Closed [Kai'Neha Valley] Trouble Inside

[Magpie]

Timestamp: 59th of Winter Day after Snarlwing Invasion Current Location: The Sancutary Riverfall was still recovering from the Snarlwing disaster the day before, and the Sanctuary was no exception. Horses and other animals that had received bites were nearly finished being patched up, and by mid-afternoon, things were starting to settle down. Many city residents had visited the Sanctuary, mostly for animal or Kelvic related medicine. One pair of such visitors were Akalak technicians for the city’s animal menagerie. Karkash, a tall, lean Akalak with close shaved hair, had just dropped off his horse for boarding, to make sure a Snarlwing bite didn’t turn septic. “I’m telling you, Biggat, those Symenestras are on their last leg. They’re not going to last the winter.” “We’ll see… I’m sure all the commotion with those Snarlwings didn’t help.” Biggat, his stout companion, picked his nails morosely. “I still can’t imagine what could have driven them to Riverfall like this… I’m telling you, something had to have devastated their food source out in the Sea of Grass.” “That’s just the thing; they feed mostly on carrion. What could have destroyed the live animal population, but not leave any bodies?” “Where are they from, that little Kai’Neha Valley to the east? With so much going on, I doubt the Council’s going to spare a hunting party to go out and find out.” “It’s not that far off, but I guess so. First the bone dogs and now this? Not sure what we could do about it anyway. It’d take nothing short of one of Caiyha’s witches to straighten it out.” “Yea. I’m sure it’ll work out somehow though. Who knows, maybe Caiyha’s already got someone on it.” The two technicians shared a chuckle and left, not knowing one such witch was just around the corner, within earshot of every word.

[Gianne Basete]

It had been chaotic for days now at the Sanctuary. It was like Cyphrus itself was going haywire. Gianne wiped the sheen of sweat chilled by winter air from her forehead and neck. She'd been bustling everywhere wildly, checking on plants and animals all throughout the complex. But things were far calmer than they had been, and for that she was grateful. Something needed to be done on her part though, and soon. Probably even today. No, today is the day. I need to go out there and do some investigating, she thought to herself, mouth setting into a firm line. She was currently checking the ease of movement in one of the horse's legs that had been bitten in the shoulder by a snarlwing. Gently, she stretched the gelding's leg in front of it as far as she dared, almost parallel to the ground. The horse snorted and its owner, a young Akalak, hovered anxiously over her shoulder. "Don't hurt him!" the youth pleaded, to which she rolled her eyes. I'm starting to much prefer the company of everything but people. Carefully, she eased the horse's leg back and curled it up toward its gut as if she were going to clean its hoof. It was sound at the moment, so Gianne placed its hoof back on the ground. "Your gelding is fine. He's just been nibbled on the shoulder is all. Shouldn't be any damage. He'll be seen to by one of the healers very soon. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to be elsewhere." Before the anxious young man could pester her with any more questions she couldn't answer, she was gone, practically running for the hills. When it was safe, she stopped and wiped some more sweat from her face. If I get one more person asking me to clean out their pet's bites, I'm going to rip all of my hair out. Exasperated, Gianna pulled a leather tie from her pocket, piled her loose hair on top of her head, and knotted it in place. A cold, wet nose touched her fingertips once her hands were hanging back at her sides. She looked down and ran her fingers through the fine fur on top of Gini's head. The ghost dog whined softly and watched intently with eerily intelligent eyes. "Have you seen Rhy, girl?" Gini whined again, touching her tongue to the tips of Gianne's fingers. They were salty with sweat, and the dog eagerly cleaned them off. She smiled fondly, ruffling the bitch's ears. Without another glance back, Gini trotted off, satisfied by the attention. "Guess that's a no," she breathed, feeling lonely all of the sudden. With a gusty sigh, she leaned against the outside of one of the many stalls that were filling as more and more people brought their horses in for checkups. She wasn't sure how long she leaned there until the voices of two men filled her ears. It was a serious matter, the bone dogs and snarlwings. Kai'Neha Valley. That was where she knew she needed to start. It was as good a lead as any. Gianne couldn't help but smile, wondering how the men would react if they knew one of the very witches they were talking about was eavesdropping on their conversation. She wasn't exactly sure where the valley was, and east was the only start she had. The pair of voices had faded off, and she knew they'd gone. "Might as well get down to it," she said aloud to the empty air. Maybe Caiyha was listening and smiling. That thought straightened her spine and put more purpose in her stride. Her first stop was to her room. Bow and arrows, dagger, backpack, and her cloak. Next, to Gill, waiting patiently in the paddocks. He had not been spared by the snarlwings, but his legs had been untouched. Neck, cheek, and hindquarters right next to his tail all had bites, but they'd been treated yesterday. He pawed at the ground when Gianne threw the saddle and blanket over his back. Her excitement of getting out into the sea was infectious. By the time he was cinched and she was mounted, she had to have a tight hold on the reigns. His neck was arched and he blew loudly through his nostrils, ears shoved forward in excitement. She'd left a note on her desk for anyone who found it, which would likely be Rhy or Serrif first. She hadn't seen either of them once today; they'd been swallowed up by the hustle and bustle. Gianne smiled wildly, imagining the grasslands sprawled in front of her. "Let's go, boy!" Her voice was hushed but pregnant with excitement, and the moment she gave Gill his head, he took off as a brisk trot, tossing his head violently with a jingle of leather and metal. On her way to the gates she called to one of the regulars about her plans, telling them to pass along the news, and they nodded before rushing back to their work. When they were outside the gates and had nearly half a mile behind them and the Sanctuary, Gianne gave the reigns more slack. Gill picked it up eagerly to a swift canter, allowing himself to be pointed in an easterly direction. She reveled in the anticipation of the Kai'Neha Valley. Finally, I'm off to do something that could really help. It put a lot of a the stress that had building up inside her at ease.

