[Flashback] Making of The Plains Hunters (Ronan)

[Solicah]

Solicah smiled at the compliment, and his tousles of golden curl swayed back and forth.

"That sounds like a lot of responsibility." He let out with his usual cheery voice, still dragging Ronan toward the darkness of his fear. Secretly Solicah cherished the words though, in truth he despised the man his Pavilion called Ankal, and won the same treatment back. Had he the skill he would replace him, without question. A bitter man who hung his cynical nature and authoritarian attitude over everyone within the Pavilion. Solicah could not always see that his brash nature was not only fair but in most cases blatantly necessary.

Ronan did not see this Ankal that day. He did meet Aureunna, a lovely rich golden palomino strider, though, who looked upon Solicah with the eyes a mother would son, protective loving and wise. Solicah seemed flawlessly joyful around her, and for a being that showed no interest of tolerating Ronan's existence she showed great patience with Solicah's rough manner with her. Solicah knew enough not to harm her, but he was not trained enough to be gentle. In time he would learn, and Aureunna would no doubt teach him.

Ronan also met with his mother, a striking women who complimented him on his handsome appearance, and did not press support as Solicah did. She knew full well his story, all of the Pavilion did, as is their business. Ronan knew as he met with the new mother and the mother again, that they all knew he had lost his parents young, that he was an orphan of the grasses, that his Pavilion had not the wisdom demanded of them to raise him with clarity.

But, no words of Ronan's pavilion were spoken, as the visiting slowed however Solicah's father came and offered Ronan a chance to ride to his parent's burial site when the time came, just the two of them, to reconnect to their place on the web, to tend to their markers and seek a more mature closure than he could have as a child. He was not a gentle man, but he did no press an opinion upon Ronan. It was his choice, and his alone.

Solicah waited impatiently by for his lessons, a borrowed hunting knife in hand.

[Ronan]

It was a whistle stop tour of sorts. He met the boy's strider, and what a beauty she was. All the colour of the sun, complimenting both Solicah's temperament and hair alike. He could see why she had chosen him.

Solicah's mother complimented Ronan on his looks, and the Drykas turned away awkwardly, not quite sure where to look. Prying eyes peered at him from all corners, and through conversation it became apparent they all knew of the Windsong Pavilion's fate. Who didn't in Endrykas? News spread through the camp like wildfire, and at the time, it had been the incident on everyone's lips. The future of the pavilion that never happened.

It was Solicah's father that was the kindest. He spoke to Ronan alone for a moment, though Solicah could hear the conversation. When the time was right, he offered to take Ronan to the grounds of his parent's death rites. Where their bodies had first been shrouded and tethered to the Web, and then ultimately exposed to the elements as all Drykas were. It would be a sacred location for Ronan.

Ronan nodded. Soon, there would be a time he would want to do just that.

"Thank you," he said simply, in husky Pavi, before taking the man's hand, clasping it with both of his, and firmly shaking it, "you are a good man, as is your son."

Eventually the introductions and conversations came to a natural end, and Ronan saw the anticipation in Solicah's eyes. He was brimming at the seams, ready to go and do some hunting with him. He patted the man on the shoulder, noting he had acquired a hunting dagger from one of his family members.

"Come then, let's go a little way out into the grasses. But not too far. We shouldn't endanger our lives needlessly. We're going to hunt some small game first."

Ronan led the way through central Endrykas and towards the swaying grasses. He felt a little refreshed actually. The melancholy had subsided, at least for a little while. Solicah's father had given him a little hope for tomorrow.

[Solicah]

Solicah strode along side Ronan after bidding his strider a temporary goodbye. He had taken his shotty arrows, tied about his waist, and slung his bow over his chest. He wasn't proficient quite to say with the instrument, but it seemed more likely to bring down game with an arrow than a dagger. What could be more potent than a flying blade?

"So what are we hunting then? Hares? I love hare stew. Oh will you show me to skin it too?"

