518 Spring 45th
North Ravok Outpost
When Rook woke, he first became aware of darkness covering his vision like a shroud. The second was a piercing hunger and thirst. Rook blinked his eyes and crawled forward, scraping his belly against the ground even as a resistance pulled at his back. His eyes, sensitivity heightened from the darkness, picked out the shadows of objects in the small room.
A small table with an unlit candlestick. Behind him, a bed. Someone had left him a scrap of hard bread and a bowl of water in one corner of the room. Rook crept from underneath the bed and leapt at the scrap of food, devouring it in a flash Finding his wolf form lacking his current needs, he shifted to his human form and poured the water down his throat.
His bare hands and feet ached against the cold stone floor. Rook gently traced the loud red lacerations of his palms and soles with the tip of his tongue, wincing at the taste of dirt and dried blood. His eyes fluttered closed. Memories of a six day run at the tail of ten horses rose from the depths of his mind. Struggling to keep pace. The screams of the Ebonstryfe. Rocks slicing into his footpads.
The shouts of hunger and thirst had quieted to a whisper, but Rook could still feel a weakness in his body that could only be cured with more food. Rook graped one corner of the bed and pushed himself to his feet, then cast around for the door. His legs bumped against a chair draped in clothes, and remembering his decency he cast on the dark, rough garments. Rook cracked the door, and once he was satisfied with the lack of movement in the corridor he stepped outside.
Rook’s nose led him to the barracks kitchen and then to breakfast. The cook grumbled about kelvic slaves eating twice as much and doing half the work, but gave Rook more bread and a watery soup that might have had some sort of meat in it at one time. He was still far from full, but for now it would have to be enough. After finishing, Rook slipped out the side door and blinked into the light of the outdoors and the dry, hot air.
The North Ravok Outpost bustled like a nest of wasps. Like the flying insects they resembled, Rook was uncertain if the inhabitants would go about at their tasks ignoring him, or if they would decide to swarm and sting. Rook’s master would have work to give to him, but members of the woman’s Unit frequently ordered him around as well, and he was expected to obey. If he had to choose, he preferred work from his master. She was not kind, but she didn’t intend to break him for fun either. After all, that would be her money lost.
For now he was ignored, which served Rook just fine. The kelvic skirted around a group of tents flanked by a group of loud, arguing men watched closely by a pair of amused stryfers, then greeted a trio of dogs standing guard near the South Gate. It might be another hour before the maned wolf’s master missed him, and the easiest way to get away with a bit of free time would be to do something she liked in his absence.
North Ravok Outpost
When Rook woke, he first became aware of darkness covering his vision like a shroud. The second was a piercing hunger and thirst. Rook blinked his eyes and crawled forward, scraping his belly against the ground even as a resistance pulled at his back. His eyes, sensitivity heightened from the darkness, picked out the shadows of objects in the small room.
A small table with an unlit candlestick. Behind him, a bed. Someone had left him a scrap of hard bread and a bowl of water in one corner of the room. Rook crept from underneath the bed and leapt at the scrap of food, devouring it in a flash Finding his wolf form lacking his current needs, he shifted to his human form and poured the water down his throat.
His bare hands and feet ached against the cold stone floor. Rook gently traced the loud red lacerations of his palms and soles with the tip of his tongue, wincing at the taste of dirt and dried blood. His eyes fluttered closed. Memories of a six day run at the tail of ten horses rose from the depths of his mind. Struggling to keep pace. The screams of the Ebonstryfe. Rocks slicing into his footpads.
The shouts of hunger and thirst had quieted to a whisper, but Rook could still feel a weakness in his body that could only be cured with more food. Rook graped one corner of the bed and pushed himself to his feet, then cast around for the door. His legs bumped against a chair draped in clothes, and remembering his decency he cast on the dark, rough garments. Rook cracked the door, and once he was satisfied with the lack of movement in the corridor he stepped outside.
Rook’s nose led him to the barracks kitchen and then to breakfast. The cook grumbled about kelvic slaves eating twice as much and doing half the work, but gave Rook more bread and a watery soup that might have had some sort of meat in it at one time. He was still far from full, but for now it would have to be enough. After finishing, Rook slipped out the side door and blinked into the light of the outdoors and the dry, hot air.
The North Ravok Outpost bustled like a nest of wasps. Like the flying insects they resembled, Rook was uncertain if the inhabitants would go about at their tasks ignoring him, or if they would decide to swarm and sting. Rook’s master would have work to give to him, but members of the woman’s Unit frequently ordered him around as well, and he was expected to obey. If he had to choose, he preferred work from his master. She was not kind, but she didn’t intend to break him for fun either. After all, that would be her money lost.
For now he was ignored, which served Rook just fine. The kelvic skirted around a group of tents flanked by a group of loud, arguing men watched closely by a pair of amused stryfers, then greeted a trio of dogs standing guard near the South Gate. It might be another hour before the maned wolf’s master missed him, and the easiest way to get away with a bit of free time would be to do something she liked in his absence.
Rook