yielded, rubbing his eyes as he pulled on his clothes and stepped into the air. It was still dark, the time when predators had bedded down and prey was still asleep. Probably one of the safest hours of the day. He retrieved the previous night’s dinner and gnawed on it, but though the night’s chill had left it dry and tough, it was better than trail rations. He checked his traps and found both sprung but only one filled. It was a large jackrabbit, and after resetting both traps Khasr found his spirits lifting slightly. With nothing pressing to do, he returned to his camp and set about to processing it. Khasr had often watched his family skin and preserve meat and skins, but was for some reason had never done it himself. He knew the basics, but that was all. He did it a ways away from his camp since he knew it would be very gory and animals would be drawn to it, no matter how he tried to hide it. He slit it from its neck, across its stomach to between its hind legs, and its innards spilled out in a great wave. Khasr quickly flipped it onto its back and picked out what he wanted to keep, namely the heart and liver. The rest he buried and covered with a pile of heavy stones from the creek, knowing that it would keep scavengers busy. Once most of the blood seemed gone, he returned to his camp and tugged at the skin. It came off easily, like a piece of clothing, though it took some work to get it off the head. The skin was mostly covered in blood, so it didn’t take much scraping to clean it. He finished after roughly an hour, and tied it to a frame of sticks before allowing himself to rest. He had never tanned before, and he didn’t like it. Not at all. He lay against a tree for a good while, letting his burning arms recuperate, before looking for a place to put the hide. It was fairly small, only about three feet in diameter, and he ended up tying between two javelins embedded in the ground. He’d let it dry overnight and rub the brains into it tomorrow. Khasr entered his tent and tried his best to take a nap, but his stomach protested loudly. Groaning, he finished off the last of the grouse and unbanked the fire, coaxing it into a small flame. He threw green wood onto it and cut the rabbit meat into strips and set them to smoke, allowing a single hindquarter to roast and serve as lunch. He knew he’d have to watch the smoking meat to make sure nothing would steal it, he settled dejectedly onto the ground.

[Colt]

Khasr jerked awake violently in time to frighten the coyote before it stole anything. He didn’t remember falling asleep, but the sun was going down. He examined the rabbit and found, to his dismay, that a mare one third of it remained, and the fire was effectively dead. He stuffed the now-jerky into his travelsack and checked the hide. It was drying nicely, and he took the remainder of his javelins and set out to find a quick dinner. He passed his snares, both of which were empty, and was struck by an idea. He took one and put by the blood-stone-pile, circling one of the nearby animal paths. He would almost certainly catch something overnight as scavengers investigated. He managed to surprise a partridge, but upon returning he spent until dark trying to rekindle the fire. It took a great deal of coaxing, smashing, and swearing, but the kindling finally gave in and caught, though it was another while before it was hot enough to cook over. As such, it was very late before Khasr ate, and he went to bed quite irritated.

[Colt]

Fall 30, 511 AV However, he woke quite refreshed. He had slept late and the sun had been in the sky for a number of hours when he got around to stepping out of his tent. He finished last night's dinner and washed himself in the stream, numb from the cold by the time he was done. He checked the jackrabbit which was almost done drying, and he decided that once he killed something of sufficient size, he would start tanning it. In the meantime however, he did need to get more food, and he honestly didn't feel like hunting. Leaving all but one javelin behind, he returned to the patch of wild onions he had found the day before and pulled up three. He considered taking more but decided not to, continuing into the underbrush. He found a blackberry bush with a fair number of late berries and ate most of them greedily, turning his face and hands purple before taking the remaining handful for later. He checked his traps, both of which were empty, and decided to move them. He would have to go out of his way to check them, but that was a small price for food. He made a wide loop back to his site, collecting sorrel, a handful of clover, a few late apples, and a large chunk of cactus. He cooked the onions but ate the rest raw, the sun starting to descend by the time he finished. He lazed about for an hour or two, then retired to his tent.