[Magpie]

The air outside the city was chilled, but not wild. Breezes danced through what grass was visible through the snow, and stirred up twisting dances of snow flurries. A scant few clouds were in the sky, inching lazily south. The Kai’Neha Valley was a bell’s ride east of Riverfall, a bell and a half if one rode slow. Nowhere in the Sea of Grass could truly be called safe, but so close to Riverfall was as safe as one could get. On this particular day, nothing could be seen over the expanse of snow and grass, save for blusters of snow kicked up in the wind. The valley itself was nearly invisible until one was close enough to actually see down into it, and the sight that would greet them was unsettling. Starting on the hill down into the valley, the level of snow dropped, and no more grass could be seen sticking up through it. If one were to dislodge a patch of snow, they’d see bare dirt, with only the hardiest of dead weeds clinging to the ground underneath. The valley forest was a shadow of its former self, with all but the trees either gone, or shriveled to nothing and buried under the snow. It was an unnatural scene of winter death – branches were stunted, and only old, haggard undergrowth can be found. In the forest, there is evidence of desperate, destructive rooting by animals, partially obscured by almost the entire season’s worth of snow. On top of this snow, there are no animal prints. The snow and air alike are completely unbroken by any evidence of animal life. The animals may have been gone, but for one who could speak to those others may not hear, an accounting of what happened here may still be available.

[Gianne Basete]