Errors persisted as they slowly broke beyond the sea of Pavilions. He would not stop speaking, his breath was intrusively loud, and so were his cloth covered feet. Most detrimentally he showed more interest in watching Ronan and carrying on a conversation than looking around and observing his surroundings.

Solicah had never learned to truly observe his environment. Younger than most he was introduced to webbing, trusted with a potentially very self destructive knowledge, one demanding great investment. As a result Solicah's concept of opening his eyes was to close them tight, rest and allow his awareness to seep from his body, lower into the lay-lines of the plains and see from the other side of the web. Not to scan the underbrush for food and threat.

In fact, the only action Solicah showed any trust respect of, true focus, was his respect of the dagger. Still sheathed, he held it firmly as a tool, and was careful not to let it fall disrespectfully, or to unsheathe it prematurely. His bow sat unstrung still about his chest, not overly stressing the strong wood, and the arrows slung with a smart tie around his waist. Even his blue stretch of cloth tied about his head in a respectful manner. He treated his belongings, and other's as he would a strider, as he would a Drykas, with respect.

[Ronan]

Solicah was eager, that much was obvious. He nattered incessantly as they broke into the grasses, and his tread was far from being called... light. This could be an uphill battle, Ronan thought with ire. However, he had a bow, and he seemed adept enough from the way he carried it about his person. No fear.

Eventually Ronan stopped walking and raised a finger to his mouth for silence. He stood and waited to see if Solicah could do as he asked. He meant total silence. Vacuous, so that small animals would not know they were near.

"Hare," he mouthed without actually speaking. His hands moved in grassland sign, hare ears and a hopping gesticulation. Then his finger came down to a small patch on the ground. That was what had alerted him. Hare droppings, and still fresh by the looks of it.

"Keep alert," he said wordlessly again, "look around you."

He began to scour the grasses with his eyes, and his hand slowly moved to his side and the sheathed dagger which he moved into a position in front of him. The dagger was a strong weapon in the right hands, but it also had no size of its own, and so required agility on the part of its user.

For a moment, he didn't see anything. But a slight bending of grass to the left made his ears prick up. He glanced down and saw the flash of a small animal. He waited, to see if Solicah could stay quiet, and if the flaxen haired boy would see it too.

[Solicah]

Solicah followed Ronan's hand to the ground with his bright eyes. He seemed alert enough, but it was anyone's guess what he truly saw. He did catch the matalic flash in Syna's rays as Ronan extracted his blade, and Solicah followed in suit. He tucked the sheathe quite snugly behind is ear, held secure by the cloth around his brow.

In observing Ronan he succeeded, he looked to the way he crouched, but allowed his eyes to remain above grass level, and observed the way he gripped at the blade. Solicah took the time to turn the blade opposite in his hand, he had never before been shown a hunter's way of holding a dagger. It felt awkward to his notice hands, not strong as it should. But Ronan was his guide, and to him this was a dance, poise was of utmost importance. Balance, technique, stance.

Still, his diminutive awareness could not be expanded hastily, he still knew not the first thing of looking around, nor did he understand even the rudimentary animal husbandry needed to predict the hare's whereabouts. He stared more at Ronan, and mimicked his movements of looking around without truly observing any movement beyond a strong fall wind shifting across the tips of the high grass, now beginning to flatten in patches, not having the resilience of spring and summer grass any longer.

He awaited his guide's next movements so he may follow in this deadly dance.

[Ronan]

Remarkably, Solicah remained relatively quiet, brandishing his own dagger. A splash of his own colour came into it as he tucked the sheath behind his ear.

Ronan crouched low and began to move through the grass. He didn't press down with his heel, teetering on the balls of his feet. He retained his balance though, stalking through the long grass. Behind, he assumed Solicah was following, mimicking his movements.

He caught sight of the hare again. They were downwind from it. Ronan had made sure of that. It's attention was on something else, ears up and erect, so Ronan crouched even further until his chest was pressed against the grass, and the smell of earth rose up his nostrils.

