Placeholder Through The Mist, Through The Wood

[Colt]

16th of fall, 516 a.v.
very early morning

Every morning was the same. It was easier in the apartments, where he could feel immediately that he was not where he was supposed to be, but out here, in the wilderness… it was harder. He could feel the ground through the bedroll, just like he had all his life, and he would drift immediately to thoughts of traps and sunrise. Khida would be awake, surely; he couldn’t seem to remember where he’d set his traps, but perhaps she would. Tuka would start to fuss if he was late.

Then he would roll over to reach for Naiya. And then he would remember. Every morning he would have to relive the reason they were all gone, and it was like losing them all over again.

Snow was curled up on top of his feet, and she perked up when he moved. As he did every morning, Colt sat up, pulled her close and buried his face in her white fur. The world was an endless storm of misery, and she was the rock that kept him stable.

Larry was a late riser, but Colt didn’t much care. He would rely more on Snow anyway.

Fog was new. He had seen fog before, of course, but fog in the Sea of Grass was a short pre-dawn occurrence; the arid land couldn’t protect it once Syna arose. The mountains of Kalea, though, provided plenty of shelter from the rising sun, and the fog was allowed to thicken freely––nevermind the fact that they were camped at the bottom of a valley, where the fog was funneled on top of itself until Colt could barely see five feet in front of his nose.

Whether or not she was as affected by the veil, Snow stuck close to her partner’s side. Colt ran a hand through the fur of her neck, narrowing his eyes in contemplation. He couldn’t hunt in this, not when he couldn’t see anything. He knew where he was and he knew where the Amaranthine was––at least to the point that he could find his way there if he tried––but if he couldn’t see the animals he was hunting, there was no point. Ears were not enough.

Not unless… Colt frowned, thinking. Could magic work where eyes failed?

He picked up the rough-hewn stick he’d fashioned into a spear some days earlier, gesturing for Snow to stay close and let’s move. Not bothering to wake Larry, the two of them crept their way through the forest towards the river. The sound of the water was a beacon that kept them on point, at least until Snow whuffed, stopped suddenly and lowered her nose to the ground.

Colt stopped with her, taking a breath and reaching inside himself for the magic. His eyes prickled and the magenta rings in his eyes began to glow, lighting up the world in a web of criss-crossed trails left by moving creatures.

On the ground, right where Snow had stopped, was a thick, bright rope of djed. They had found something.

[Colt]

Colt knelt and strained his eyes to look more closely at the thread. He was getting better at reading djed now, and he could pick out details from the weave. The animal happened to be huge, easily the size of Cyphrus elk. Huge and solitary. Was it male, then? Males were more likely to be alone than females.

What also became apparent was the extreme freshness of the trail. Colt couldn’t tell exactly, but it was far less than a bell old. Perhaps even younger than half a bell. Snow’s excitement suggested that she knew so, too; her nose was working better in the mist than his eyes were.

Colt adjusted his grip on the spear and settled into a hunting crouch. Snow wagged her tail ecstatically and pinned herself to his side.

While most trails Colt had followed with Pathfinding magic tended to dip in and out of existence, this one was bright and clear. Perhaps it was the sheer newness, but following it was easier than any Colt had come across before.

Snow pinned her ers back and stopped. Colt reacted in time with her, bringing his spear forward. There was something ahead, something big.

Although he couldn’t see the animal itself, he could see its djed body through the mist. To look upon an animal directly with Pathfinding at full strength, the djed body was shining like a fire in the forest. Steps heavy and measured, head held high with pride and fall bounty showing thick on the limbs, the animal was massive and healthy. It was heading toward the Amaranthine river, no doubt intending to drink and then cross.

Not if Colt had something to say about it.

The Witch glanced rhythmically between the ground and his prey, keeping tabs on one while surveying the other. He avoided fallen twigs and leaves, stepping exclusively on the carpet of needles to keep his movements quiet. Each step was calculated––start on the outside ball of the foot, roll in gently, avoid things that snap––and while it did slow him down, it was necessary.

What worked against Colt also worked against their prey; the animal ahead was just as closed in by the mist as Colt would have been, had he not had magic at his command. It was relying on its ears to remain alert for danger, and so Colt used that to his advantage; when he was finally, finally close enough to see the dark shape looming vaguely in the white fog, he swiped a hard clump of dirt off the forest floor, wound back and hurled it ahead of them all. The animal didn’t see the dirt, but it definitely heard the landing. It paused, refusing to move farther and looking directly ahead for what had made the noise––directly away from the two hunters behind it.

