31, Winter, 517, a bell after sunrise
Ixtli's claim
The fire had died during the night. Ixtli stood by her poorly dug pit, its sandy edges slowly crumbling towards its centre where the dirt drowned the last embers from the burnt logs. She frowned at her uncared hearth; it would have to be rebuild and replenished today. She sighed, unfolded her arms and stretched out to the sky, easing off the sleepy stiffness in her muscles. The dark-haired woman felt her joints cry and creak under the tension and welcomed the popping sensation in her bones, feeling more flexible and awake afterwards.
The air was crisp and not overwhelmingly hot, at least not yet. The Myrian knew it would remain that way for a few more bells before the winds died down and allowed a humid, heavy heat to settle over Syka. She walked back to her tent to grab her kukri and slid it in her belt, still sheathed. She also took two empty waterskins and her backpack and set out towards the fringe of the jungle in search of firewood and water, clad in a simple white tunic and barefoot.
The morning sun warmed her and the breeze gently caressed her neck. It felt like this day was off to a great start.
Until she realised something odd.
The jungles in and around her claimed land were awfully quiet for that time of the day.
Usually the winds carried to her the singing and chirping of numerous birds, the rustling of monkeys high in the trees or the rummaging of small animals in the underbrush, but today no such sounds reached Ixtli’s ears, or they seemed to come from a much further distance.
The Myrian stopped a couple of feet before the first rows of trees, wary. She unsheathed the kukri and half-crouched, walking slowly and carefully in order to not reveal her presence. Whatever had caused the jungle to go silent, she didn’t want it to spot her before she spotted it.
She crept along some palm trees, keeping her back to the beach and her gaze focused on the forest, on the lookout for any sign of movement coming from the bushes. Moving in just a little deeper when she was certain the path was safe, Ixtli made sure to tread as silently as possible, avoiding to put her bare feet on dry twigs or leaves that would screech under her steps.
She advanced this way for a few more chimes, but discerned no suspicious shape watching her with hungry eyes behind the thickness of the shrubs, only this strange absence of sounds and songs; the air felt empty, lacking the usual signs of the wildlife normally filling it.
Ixtli found herself uncertain of what to do next. Where had all of Caiyha’s creatures gone? As her gaze swept the area once more, a flash of bright colours caught her sight from the corner of her eyes. She walked up to the small shape lying on the floor and squatted down to study it.
A jungle bird laid there, its wings half-spread around its body, displaying all the shades of yellow and green with a red beak. It was completely still, unnaturally laying on its back, and the Myrian quickly noticed that the animal was dead. She examined the body, wondering what could have cause the ending of its life, but it was free of wounds, no bite or claw mark that would make it the kill of a jungle predator.
Looking up from the parrot and all around her, she spotted rather quickly another one of its kind, then two, three, and many more, dotting the jungle ground with vivid splashes of colours easily seen through the underbrush. A wave of wariness and unease washed over her; what could have caused such an outbreak of sudden death, then left its victims in its wake? She sent a short but comforting prayer to Caiyha and set out towards another part of the forest.
Ixtli's claim
The fire had died during the night. Ixtli stood by her poorly dug pit, its sandy edges slowly crumbling towards its centre where the dirt drowned the last embers from the burnt logs. She frowned at her uncared hearth; it would have to be rebuild and replenished today. She sighed, unfolded her arms and stretched out to the sky, easing off the sleepy stiffness in her muscles. The dark-haired woman felt her joints cry and creak under the tension and welcomed the popping sensation in her bones, feeling more flexible and awake afterwards.
The air was crisp and not overwhelmingly hot, at least not yet. The Myrian knew it would remain that way for a few more bells before the winds died down and allowed a humid, heavy heat to settle over Syka. She walked back to her tent to grab her kukri and slid it in her belt, still sheathed. She also took two empty waterskins and her backpack and set out towards the fringe of the jungle in search of firewood and water, clad in a simple white tunic and barefoot.
The morning sun warmed her and the breeze gently caressed her neck. It felt like this day was off to a great start.
Until she realised something odd.
The jungles in and around her claimed land were awfully quiet for that time of the day.
Usually the winds carried to her the singing and chirping of numerous birds, the rustling of monkeys high in the trees or the rummaging of small animals in the underbrush, but today no such sounds reached Ixtli’s ears, or they seemed to come from a much further distance.
The Myrian stopped a couple of feet before the first rows of trees, wary. She unsheathed the kukri and half-crouched, walking slowly and carefully in order to not reveal her presence. Whatever had caused the jungle to go silent, she didn’t want it to spot her before she spotted it.
She crept along some palm trees, keeping her back to the beach and her gaze focused on the forest, on the lookout for any sign of movement coming from the bushes. Moving in just a little deeper when she was certain the path was safe, Ixtli made sure to tread as silently as possible, avoiding to put her bare feet on dry twigs or leaves that would screech under her steps.
She advanced this way for a few more chimes, but discerned no suspicious shape watching her with hungry eyes behind the thickness of the shrubs, only this strange absence of sounds and songs; the air felt empty, lacking the usual signs of the wildlife normally filling it.
Ixtli found herself uncertain of what to do next. Where had all of Caiyha’s creatures gone? As her gaze swept the area once more, a flash of bright colours caught her sight from the corner of her eyes. She walked up to the small shape lying on the floor and squatted down to study it.
A jungle bird laid there, its wings half-spread around its body, displaying all the shades of yellow and green with a red beak. It was completely still, unnaturally laying on its back, and the Myrian quickly noticed that the animal was dead. She examined the body, wondering what could have cause the ending of its life, but it was free of wounds, no bite or claw mark that would make it the kill of a jungle predator.
Looking up from the parrot and all around her, she spotted rather quickly another one of its kind, then two, three, and many more, dotting the jungle ground with vivid splashes of colours easily seen through the underbrush. A wave of wariness and unease washed over her; what could have caused such an outbreak of sudden death, then left its victims in its wake? She sent a short but comforting prayer to Caiyha and set out towards another part of the forest.
Common | Myrian Calls | Thoughts