They waited like that for a long while before Ronan decided to act. He would lead by example, and then Solicah could kill the next animal they came to. Ronan took the opportunity and swiftly lunged forward, reaching with one hand to grab the hare by its neck and slashing it with engineered precision with the other. It didn't squeal, or have time to think, for blood already stained the blade.

Ronan looked to Solicah, clutching the hare.

"You can skin this one if you'd like," he said, bringing it in front of the boy. He began to demonstrate by wedging the dagger beneath and slowly pulling forward to peel back the skin. It was a gory process, but a necessary one if they were to eat the hare for their meal.

[Solicah]

Solicah moved with untrained silence, careful to hold balance, tightening his core muscles as the two pushed near silently through the wind shuffled grasses. The action took different muscles than Solicah knew to use, not being accustomed to moving so low to the ground.

Even up to the last moment Solicah spent so much of his little attention mimicking Ronan's steps, measuring his breath silently in tandem that he nearly missed the finale. Ronan lunged, there was fur, a high pitched squeal which ended with a spurt of blood before it could truly begin. Solicah grinned with excitement, Ronan was a force to behold, and he watched as carefully as he could as Ronan took the creature apart, eviscerating it with practiced precision.

"That was amazing, it didn't even have a chance, Ronan. They will tell stories about your hunting to children of the next century. You will be hearing of your skill in your next life!" He praised more until it became clear he should be observing the process, and he began asking clear questions.

"So which parts do you take out?" He knew there were things inside of people, but he had always imagined them more finite, and solid. Like smooth sanded wood with varying varnishes, or perhaps clean red silks layered neatly together. Instead the reality was much more visually abrasive. Sticky still warm blood seeped from everywhere and each miscut was met with a foul aroma.

He stepped in when Ronan prompted and ran his blade along the parts as Ronan instructed. His pressure was inconsistent at the bet of times, and he found it more difficult than it seemed to run the tip of the blade between the flesh and fur to sheer clean the fatty adhesive which held the creature together. Still, as time stretched on and Solicahs fingers got colder he commented upon the amazement that the creature was indeed looking more and more "like dinner."

Still, this hare would be Ronan's meal, and what Solicah wanted was to bring back his own prize, so once Ronan had taught Solicah to take the creature apart and bind it with it's own twisted entrails Solicah asked if they could hunt again. Ronan allowed such without reprise.

It was chimes later Solicah's patience waned. He tried to open his senses, to look around, to listen for rustling in the grasses. He knew the vague concepts at play, the height of the game, the tracks, the wind. But, alas, even with these in his mind he found it difficult to push his body to truly understand the numerous stimuli flowing around him, and as a result they passed more than a few leads that could find rodents of varying type within the lush undergrowth, all preparing for winter.

Almost ready to give up, Solicah's eyes narrowed at the whole situation. He silently signed back to wait a moment. It looked as if he was calming himself down at first, centering himself so he may approach the hunt with new clarity. Instead Solicah let out three long measured breaths, relaxed his pose, and even let one knee firmly press down onto the soil below to brace. His eyes slid shut, and his mind focused inward. His heart slowed, his body held nearly completely still, only its innate grasp of balance holding it erect as Solicah let go of his body, trusting it on its own as he opened his eyes, not the physical ones, but his true eyes. He loved the euphoric sensation of expanding, of moving beyond the limitations of body.

The web stretched out before him, bright and complex along the grasslands, he viewed his own curled hair swaying in the strong fall breeze, and stretching out from him the thick tethers he would someday have to sever, connecting him to his Pavilion, to his parents, to his instructors. Slowly he ran his fingers along them, felt each one. In an instant he was there, and with Ronan in the field simultaneously. They were all doing well, and none traversed the web at that time. Still, it made him feel safe to know he could find them, to know they were there with him, connected.

With some concentration he found his way back to his body, drifting incorporally along strands of colourful fluctuation of "light" running from his mind and heart. It took considerably more focus to stretch his awareness outward even just several yards from his physical location. He did not push himself, he took his time enjoying the work. He could reach those he had strong bonds with, that he had cultivated strands to, but to see that which he had not planted, that only lay parallel to strands Drykas of old laid, this was a challenge.

