Lost in Silence (Khasr)

[Vallora Salvari]

Lost in Silence Timestamp: 7th of Spring, 513 A.V. Location: Endrykas City Limits Just as she had expected, Xaven was angry at her disappearance earlier this morning. The way he treated her, sometimes he made her forget that they were really the same age. She had never liked it much - how he had to act more like an Ankal and less like her brother. And it was nothing of a trouble really. Vallora had just gone for a quick hunt with Talvael. It was nothing live threatening. Some part of her could understand why he was so protective over her, but it bothered her nevertheless. Then, Vallora had walked out of their tent furiously in search for fresh air. Her quiver was already strapped on her waist along with her bow. She felt like she needed to shoot something. Outside stood colorful assortments of tents. People were bustling in and out of their housings in preparation of the final day of the Feast.. The loudness of it all had slapped her right in the face, disorienting her for a moment. The crowd's mood was cheery and high - which unfortunately was not infectious. Old friends greeted each other as their children played hide and seek. People wearing white, red, yellow, blue - every color you can think of - flashed in her sights. Compared to them, Vallora must have looked quite plain. In the heat of the moment, she had forgotten that she was already in Endrykas. Already, she could feel gazes aimed at her and for once, she couldn't blame them. She must've looked pretty annoyed. Well, at least they steered clear of her. They always do. Yes, she had learned how to ignore them, but it didn't mean it never bothered her. In effort to avoid being recognized, Vallore wore her hood and pulled it lower so it concealed her face. It had only been a couple of days since she first entered the city of tents and everything had already gotten to her nerves - Vallora guessed it had the same effect on her twin brother, which explains why he was being so moody these couple of days. How can they not? The Drykas was the kind of people who spoke their minds and most of their opinions about her she did not care to hear. Exiled, Salvari, sick, all those words were mentioned a lot. Only a few days being in a crowd of people and she had already wished that she could disappear into the Sea of Grass. She should've known that this was not such a good idea. With the Final Day of the Feast of Life in full swing, Drykas from everywhere had gathered in order to celebrate. When the invitation to Endrykas came, Vallora was not thinking clearly and said yes right away. She had longed to get out of the isolation. Well, you've gotten what you wanted now, she thought to herself. Inconspiciously, she weaved her way through the crowded plain, slipping in between tents and the bodies of the jovial citizen of Endrykas. She decided that she was going to leave for the other side of the city, hoping that the walk was far enough for her to cool down her shimmering anger. It was not a good day to have a fight with your family. Today was supposed to be the day where all dissension in any kind of relationship was forgotten. A day of beginnings. As she approached the limits of the city, she realized that there weren't as many people as it used to be. Not as packed as the last Feast of Life. Of course there wasn't, she reminded herself. The pox had killed half of Drykas population. Her pavilion had been shielded from the worse of it and suffered no symptoms. Other pavilions were not that lucky. Tilting her head back as she walked, Vallora let the warmth of the sun bask her skin. It brought a shimmer of joyous energy that Vallora could swore came from Syna herself. She should just stop thinking. Sometimes she had no idea how her thoughts seemed to skip from one thing to the next without a break. It was a good day. She shouldn't have let her anger ruin it. Slowly, the array of tents started to lessen and could finally the vast sea of green. She wasn't sure how long it took for the loud conversations faded into a soft buzz. It took moments later when the Salvari first noticed a figure kneeling down in the middle of those greenery. He seemed to be alone, except for the stallion not too far away from the man. Another Drykas it seemed. Under her breath, she cursed softly. She came here wishing to be alone and someone had just beaten her to it. As she came closer, Vallora noticed that the man was tinkering with some kind of trap contraption - she had never been that good in making traps. Oddly enough, he wore no color to identify him as a part of any clan. That's quite rare. Vallora closed their distance and she didn't even bother to stay quiet. He seemed to ignore her completely. Either he was unaware of her presence or chose not to acknowledge. Whatever the reason, he was probably the first Drykas around who didn't seem all so bubbly and sociable. Neither did he seem perturbed by her. Odd. Taken over by some curiosity, Vallora walked toward the man who was not much older than she was. She made no effort to call him out though, just wanted to let him know of her presence. It didn't take long for her to finally lose interest. Determined to get some solitude, Vallora jogged away from the tent city, fingers wrapped around her shortbow just in case the dangers of the wild decided to reveal itself to her.