Colt lowered his stance, let his Pathfinding magic fall back to dormancy and closed in.

[Colt]

The headache of pathfinding was pushed to the back of Colt’s mind. He dashed straight for his quarry, simultaneously taking in details and synthesizing them into something he could recognize and use. Antlers. Long legs. Short tail. An elk. A bull.

The massive ungulate heard the approach and tried to turn, but was already too late; Colt was right at its hindquarters, weapon in hand and his dog forging ahead. It would not be an immediate kill, that much was certain, but Colt had enough of an advantage to make sure that his strike could be fatal.

Too far back and on the wrong side to aim at the heart, Colt braced dropped low and struck up, burying three feet of his spear into the elk’s underbelly, in the soft spot behind its rib cage and just in front of its hind leg. He could feel the point slide right through the stomach and intestines, then knock against bone somewhere deeper.

The elk screamed and tried to kick, but its leg was checked by the spear; Colt leaped out of the way all the same, allowing the animal to break free and run with the weapon still lodged in its body. The damage had been dealt. Whether or not the elk knew it, it was already dead; now it was just a matter of keeping pace.

The mist swirled behind the fleeing animal as it tried to stagger to safety. It couldn’t run, not with one leg crippled, but its adrenaline gave it enough speed to outpace a man and dog… at least for now.

Snow barked and plunged after the elk, Colt in hot pursuit. With his partner in the lead, there was no need for pathfinding or for slow, careful tracking; the smell of blood would keep the dog in the right direction, so all he had to do was follow her. Not that it was exactly easy; Snow was a young and strong creature, who settled into a steady lope that Colt had to run to keep up with. He was lucky that she paid such close attention to him; whenever the pace became almost too much for him to bear, she would slow down just a bit for him to get his breath back, then speed up once he picked up the pace again. It was long, hard and exhausting, and he knew that tomorrow would be a sore day, but he could worry about the aftereffects once they were done.

The bull’s passage was marked by a general disturbance in the forest. Birds were just becoming calm by the time the two hunters would pass them, far more distressed by the monstrous bull elk than the two smaller, much quieter creatures chasing it; Colt and Snow were clearly not threats to anything except their quarry. Kalea, Cyphrus; it seemed that everywhere, despite their different environments, birds acted fundamentally the same. So long as one paid attention, birds would betray a great deal of information about the forest around them. Colt made a mental note to set aside time to learn about Kalean birds.

The elk’s trail led to the Amaranthine’s bank, although it hadn’t the bravery to try a crossing. It had stepped into the water and then stumbled upstream, perhaps hoping that the running water would throw off the scent, but Snow had come across that tactic before. She was not fooled.

The river flattened out upstream, where the mountains widened and allowed the water to pool into a great basin until it became a lake. Sand and gravel lined the banks instead of usual sheer cliffs, and the water was calm and lazy.

Calm and lazy enough for the elk to make a crossing.

Snow stopped at the edge of the water, barking in distress as the trail disappeared. Colt skidded to a stop, breathing hard, and looked across the water. He couldn’t see the elk, and the bank was too far away to even guess at where it might have gone.

Colt cleared his dry throat and knelt briefly to splash water on his face. Breathe. In. Out. Calm down. There was the desire to hurry, to get after the elk as quickly as he could, but he reminded himself that it wasn’t necessary. The elk still had his spear in its organs. It would die no matter how fast he moved; they just needed to find it. There was no need at all to hurry. His heart slowed. There was no need to rush.

He breathed. He centered himself. He reached back inside for the magic.

[Colt]

It was a bit more difficult the second time around; the headache Colt had ignored returned in full force, throbbing painfully as his eyes began to glow.

The trail lit up ahead of him, bright and fresh and unaffected by the running water. The elk had entered here, and then cut a perfectly straight line across to the other bank. Colt took note of which trees it had passed next to, then let the magic slip away. There was no point in straining himself farther.

Because it looked like he was going to get wet.

The water was shockingly cold, but easygoing enough that there was no risk of being swept off his feet. Once the initial surprise wore off, all Colt had to do was grit his teeth and re-focus.