"Hare." He summoned with unmoving lips. He searched for the essence, beginning with the life Ronan and he had taken just chimes before. Once its corpse light shown dimly in the weightless obys he reached toward it, running his shapeless fingers along it's strands. Like unwoven wool it was in a state of transition, loose and uncertain. It had been so definite before death, but still some strands ran from it. Natural wisps of soul tying it to the earth. The lines fringed with green shown where it took its energy from, just as Ronan and Solicah would take its remaining soon enough. It took some divining before Solicah discovered the thin lines of red, they felt like the slightest of breezes running to and from the now deceased creature. Its family had worked so hard to create it, lending it the wisdom to run, to hide, to survive, and those ties were still there, and its family was still near by. A small den of yearlings, cuddled snugly together for warmth while they awaited their parent's reemergence, not risking running about till the sky dimmed somewhat.

They were too young, Solicah would leave them to age, to breed once before he took them. Running along their dim auras, however, Solicah found similar strands, one that he wove carefully and slowly together along with one from the cold hare by his side. The second parent roamed only a number of yards beyond them, and it was deeply engrossed in its feeding.

Invisibly Solicah smiled and hunched over the creature, running his fingers within the petite being.

"Hare, I intend to hunt you, but know that your sons and daughters will be left to grow strong, and some day you shall return to us in form of your descendant. Thank you for your time in our plains, may you join the web of our land knowing that your life has not been in vain."

As he spoke his words, not even a whisper in the wind, he ran his fingers along the hare's strands of djed and twisted them together, weaving them into a signature Solicah could follow. It was dim, and with the lack of a root would fade in a brief amount of time. Still, it would serve its purpose. Solicah could track it.

Solicah's physical eyes opened again with a start, the familiar pricking pain of blood circulating yet again through cool limbs met him, and he held his breath as the waves came and went, his skin warming to the touch again, his eyes adjusting to the brightness about him. With an almost drowsy movement he smiled back at Ronan, still filling his body, then began quietly leading toward the mother hare. Movement was confusing at first, as he tried to reacclimate to the directions of the mundane world, all while keeping an invisible eye fixated upon the gentle red glow of his prey.

It was harder than one would think to translate the information of the web to the physical world, and it took some triangulation before they finally began to approach the still moving hare.

The hare had found itself into a private bunch of grass, invisible to the world beyond it. Solicah knew how close it was however, and so he checked the wind, as he knew he should. All seemed perfect, he balanced to the best of his ability and moved as fluidly as he could toward the tuff of grass concealing him next meal. Poised just beyond the wall of grass Solicah observed the aura before him carefully. He felt no remorse as he gripped the dagger as Ronan instructed him to, pivoted it forward and lunged as Ronan had, the opposite hand coming around to grab at the creature's soft form.

Solicah's surprise above the beast, tucked into what it believed to be a perfectly hidden sanctuary, gave him an advantage. Though still, Solicah's second site did not translate to a finite sense, and his skill with the blade, though properly wielded forced him to error on the side of caution, the plunge was not forceful enough. He connected, mostly with grass, but a twinge of fleshy resistance was met. The opposite hand curried more luck, grabbing at a paw of the mother hare. He grasped tightly, and the group of thick grass before him shook furiously as the hare tossed itself about.

With a final flourish the hare flung itself upward, leaving a shallow scratch along Solicah's forearm as it raced off into the plains, heart pounding like a war drum, leaving the two hunters behind.

All could have bee lost, but in a tiny steam a crimson dot of blood had stuck to Ronan's face just below the eye. During the final struggle and leap the hare had shed enough blood to fly off several feet, and this mean it was bleeding enough to track, in a true.

Solicah seemed disheartened, however. The struggle had broken the hare loose from it's woven markings, scrambling the fine signature weave Solicah had left upon it. To him, it was lost.

Then, with a lighthearted laugh Solicah said quietly, with a still scratchy voice from his time away from his body. "I suppose she will go on to give birth next season after all." His didn't seem displeased by the statement, just bemused.

