12th of fall, 513 a.v
morning
The morning had reached its height, though full noon was still an hour or so away when they entered the camp. The stallion, so long handicapped by the scarring on his back now walked with heavy footsteps, tail held high and crest arched in pride. He snorted and threw his head from side to side, thundering over the ground to let all know that he was once again strong, and that this camp was his. The man on his back let him prance, a fond smile on his face, before leaning back and bidding the creature to stop. Akaidras whinnied, tucking one foreleg and striking the ground with the other. He snapped his tail, snorted, picked up his feet, did everything he could to remain in motion even as he stood still to allow his rider a safe dismount. Shahar ran his fingers through the Strider’s mane, scratching the great almost-black neck before turning to the yvas. His fingers were sure as they loosened the riding pad, and less than a minute had passed before the yvas was free and the massive stallion was sprinting away, head held high to catch the wind. After so long trapped by his injuries, Akaidras was eager to exert himself. Yes, things were as they should be once again.
He set the yvas by the largest tent of the camp, then quickly turned to shoo away Tuka when she scampered over to investigate. The kitten circled, and when she realized that she would simply not be allowed to chew it then she immediately switched goals and began to claw at the hem of Shahar’s pants, begging to be picked up. Unsure of how else to quiet her, the hunter reluctantly plucked the kit from the ground. She chirped once, but then settled comfortably into the crook of his arm and ceased her noise.
It was with the young hunting cat in hand that Shahar approached the two-person tent that he had once called his own. With five good meals and two full nights of rest, Shahar was certain that the newest member of his hearth was feeling better. At least, he hoped so. He’d left her alone for most of the day before, except at meals when he tried to encourage her to eat more. He also made sure that there was always a full waterskin hung on her tent, and had once wrapped some smoked meat around its neck in case she might still be hungry. She had to be feeling better by now, at least enough for Shahar to begin teaching her.
He let out a loud, wordless whisper to announce his presence to the young woman, gesturing for her to come. Though he’d yet to say her name out loud, Shahar had been making attempts to accompany grassland sign with common words, if he knew them, but still hoped that with time they would no longer be necessary.
“Come,” he said, repeating the sign. Come.
morning
The morning had reached its height, though full noon was still an hour or so away when they entered the camp. The stallion, so long handicapped by the scarring on his back now walked with heavy footsteps, tail held high and crest arched in pride. He snorted and threw his head from side to side, thundering over the ground to let all know that he was once again strong, and that this camp was his. The man on his back let him prance, a fond smile on his face, before leaning back and bidding the creature to stop. Akaidras whinnied, tucking one foreleg and striking the ground with the other. He snapped his tail, snorted, picked up his feet, did everything he could to remain in motion even as he stood still to allow his rider a safe dismount. Shahar ran his fingers through the Strider’s mane, scratching the great almost-black neck before turning to the yvas. His fingers were sure as they loosened the riding pad, and less than a minute had passed before the yvas was free and the massive stallion was sprinting away, head held high to catch the wind. After so long trapped by his injuries, Akaidras was eager to exert himself. Yes, things were as they should be once again.
He set the yvas by the largest tent of the camp, then quickly turned to shoo away Tuka when she scampered over to investigate. The kitten circled, and when she realized that she would simply not be allowed to chew it then she immediately switched goals and began to claw at the hem of Shahar’s pants, begging to be picked up. Unsure of how else to quiet her, the hunter reluctantly plucked the kit from the ground. She chirped once, but then settled comfortably into the crook of his arm and ceased her noise.
It was with the young hunting cat in hand that Shahar approached the two-person tent that he had once called his own. With five good meals and two full nights of rest, Shahar was certain that the newest member of his hearth was feeling better. At least, he hoped so. He’d left her alone for most of the day before, except at meals when he tried to encourage her to eat more. He also made sure that there was always a full waterskin hung on her tent, and had once wrapped some smoked meat around its neck in case she might still be hungry. She had to be feeling better by now, at least enough for Shahar to begin teaching her.
He let out a loud, wordless whisper to announce his presence to the young woman, gesturing for her to come. Though he’d yet to say her name out loud, Shahar had been making attempts to accompany grassland sign with common words, if he knew them, but still hoped that with time they would no longer be necessary.
“Come,” he said, repeating the sign. Come.