| The sound of water reached her ears and she tugged slightly at the reigns, murmuring ‘Stop’ to Horse in Pavi. Horse did so, calmly ambling to a halt and standing quietly in the tall grass. Clumsily, Tyuru dismounted and stumbled on the landing. Horse snorted, stamping a hoof, and Tyuru glared at him. ‘It’s not funny,’ she complained in Pavi. ‘Just because you’re so huge… it’s difficult to get down from there, you know.’ She closed her mouth as she heard water again. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, the wind whipping her curls into her face. Tyuru barely noticed. Her mind was reaching out to the Web and suddenly it was there, the great Web of all things intertwined. She could feel the familiar feeling of calm and elation all at once at being so connected to such a wondrous thing. There was the feel of grass, blurred in her consciousness like a sensation from a dream. There it was, water, a pool not yet dried up from the seasonal floods, and yes, there were fish in it. She could sense a flock of glassbeaks about a half-mile away and a few serpents here and there. Her mind told her danger but in her current state she couldn’t be too bothered about that. No longer could she feel home. Her tribe had moved on. Moved on. Her trance broke and once again she was sad. For a moment she was distracted from her own thoughts as her stomach gave a protesting growl. She thought of the few provisions in the saddle-roll resting at Horse’s sides and that they wouldn’t last very long. Then she thought of the water. She led Horse to the shallow pool and took from the saddlebags the tackle and hook she had stolen in her rush to leave camp. She stared at the items in her hand, nonplussed. ‘Hey, Horse,’ she said in Pavi, turning to the beast. ‘What do I do with these?’Horse just looked at her, chewing some grass in the slow, quiet way he had. ‘You don’t know either, huh?’ Tyuru murmured, looking again at the fishing equipment, wishing eating was as easy as nibbling the grass. After much consideration, she tied the hook on the end of the line. What now? She’d never fished before. The fish were seasonal and died as soon as the water dried up. Not many people bothered learning how to do it, and if they did, nobody could be bothered to ask to be taught. She’d only had fish a few times herself and thought it wonderful but a rare delicacy. From the few times she’d heard talk of fishing, she’d heard the word ‘bait’. Bait. What a strange word. She remembered, clear as day, going up to a member of the Pavilion and managing to find out what it meant, the question in amongst much flattery and modesty on her part. Bait was like a trap, they told her, and it was normally the prey of the thing you were trying to catch. What’s prey? she had asked. It’s the animal that is food for another animal, the person told her, then shooed her away. Such silly children with all their questions! Her stomach growled again. ‘That’s not very ladylike,’ she told her stomach. Horse was watching her. She looked at him and he looked back. She realised she might be slightly hysterical. ‘Bait,’ she said. ‘I need bait.’ Horse stamped away a few flies. ‘That’s it!’ Tyuru said, coming to a solution. ‘Flies. Fish eat flies, don’t they?’ After about thirty chimes, Tyuru had succeeded in catching and killing a fly. The thing sat pathetically in her palm and she speared it with the hook, flushed with success at having finally caught the teasing insect. Once again, she was at an impasse. These infernal things! Who would use this kind of thing, anyway? Why would one create such items?! Giving a frustrated sigh, she tossed the line into the shallow water. It sank slowly, growing faint under the light dancing on the water’s surface. ‘So, now I wait?’ Tyuru said aloud, holding the line uncertainly. She could see the shadows of small fish about the length of her hand flitting beneath the wavering skin of the water. And wait she did. Eventually, holding the loose line, she settled on her bedroll, laying her cloak lazily over her head to shield her from the dying sun. She waited thus for a good hour or so. ‘What is life?’ she contemplated after about ten minutes of staring meaninglessly at the water. She asked this aloud in Pavi, turning to squint at the large silhouette of Horse against the sun-streaked sky. Horse gave her one of his slow, calm stares, and went back to chewing silently. Tyuru looked away. ‘Pfft, yeah. Like a horse would know, anyway. I bet all you think about is your favorite kind of grass.’ At this, Horse made a noise somewhere between a snort and a sigh that plainly conveyed annoyance. Tyuru ignored him. ‘Because, I guess we never really think about it,’ she continued, crossing her legs and waving one lazily in the gathering cool, ‘but life is really… intricate, you know? It’s just…’ she yawned, ‘…so complicated, sometimes. I really wish I was a horse. You guys have it so easy. All you have to worry about is the tightness of your girth strap, huh?’Horse ignored her after that, but the fatigue and hunger moved her mouth. Perhaps she was hysterical. ‘I mean… what are we supposed to do with life, anyway?’ she mused, resting her head on her arms. ‘The gods haven’t given me a sign. What am I supposed to be doing, right now? Should I really be fishing? Or,’ she admitted, ‘trying and failing to fish? Or should I be riding endlessly as I have been doing the last, what, week?’ Horse offered no answer. This conversation continued for another forty or so chimes. Maybe it was less. Mostly, Tyuru complained about how alone she felt and how lost and how she wished the gods would send a sign. By the time there was any movement at all from the limp line, the sun was down and Tyuru was falling asleep. The line held loosely in her hand tugged and she unconsciously held it tighter. It tugged again and she woke fully, twining the line around her hand and grasping it firmly. ‘I’ve got something!’ she said excitedly to the peacefully dozing horse beside her. He said nothing, but she needed no reply. She was pulling at the line. Undoubtedly it would have been easier if she had used the rest of the tackle, but she had no idea what the rest of it was for. She knew the basic principle was to have a hook, bait and line, but the rest was complete nothing to her. She did not understand it and as such did not use it. Such was her ignorance when it came to fishing. It was difficult. The small fish were strong and all she had was a thin thread to pull on. After winding it around her hand and arm, she stumbled backward, trying to entice the fish from the water. It put up a fight. Or perhaps she was just weak. Finally, the fish flew from the water. She fell backwards, the grass crunching under her as she connected solidly with the ground. Wincing, she searched among the blades of green for the fish. She spotted the shimmering silver of its scales. It was pretty, about as long as her hand, sparkly silver flecked with duller scales of green. It was flapping pathetically on the ground, its lidless eyes staring accusingly at her. ‘I’m sorry,’ she told it. ‘I need to eat, you know. If you have any fish-wife or –children in that pond, I apologise for taking away its father. Or, are you a girl?’ She shook her head. ‘Never mind. Again, I’m sorry…’ The fish continued to glare at her until it died, and then afterwards as well. Her guilt at harming the defenseless creature faded as she held it up it triumph, one hand on her hip. ‘You see, Horse?’ she asked, waving it in front of him. ‘I know you doubted me, but look! I managed it! I actually got a fish!’ After the initial flush of victory faded, a notion hit her with force equivalent to a charging, fully-grown, galloping stallion, one which made her think of the old saying: ‘They’re a couple of arrows short of a Diamond Clan bow, you know what I mean?’ A thought that made her stare, mortified, at the fish in her hand, and then out over the grasslands at the complete flatness and treeless landscape. A thought that had nagged at her ever since she set out on her journey, a thought that had frightened her every night she had slept in the wilderness. Where would she get firewood? |
((OOC: I actually don't really like how this turned out. I think it should have been more difficult for her, and the writing technique was rather weak. Oh well. I've done better...))
