Horsing Around (PM to Join)

[Cerys]

10th, Winter, 515 AV
Home

Cerys rose early like usual and had her fill of the breakfast prepared by her grandmother. There were rolls, slices of cooked ham, hard boiled eggs, and it was delicious as usual. She washed it down with a hot cup of coffee and basked in the buzz of energy and heat it sent through her before washing her face and stepping out to be greeted by the cool morning. There was frost on the grass and windowpanes, but the woolen cloak wrapped around her shoulders was more than enough to fend off the bite of winter's approach.

It was a very mild season so far; more so than usual for the region. It still felt like fall, but the signs were there. All but a few fiery leaves clung to the barren branches of trees, and some of the animals were starting to settle in until spring. Things were still very much alive at the Outpost though. Harvests had been plentiful this last season, and for all intensive purposes people were ready to take on the coming cold without fear for their next meal. The livestock had grown fat for slaughtering, and the smell of smoking meat could be enjoyed outside of several cottages throughout the compound.

The family's chickens were holding up nicely and one had even hatched a clutch of eggs. She opened their coop to let them into their run for the day, and after the girls and their chicks scampered down the ramp to start scratching and pecking at the dirt, their old rooster sauntered out to find a nice perch on the fence.

From the storage shed Cerys retrieved their morning feed, and the familiar rattle of grain in the bucket had the birds flocking around her eagerly. They clucked and hopped with excitement, stepping on one another as she scattered handfuls of food around their pen. When they were all busy eating she checked the nesting boxes for eggs. There were six this morning; a mixture of both brown and white, all big with thick shells. She collected each carefully and folded them into her dress to be carted back inside and placed in a basket on the table.

Back outside she went to check on the horses. There was her father's old Gilding, their donkey Rosemary, and her mare all waiting patiently by the paddock's fence. She greeted each of them with an outstretched hand and a loving scratch behind the ear. Ross stuck her dark nose in the redhead's face and huffed a cloud of warm air across her cool cheeks, to which Cerys replied by gently blowing into one of the mare's nostrils.

[Cerys]

They kept tack and horse feed in a separate shed attached to the first. This one was slightly larger to accommodate hay, harnesses, and saddles, but it was hardly an eighth the size of their cottage. Cerys fetched some roughage for the animals from inside. She lifted the heavy bale with her knees and hobbled awkwardly back to the paddock, struggling with the cumbersome load. The horses and donkey snorted excitedly and tossed their heads at the sight of food. She dropped the bale by the fence and cut the chords tying it with her knife. After that it was a simple task to toss bundles into the pen.

While they were busy grazing on the hay Cerys went about prepping her mare for a ride. She wasn't all that dirty, but had rolled at some point and needed to be brushed before she could be saddled. With a stiff brush the redhead worked on the mare's lengthening coat. Her winter hair was beginning to come in and soon it would be impossible to keep the horse completely clean, but for now she could still make Ross halfway presentable. The horse loved to eat and be brushed, so when she could enjoy both she was still and content.

Ross stood with her nose in the hay while Cerys brushed out her neck, withers, back, croup, and around the saddle area. The young woman followed this with picking through the horse's mane and tail, working out knots and picking out debris from the ends up to the roots with an old comb. Lastly yet most important were the feet. Cerys picked up each hoof, to which Ross gave obediently, and scraped the mud and manure out with an iron pick. She took the time to check for cracks and fungus, but each foot seemed strong and healthy. Her shoes were secure and nothing was currently in need of trimming.

After putting her grandfather's grooming supplies away she divvied out small portions of grain into a bucket for each animal. Once they had finished that and ate a little more hay, Cerys haltered her mare and brought her out to be tacked.

[Cerys]

She threw on the blanket and saddle, cinched up the girth, then switched out Ross's halter for her bridle. The mare dipped her head toward the bit, and with a little coaxing from a finger in the corner of her mouth she opened wide. Cerys pulled her ears through and buckled the throat latch, threw the reins up over her head, and stowed the halter in her saddlebags. With her boot in the stirrup and fingers grasping a handful of rein and mane, Cerys swung up into the saddle and wiggled to make sure everything was secure.

Ross perked up quickly, ears twitching back and forth, and with little more than a nudge from her rider and twist of the reins, turned and plodded around to the front of the cottage. The redhead waved to her grandmother peering through the window before guiding her mare down the road. She hailed tidings to those she passed; early risers out to tend the livestock and all manner of other necessary chores. Syna was just peeking above the trees when they rode through the Gatehouse. She smiled at those standing watch and received a nod of acknowledgement, for they were lost in conversation about the Fool's Errand and a maiden one of the Knights fancied.