[Ronan]

"You can eat most of it. All the meat, the heart, the liver. The other bits are offal, some can go in a stew or soup, and the rest will have to be thrown."

They both worked together to strip the hare of its fur and first layer of flesh. Solicah seemed to get the hang of it quickly enough. Ronan continued to work his dagger under, wedging up before peeling back when the resistance faded. Soon enough, they had made short work of the animal.

When Solicah asked to hunt his own without any prompting, Ronan nodded fervently. He was impressed, though he wondered why he'd expected any less. Solicah was nothing if not enthusiastic. Syna's radiance, walking around and talking. That's what he was.

First, Solicah followed Ronan's first steps, and then began to track all of his own accord. He watched, listened, and moved smoothly through the grass. The motions were strangely nostalgic for Ronan. It wasn't too different from watching his brother, except this was the other way round.

Then, the golden haired boy did something different. He knew that look. That trance like countenance. He was in the Web, albeit briefly. Ronan felt a pang of shame. He had never learnt. He had never seen the strands that linked them all. Michaeus had died too young to share the Drykas mystery with him. He hoped, one day, he could learn, though he could not ask Solicah now. He would not.

The man suddenly gasped back to reality, and something clicked behind those eyes. He'd found something on the Web. Ronan followed him closely behind, though not too obtrusively. He was following something unseen, and something Ronan couldn't quite understand, though he trusted the boy's judgement.

What did he know of magick, after all?

When they came to the hare, Solicah seemed set. He acted quickly, flourishing the dagger. Though it seemed perfect at first, he did not strike with Ronan's convictions. A struggle ensued, and Ronan felt blood on his face, splattered from the grisly chaos. In the end, it was the hare that won.

He smiled softly at Solicah's words.

"We can't win them all. Prey gets away from the best of us. That's just the way of the grass. But you did well, Solicah. You should be proud of yourself." He wiped the blood from his face, and glanced around, fowards to where the hare had fled. "But you know, if it's bleeding, it's injured. It will be slow, and probably dazed. If we move now, you'll still catch it. That's the way of things, Solicah."

[Solicah]

It had not even dawned on the young Moondirge man that an animal might be pursued following its spilled blood. The concept excited him, and he felt the familiar and tempting pull to the web. Just before slipped off into the mist, however, Ronan took off, an action met with only confusion from Solicah.

"Oh." He said with an obvious as the sudden epiphany met him. "You mean here with our eyes. I guess that makes sense, but how are we going to find each track if we can't see how they are connected? You must be a master hunter if you can anticipate that."

To Ronan the trail seemed rather obvious, with inelegantly displaced grass, and large smears of quickly escaping blood, Solicah must have nicked an artery, the trail appeared at least every few feet. At Solicah's experience the feat of finding each marker of blood upon the low stalks of grass seemed mind bogglingly impressive or more aptly like blind luck. It was only after a few chimes of expedient pursuit and a good half mile of zig-zagging before the two finally came upon the rodent laying prostate in a thick cluster of grass breathing rushed and shallow breaths pervading her small form, its terrified eyes staring with panic up toward the hunters.

Solicah's face hardened slightly at the sight, and without prompting he moved to the creature's side and drew the borrowed blade again. He did not waste time speaking before pinning the exhausted creature down with his off hand, and with a swift though clumsy action plunging the knife through its neck, a shrill snap resounded through the grasses as its delicate spine was severed. The wind seemed to halt for a moment at the sound, and all rested as the creature spasmed then died beneath Solicah's hand. Solicah had not the experience to know the death would have been quicker if he had simply snapped her neck with his bare hands.

"Thank you, Mother Hare, for populating the grasslands and for feeding us. Your sacrifice has value, and will set the trail for your return." Then, from stoic and serious Moondirge priest to his usual temperament a huge grin dominated Solicah's face and he looked at Ronan with overwhelming appreciation.