Snow barked uncertainly, pacing back and forth on the shore until she decided she was ready to follow. She dove into the water and navigated much more quickly than her partner, catching up in less than a tick and following him across the river.

They emerged cold and dripping, but no worse for wear and still on track. Colt released his hold on the magic and spotted the giant prints in the ground immediately, curling in on himself to conserve heat.

He didn’t need any more magic for this. The elk’s path was clear and heavy, his steps close together to indicate slowness. His adrenaline had worn off. He couldn’t be much further ahead.

They found the elk, dead, in a small clearing after a chime or two of walking. His body was still warm, legs folded under him and great head resting on the ground. Beneath the warm golden shafts of Syna’s rise, he could have been sleeping.

Snow barked excitedly and bounded ahead, shaking off the water of the river and wagging her tail. A sharp whistle whenever she got too close was enough for her to keep her teeth to herself, allowing Colt to examine the body closely. Aside from the spear in its gut, the creature was relatively unblemished save for a few thin scars on the shoulders from past rutting seasons. The bull had been in its late prime, still young enough to fight but old enough to be wise; he was lithe and strong as any third-year bull, but his antlers were broad and aged to seven sharp points on each side. Colt didn’t need Phylonura to know that this bull had a score of offspring running through the mountains.

Rest, brother, Colt signed, turning his attention to practicality.

The Jugged Hare, he knew, was primarily interested in meat that could be cooked and sold. There was plenty in this kill, and Colt wondered if he could claim the heart and liver for himself. The hide, at the very least, was something he was determined to keep; perhaps he could trade the antlers to have the hide tanned. It would yield less in kina overall, but a single elkskin was precious to someone who had nothing.

If he could just figure out how to get it back to Lhavit, would allow himself to be optimistic for the first time in a very long time.

[Colt]

Good fortune came, as it sometimes did, under the guise of annoyance.

“Colt!”

Colt turned, not sure if he was happy or irritated to hear his comrade.

“Colt! Are you out there? You alright?”

It was Snow who answered, barking loudly and trotting back down to the water to investigate. Trusting her to take care of herself, Colt drew his cutlass and chose two saplings to cut down. A few moments later, he picked up the faint sounds of splashing and cursing as Larry made his way into the river.

“Colt!” Larry continued to shout. “Are you up here? Gods, man, what were you doing out here?”

Colt didn’t respond, preferring instead to focus on breaking down the second of the two saplings and then hacking off the branches. The sound of his work alerted Snow, which alerted Larry, and soon enough the both of them were coming to join him.

“Colt, you’re alive!” Larry said, audibly relieved. “By Hai’s stinking underbelly, what were you thinking walking about before the mist cleared? You could have gotten lost! What are you doing over here?”

Barely pausing, Colt gestured to the dead elk. Larry shut up for a few moments to gawk at it, enough time for Colt to finish the first sapling and move onto the other.

“You mean to tell me… that’s all the noise that woke me up? You? And… and that? But how? The mist––if you couldn’t see anything––no one can see anything––and it was so bad this morning! I don’t understand.” Grimacing, Larry threw up his hands in good-natured surrender. “I give up. You… you strange man, with your strange eyes and your strange talk. Of course. Of course you can see through mist. Because why not?”

Colt let out a quiet breath of amusement, but didn’t stop what he was doing.

“Rope?” he asked when he’d finished with both saplings.

“What for?”

Colt pointed at the saplings, then at the fallen elk. “Hold… er, carry? Rope, I use to… make-together baby trees.”

Larry stared for a moment. “Well I don’t know what that means, but here you go.” He tossed over the rope coiled on his belt.

Colt caught it gratefully and set to work. He’d never build a cart before, but he had fashioned an emergency travois more than once in his lifetime. He lay the saplings side by side with a few feet in between, then piled their branches between them and tied it all in place with the rope. When it was all tied off and secure, he set it next to the elk and began to roll the animal onto the carrier.

Larry fell into place beside him with a chuckle. “You sure as shyke aren’t going to get all the glory, you strange man.”

Between the two of them, the elk eventually made it onto the travois. Colt took a moment to breathe, then walked to the head of it all and picked up the ends of the saplings. It was slow, heavy and exhausting, but not impossible––especially once Larry joined in on that as well.

“Thanks to you,” Colt said, breathing hard.

“Yeah,” Larry replied. “Let’s save it until we get this thing across the river, aye?”