Cerys and Ross wouldn't be gone long. With the fields barren and hunger surely enticing creatures in the wilds to wander closer to the walls, she dared not wander beyond sight of the settlement. Despite regular patrols by the Green Company, accidents happened. She was considered reckless by some, riding out alone, exposed in the open, but she found the solitude with Ross exhilarating and therapeutic. Life cowering behind a wall was claustrophobic, and for as long as she could remember she loved accompanying her uncle into the forest for his hunts, or her grandfather into the fields to tend livestock.

[Cerys]

The Fields

When they were well enough away from the Gatehouse and in the open, Cerys turned her mare from the road and pointed her north, across the fields and to the Avitar. She tapped her horse's barrel with the hard heels of her boots, and Ross responded by stepping out into a smooth jog. They trotted across the vast openness, greeting the paltry warmth of the sun as she climbed higher in the overcast sky. Long shadows slithered across barren fields and wintery weeds as clouds scudded overhead, like curtains needing drawn back from a window.

The rhythmic pounding of hooves was a comforting sound in the silence of the farmlands, and Cerys found herself lulled by the sway of her mare's gait and the warmth of the cloak embracing her. Starlings were picking the fields of old bits of grain and seed, and they scattered to the air as Ross trotted by.

She squeezed the grullo mare with her legs and they extended into a quicker trot. At this faster clip Cerys had to post with the mare's strides or risk a sore rump this evening. Sitting this gait was more unpleasant than anything else, but it was best way to cover ground. Ross could keep this speed for miles, but it was hardly more than two when they reached the bank of the Avitar. It was the southern finger splitting off of the northern branch of the river; snaking down from Sunset Falls like a multi-headed serpent, gurgling and rushing with cold clearness.

Cerys dismounted and led her horse down the soft embankment to the rushing current. It was a shallow section of the river, hardly knee high, so she felt no trepidation by the water's edge. Ross dipped her long neck toward the river and took a loud drink, smacking her lips and tossing water about. Cerys crouched for a few handfuls herself and savored the crisp coolness. After a quick look about to assure they were alone, she tied up the mare's reigns and let her wander a ways into the water, watching while Ross pawed at the water and stole another long draft.

Bunching her dress up around her knees, Cerys dropped down to the dirt, smoothing out her cloak like a blanket and contenting herself to listen to the river and bask in the sparse rays of sun through the clouds. She hummed various tunes, some mindless and some from songs she knew, eyes closed and head lulling to the side. A cool breeze stirred her fiery hair and nipped at her nose, so she pulled her cloak a little tighter.

"There in the flower garden
I will die," she sang absently.
"Among the rose bushes
They will kill me."

It was a melancholy song, but fitting for the barren winter landscape. She'd heard it a few times at the tavern over the years, and its simple melody stuck with her. She liked to sing it sometimes, thinking maybe Syna would appreciate it on a still and overcast day such as this.

"I was on my way,
Mother, to cut some roses;
There in the flower garden
I found my love,
There in the flower garden
They will kill me."

[Dove Brown]

Dove put her booted feet down carefully, trying to avoid the dead leaves and sticks as she moved along the riverbank, so she was less likely to scare the fish away with noise. Her eyes scanned the river and the bank, looking both for fish and edible plants. Even in winter the river usually had something, even if it was only watercress or wild garlic. The long black braid of her hair swayed across the back of her tunic as she turned her head back and forth.

A small patch of chickweed caught her eye, and she knelt to pick a handful of leaves. It would make a good salad if she could find something to go with it. Her lower eye level brought a half-hidden area of sorrel into view, so she wrapped the chickweed in a scrap of cloth, tucked it into a pocket, and zig-zagged over to the sorrel. She picked a little, pulled out the cloth to wrap the sorrel in with the chickweed, and froze as she heard a voice in the distance. Her head tipped like the bird she was named for as she tried to pin it down and one hand crept to the sling tucked through her belt. Then she shook herself and made herself take her hand off her weapon and wrap the leaves. The voice was singing something about gardens and roses, which meant it probably didn't belong to a bandit.

She stuffed the packet of salad leaves back in her pocket and headed cautiously towards the singing. This bit of riverbank seemed to be more mud and grass than dry leaves, which made her steps quieter even though she wasn't focused on stealth right now. She did ease her sling up enough that she could snatch it free if necessary, and loosened the tie on her pouch of sling bullets. The river grew shallower as she continued, and she saw ahead of her a red haired young woman about her own size and age, and a horse cropping grass nearby. A small twig cracked under Dove's foot. She grimaced at her own carelessness, and cleared her throat. "Hello?"

[Cerys]

Ross was aware of the girl long before Cerys, but paid no heed as she browsed some growth by the side of the river. She was an intuitive animal, and a danger this young woman definitely was not, so when the redhead heard the crunch of a stick underfoot her first reaction was not defensive. She looked up from the water and met the dark haired girl's uncertain eyes. An easy smile spread across her face, and she crawled to her feet, smoothing out her bunched up dress.