Their brisk pace didn't last for very long. The grassland was blanketed unevenly in snow, creating lumps where the grass was clumped and flattened beneath the weight of white. Tufts stuck out of the snow in random places, sometimes a lot but usually just a little. The dormant stalks swirled and danced in the winter air, and a flurry was blown up into her face, momentarily blinding her until the flakes melted. Gill slowed to a clumsy trot as he navigated the winter grasses and humpy terrain. He wasn't like a Strider that was made for this sort of environment, but he tried. Gianne kept a hand hooked behind her on the cantle of her saddle to better keep her balance. The lack of a good foothold was making the ride bouncier than usual, even if her hips were relaxed. He would pitched forward often and stumble, catching himself before his nose plopped into the snow. His hooves made deep furrows in the soft ground, leaving muddy tracts. She grimaced but kept him on course, eventually slowing him to a walk so he could halfway rest. It made the progress a lot smoother, so she could let go of the saddle and relax. Gill picked carefully along, and the chimes rolled by like the clouds scudding across the clear expanse of sky overhead. When the ground started to slope, Gianne knew they'd made it. How long did it take? She wasn't sure. Gently, she reigned her gelding in and dismounted, swinging her right leg over and dropping to the ground. There was less snow, but Gill had done his job and carried her this far. Carefully, she led him a few meters down the slope, but then stopped. It was like the valley was its own new ecosystem of dead plants. Like a mausoleum for nature. Gianne tested the ground with her boot, then frowned and crouched to wipe some snow away. Damp, bare earth was all she saw, except for the beaten down stalks of some old sumac. Gill followed her to a spot further down, closer to the trees, where she tested the ground again. Nothing but dirt and soggy weeds. Gianne's mouth had gone dry. She stood and looked toward the forest, or what was left of it. It looked grayer than it should, shriveled like it had drowned. She trudged across the slippery wet ground and passed among the outskirts of the dilapidated forest, Gill plodding behind her right shoulder, hooves squishing in the ground. He snorted occasionally, and kept close. Her lips were pursed as she gazed all around, sometimes turning in a circle and lifting her eyes up to the branches. The silence was deafening. There were no birds, raccoons, opossums; anything. Not even any prints that she could see. Maybe they moved further in? A chill ran up her spine as she moved by a gnarled, twisted old tree that looked almost like a sick arthritic man. Its branches creaked in the wind higher up, and deep down she didn't think there were any animals around here anymore. It felt as if a fist had hold of her heart and was squeezing. Quietly, as if afraid to make any sound and disturb this place, she approached the twisted tree. It had two trunks that branched off in different directions, then branches that reconnected them. Gianne pulled off both of her gloves and tucked them under her belt, then with gentle fingers, she touched the gray bark of one trunk. It was smooth but cracked, with little knobs in it like warts. Even Gill was being quiet next to her. Tentatively, she tapped into the language granted by Caiyha, gifted in the form of the gnosis on her arm. There were no words, only images and emotions. What she sent to the tree were questions. Gianne imaged the forest all around; trees that were husks of their former selves, in such a condition that not even winter ever put them in. It was different than their normal hibernation. Then the lack of animals. There was no trace, no scent or prints or sounds. And the lack of grass beneath the snow. All of those images were coaxed to the tree with Nura, and the swirl of emotions she was feeling. Curiosity, fear, sadness, and confusion. What is going on here? Gill snorted softly, dipping his nose to sniff at the trees roots then raising his head once he realized there was nothing to forage for. Nothing but tough brush and weeds.

[Magpie]

There was a moment of haziness as Gianne's fingers ran over the rough bark, as though the old oak were surprised out of a deep sleep. There was confusion...and a deep, aching loneliness. It felt her question and wished to answer. In the wordless language of Caiyha, the oak spoke of altered tradition; the passing of rains, the high sun, the time of seeding. Vague images appeared in the mind's eye, like snatches of a half forgotten dream. Squirrels, thin and desperate, scurried through the trees, climbing back to their nests empty pawed. Until they were gone. Boars rooted, again and again coming up empty. Until they returned to the outside grass, and did not return. Snarlwings scoured the forest, high and low. Every morsel and bone was taken. They stayed with the oak the longest; until they too, starved and ferocious, left. But why? Time. The oak's time, the time of the entire valley, had been interrupted. A fissure had struck the valley, before the snow, before the time of the high sun, at the very beginning of the time of renewal last. The snow had only just melted, and the fissure struck. The oak conveyed a sense of deep wrongness as the fissure rolled through the valley like a lightning bolt, like a stone plunged into a still pond. And the valley...did not die. It lingered, interrupted. The grass grew tall, and died in it's time, but did not renew. New branches did not come in the time of renewal, and seeds did not sprout in the time of high sun. Flowers did not bloom, berries did not appear, roots did not expand. The oak recalled its own hurt - the birthing pains of its many children that would not come. The time of renewal... The common tongue called it Spring. The fissure... a Storm.