50th of winter, 515 a.v
late morning
Rats. They were small, quick and far too nimble for their own good; tracking them was proving a challenge. The rainforest was unlike anywhere he had ever encountered, thick and tall and claustrophobic. He had to remind himself over and over that this world was three-dimensional, not at all like Cyphrus; here, almost every animal knew how to climb, and he had to repeatedly remember that this world was three-dimensional, and that tracks and trails could suddenly leave the ground entirely and scuttle up the trees.
And with rats already a challenge to follow, trying to find them in a rainforest was like trying to find a set of needles in the entire Sea of Grass. If he hadn't been using the strange "pathfinding" magic to follow them, he would have called it impossible.
His recovery from the journey overseas was incomplete, but was well on its way to full health. The scurvy was receding under an overabundance of oranges, which Itxec demanded he eat every morning after waking up and every evening before going to bed. The Myrian medicine man was much less gentle than any healer Shahar had come across, but that seemed to be more of a trait that belonged to Myrians in general than to Itxec in particular.
They were an interesting people, the Myrians. They were more aggressive than the Drykas, to be sure, although theirs was a different sort of aggression. The way they conducted themselves was almost… animal-like. They jostled for dominance, whether in the form of respect, skill or status. Although Shahar’s Phylonura afforded him some measure of tolerance, it did not afford him respect. The Myrians did not see him as equal unless he made them.
Although his power did not give him insight to the inner workings of the rainforest, Certilop was able to translate her own needs into thoughts he would understand. Just because he couldn’t dense dissonance here didn’t mean that it didn’t exist, and he was younger, stronger and more able to handle the work than she. The most dangerous of tasks were given to her own warriors, of course, but then there were tasks that were too mundane, too trivial to be assigned to the proud warriors of the village.
And so is was Shahar who had been asked to find the rats and eradicate them.
The creatures had come to the forest within the hull of Glorg’s Howl, the slave-ship that had dumped Shahar upon the same shores just as unceremoniously. The rats hadn’t gone too far inland, at least not in great numbers; the vast body of the pests were still with the ship, where they already knew all the little crannies and hiding places.
There were some, however, that had made the brave foray into the jungle in search of better pastures. Their djed trails, although small, were simple enough to see against the dark colors of the earthy floor. He couldn’t tell how many there were, although he would merit a guess at five or less; one advantage to hunting rats was that they preferred to move in groups. If he found one, he could trace that one back to the others.
He was very slowly beginning to understand the difference between djed trails. At the very least, he was getting the ability to tell which one was older and which was younger, which allowed him to pick out one trail in particular and follow it. Snow was wandering at the flank, nose low and ears perked for danger. Since being reunited, both of them had been on almost constant alert, on an unending search for potential danger to prevent what had happened on the Howl. While Shahar’s attention was pointed at the ground and at the passage of their quarry, hers was pointed at almost everywhere else: the trees, the air, the bushes around them, all had the potential for hidden threats. He relied on her to sense what was around them, so that she could rely on him to find out where they needed to go.
They needed to go east. He was taking a chance that the brightest trail was the youngest, and he was following it towards a particularly large tree. It had begun with two trails, but then one branched off into the deeper growth and left him with the remaining one, which was threading over the tree roots and digging at the bark.
Wait. It was accompanied by the sign for stay, both of which Snow understood with full clarity, even if she didn’t at all like it. She pinned her ears in distress as Shahar pulled ahead, her desire to stay close almost overwhelming her. But they were almost upon the first rat, and he couldn’t afford her scaring it off.
Because underneath all the noise of the rainforest, he could hear squeaking.
late morning
Rats. They were small, quick and far too nimble for their own good; tracking them was proving a challenge. The rainforest was unlike anywhere he had ever encountered, thick and tall and claustrophobic. He had to remind himself over and over that this world was three-dimensional, not at all like Cyphrus; here, almost every animal knew how to climb, and he had to repeatedly remember that this world was three-dimensional, and that tracks and trails could suddenly leave the ground entirely and scuttle up the trees.
And with rats already a challenge to follow, trying to find them in a rainforest was like trying to find a set of needles in the entire Sea of Grass. If he hadn't been using the strange "pathfinding" magic to follow them, he would have called it impossible.
His recovery from the journey overseas was incomplete, but was well on its way to full health. The scurvy was receding under an overabundance of oranges, which Itxec demanded he eat every morning after waking up and every evening before going to bed. The Myrian medicine man was much less gentle than any healer Shahar had come across, but that seemed to be more of a trait that belonged to Myrians in general than to Itxec in particular.
They were an interesting people, the Myrians. They were more aggressive than the Drykas, to be sure, although theirs was a different sort of aggression. The way they conducted themselves was almost… animal-like. They jostled for dominance, whether in the form of respect, skill or status. Although Shahar’s Phylonura afforded him some measure of tolerance, it did not afford him respect. The Myrians did not see him as equal unless he made them.
Although his power did not give him insight to the inner workings of the rainforest, Certilop was able to translate her own needs into thoughts he would understand. Just because he couldn’t dense dissonance here didn’t mean that it didn’t exist, and he was younger, stronger and more able to handle the work than she. The most dangerous of tasks were given to her own warriors, of course, but then there were tasks that were too mundane, too trivial to be assigned to the proud warriors of the village.
And so is was Shahar who had been asked to find the rats and eradicate them.
The creatures had come to the forest within the hull of Glorg’s Howl, the slave-ship that had dumped Shahar upon the same shores just as unceremoniously. The rats hadn’t gone too far inland, at least not in great numbers; the vast body of the pests were still with the ship, where they already knew all the little crannies and hiding places.
There were some, however, that had made the brave foray into the jungle in search of better pastures. Their djed trails, although small, were simple enough to see against the dark colors of the earthy floor. He couldn’t tell how many there were, although he would merit a guess at five or less; one advantage to hunting rats was that they preferred to move in groups. If he found one, he could trace that one back to the others.
He was very slowly beginning to understand the difference between djed trails. At the very least, he was getting the ability to tell which one was older and which was younger, which allowed him to pick out one trail in particular and follow it. Snow was wandering at the flank, nose low and ears perked for danger. Since being reunited, both of them had been on almost constant alert, on an unending search for potential danger to prevent what had happened on the Howl. While Shahar’s attention was pointed at the ground and at the passage of their quarry, hers was pointed at almost everywhere else: the trees, the air, the bushes around them, all had the potential for hidden threats. He relied on her to sense what was around them, so that she could rely on him to find out where they needed to go.
They needed to go east. He was taking a chance that the brightest trail was the youngest, and he was following it towards a particularly large tree. It had begun with two trails, but then one branched off into the deeper growth and left him with the remaining one, which was threading over the tree roots and digging at the bark.
Wait. It was accompanied by the sign for stay, both of which Snow understood with full clarity, even if she didn’t at all like it. She pinned her ears in distress as Shahar pulled ahead, her desire to stay close almost overwhelming her. But they were almost upon the first rat, and he couldn’t afford her scaring it off.
Because underneath all the noise of the rainforest, he could hear squeaking.