"This is amazing, thank you for teaching me this Ronan! I give you my word I will improve! And, I will think of you every time I hunt, and ever time I eat my prey." Then with what to him must have seemed a playful and appreciative gesture he flung his hand outward toward Ronan's face, a thick stream of warm fresh blood clinging with glistening red, threatening to coat his cheek and lower lip.

Laughing loud enough to scare off any small game that may had still been in the area he pushed up his hands in defense of a possible retaliation. "Wait! We have to honor our prey. It wouldn't be right to hit me!" More giggles bubbled out from him as he quickly continued, "How do you skin them again? I forget! You should show me."

Finally with more giggled he Allowed a retaliating strike if Ronan wished then picked up the dropped blade and wiped off its tip, following Ronan's instructions as he sectioned off the pelt, cutting too deep in a several joints which would later make the meat taste gamey. Following the sections his struggled to get the ends of each section up, but was pleased how much easier the process was once the piece has already begun to lift. He just ran the sharped blade just below the fur where skin clung to the exterior layer of organ stretched over the meaty flesh beneath. Again the blade was unruly even in the relatively easier bits of skinning, leaving the hide with a series of holes making it unfit for anything but rags and string, but with care he managed to minimize the amount of punctures into the meat itself.

"Well, maybe someone can make a hat out of it. Those," he pointed in jest at two large holes, "can be ear holes, so hunters can still hear!" He carefully folded the skin and set it aside.

Once all of the skin was removed Ronan helped guide Solicah's hand in splitting the small animal down the center, then directed him once more in which areas to extract and which it leave for later. Once lower they discovered the shrunken womb of the animal and Solicah took a moment to run his fingers over it when Ronan explained to him what it was. "She gave birth to a whole den of leveret near by, probably in spring or summer." He explained quite sobered of his giggles by the concentration he had been using to dissect. "The hare you hunted was the father. They both did their part to continue their family, and so I am sure they will transition with ease." With that he gave a reassuring smile and gingerly cut the remaining organs from the creature's lower cavity then had Ronan show him how to use its own entrails to string it for easy transportation for their walk back.

[Ronan]

"Pressed grass and blood - if you connect each up you get a path to follow," Ronan instructed, gesturing with his eyes towards the gory trail that had been lain out for them.

They trekked for a little, Ronan hanging back to allow Solicah to find the signs of the hare's flight. When they finally found it, it had collapsed into the grasses. Blood loss had clearly gotten the better of it, its breaths shallow and raspy. Solicah's slaughter of it was ill thought out. The dash with the knife would probably leave it in pain for a chime or too - if he had gripped hard and turned the neck quickly it would have died in an instant. Ronan bowed his head for a moment, deciding to tell him later.

The boy spoke his morose words, before the sun returned to his body and he turned, spoil of the hunt held in his hand. He flicked outwards, meeting Ronan with gory approval. He flinched only momentarily, the tiniest speckles of crimson touching his face. Scowling, he swiped mockingly with his hand.

Afterwards, he laughed, and nodded resolutely. "It was my honour." He pulled his dagger from its sheath, and as they crouched back to the earth, Solicah followed his lead with the skinning once again. Fur was chopped away, and the meat carved into as hearty chunks as possible. It was hard work, some of the meat particularly tough to cut. Solicah's handiwork was clumsy at first, but by the end his skills with it had come on leaps and bounds.

He laughed again at Solicah's observation, "I dare you to try and sell that in town."

Then, he guided Solicah in the final cuts, removing useful and useless organs. They paused at the womb. Having been raised a Moondirge, the boy had a profound effect around the dead and gone. There was something so much deeper to it. Ronan took one end of the blood speckled entrails and showed Solicah a simple travel knot so they could bring all the parts they needed back with them.

Then, with a flourish, he handed the hare to Solicah. It had been his kill after all. Ronan knew what they'd be eating tonight. It was a way of life for the Drykas. Kill or be killed, in the great circle they called life. It was easy to become overwhelmed by it all.

"Official hunter," he suddenly announced, before pointing to the boy, "Solicah Moondirge."