"Hello there," she greeted amicably. "Can I help you?"

There was something familiar about the girl. Cerys had the feeling she'd seen her before. She was good with faces, but names were her downfall. The young woman was dressed sensibly, her long hair in a braid, and seemed to be out and about for specific purpose. The uncertainty on her face plain as day, and Cerys didn't blame her for the skepticism, so she tried to project a sense of friendliness. The girl definitely didn't look a threat.

Ross watched the two of them with obvious disinterest. Water dripped from the weeds hanging from her lips and she chewed them with loud, slow grinding, eyes half-closed in contentment.

[Dove Brown]

Dove eyed the other girl's dress. It was plain enough, almost as plain as her own woollen tunic and pants, and not the slightest bit knightly, which was a relief. "I was looking for fishing spots and heard you singing," she said with an almost apologetic shrug. "I got curious. I see a lot of folk sticking close to Mithryn's walls, but not so much this far out, unless there's work assigned." She glanced into the river, trying to see if it was shallow enough to tickle fish. She rather thought it was, but if this other girl had claimed it, she'd keep looking. "Oh," she added as an afterthought, "I'm Dove, one of the outpost farmers."

The horse didn't seemed worried about anything more than where the next mouthful was coming from, which meant that the wolves she'd encountered at the tail end of Fall weren't likely to be anywhere near, and nor were any other predators. Dove felt her shoulders relax, and she hooked her hands into her belt, keeping them clear of her sling. "I guess the horse makes it easier to get here."

A ripple in the water caught her eye and she watched as a silvery trout nudged its way into the shallow area and settled for a moment with its fins fanning water across its gills. If she was alone she'd have gone after it, but she wasn't... So there, probably, went the rest of her dinner. Pulling her gaze back to the other girl, she shrugged again, "Sorry, got distracted. It's a nice spot here, even if it does take time to get to - are you coming up from Mithryn or down from Syliras itself? I've seen people do both..." She bit herself off, aware that she was beginning to babble.

[Cerys]

Cerys's eyes lit up when Dove introduced herself to be from the Outpost. That was where she must have recognized her. It wasn't a large settlement by any means, at least compared to the city, and after twenty years she'd seen most of the people there in passing. "My name is Cerys," she supplied, a hand on her chest. "It's nice to meet you. I think I've seen you out and about before. I live in Mithryn with my grandparents."

She looked at Ross for a fond moment and nodded. "It is a good haul up here, but she cuts the time at least by half. Did you come all the way out here on foot?"

That was a brave thing for a young girl to do. Even with patrols on the road and in the fields it was still a dangerous trek, especially alone. She followed Dove's momentary shift of attention to the river, then remembered she mentioned fishing. If she was out and about for food, she couldn't blame the girl for being a little reckless.

"You said you were fishing?" Cerys didn't see a net or pole in sight, so her curiosity was effectively piqued."If I'm in the way, please, tell me. I don't want to scare away your meal."

[Dove Brown]

Dove nodded when Cerys asked if she'd walked out here - it was only a couple of miles, less than a bell each way. "I'm used to walking all day, and it isn't like this is all the way to Syliras. I have my sling if I run into trouble, I'm not unarmed." She tapped the sling tucked through her belt to indicate where the weapon was. "And nice to meet you too..." The other girl's face lit up when Dove said she lived in Mithyn, and Dove bit her lip. She'd never had much in common with others her age, and it had caused problems before. When Cerys showed interest in her fishing, she grasped the change of subject gratefully.

"Thanks. My kind of fishing's good if you have time and patience, and doesn't need much. I'll show you if you like." She looked at the horse as she began to roll her sleeves up, baring the thin scar on her right foream. "Though I'd, um, appreciate it if the horse didn't tread on me." She kicked up a stone about the size of her hand and set it to one side, then eased herself down until she lay flat on the bank parallell to the shallow part of the river and above where the fish had settled. She slipped one arm slowly into the water, trying to minimise the ripples she caused, and brought her hand gradually forward.

Her fingers waved gently as she slipped them under the fish's tail and up its belly to the gills. She remembered not to move so fast that she scared the fish off, but eventually she was able to hook thumb and finger through the gills and throw the fish up onto the bank. She scrambled up to hit it with the rock, but her boot slipped on the muddy bank and the fish almost flapped back into the water.

[Samuel Longwell]

Grading Complete Please edit your grade request thread so that it's obvious that it's been graded. Feel free to PM me if you have any questions/problems with your grade. Name: Dove XP Award: Stealth 1 Foraging 1 Observation 2 Socialisation 2 Fishing 1 Teaching 1 Lore: Foraging: Appearance of wild sorrel. Foraging: Appearance of wild chickweed. Notes: Enjoy your grades! Name: Cerys Grades withheld as in debt/ inactive. If you come back and sort this out I will grade your posts.