[Colt]

It had been a good morning to wake up to. The sun had been warmer than usual, and the vague mist had been burned away within minutes. Songbirds were beginning to return, and he had heard the strong song of a grass-thrush as it soared among its fellows, bickering over some morsel or another. It was good. It meant that spring was finally coming back.

The morning’s hunt had been fruitful; both he and the falcon had taken kills, and while she had gorged on one he had left the other intact; it now hung from Akaidras’ yvas, who now stood a few yards away and regarded his rider with boredom.

The hunter himself was examining the ground intently, trying to decided upon a logical location to set his snare. He was a competent hunter and tracker, but trapping was a new concept to him. When he had thought on it he had immediately come to see its convenience and usefulness, and so had resolved to try and get a handle on the art. The process was close enough to hunting that he could apply some of the concepts of one to the other, but, like all new skills, he knew that it would take time to learn.

At the moment he was looking for trails. With Endrykas a few minute’s walk away most of the larger animals kept their distance, but here and there a well-worn rabbit run or pheasant trail peeked from the roots of the grass. One run in particular seemed to had been recently used; the remnants of little pawprints indicated what couldn’t have been more than an hour ago. Surely the rabbit would come back at some other time during the day.

However, he was sure to keep himself quiet. He had come across the tracks of a night lion earlier, and even though it was well into morning he had no desire to accidentally rouse one. He could only hope that there wasn’t a pride nearby.

He set up his snare, a loop and long wooden switch that would jerk when moved and break the unfortunate beast’s neck if done right. And he could only hope that he had done so. When he was finished he eyed the contraption, but there seemed to be little he could adjust or alter farther. With a noncommittal sigh he stood and continued on his way, searching for another spot for another snare.

Someone cursed quietly, and the hunter’s ears were immediately alert. He paused for the ghost of a heartbeat, but then continued as he had before. If not looking for it, the pause could easily have been missed completely.

Was this spot too old? He wasn’t quite sure. He decided to set up another trap anyway.

He heard and felt someone’s approach, presumably the same one who had cursed. He tensed, but did not stop. When he turned to search for a third site, he allowed himself to assess his new companion out of the corner of his eye.

She was lean, and her clothing was simply cut. An oddity among the decoration-prone horseclans. Still, she was peppered with different bits of blue, marking her as a member of the Sapphire clan, but that seemed to be the extent of her flashiness.

She was observing him warily, but making no motion to do anything more. Just watching. And so the hunter turned back to his trap-setting, seeing as she was obviously not going to threaten him or talk his ear off. As long as she steered clear of his snares, he saw no reason to interact with her. He continued setting his traps, and after a small while she lost interest and wandered off.

Something didn’t feel quite right. He looked at the trap in his hands. He turned it over. Something still didn’t feel right. He examined the trap more closely. No, the trap was in good working order. It wasn’t that.

He frowned, perplexed at the sudden rise of nervous butterflies in his gut. Was it something about that girl..?

He turned and looked towards the path in the grass that had been made by her departure. There was something he was not quite getting. The hunter strode towards her trail and squatted down to examine it. Her footprints were solid and feminine, as he had expected that they would be. So what...? Wait, there. There was another print, half-obscured beneath hers. Wait, that was...

Great Caiyha. She was walking straight after the night lion.

The hunter dropped his trap, whipped out a javelin and bolted after her.

[Vallora Salvari]

The familiar brush of tall grass against her legs were something Vallora had barely noticed by now and so, surrounded by the sounds of nature, there was nothing to stop her from being lost in her own thoughts. Xaven had always told her that it was a dangerous thing. That she might be caught unguarded and getting caught unguarded was not something anyone would like to experience.

Still, despite her brother's warnings, she had barely noticed where she was going. It seemed like a blissful day, with nothing to worry about. With no clear idea how much time had passed, Vallora slowed down. Getting too far from the city was not the best of ideas. Xaven would certainly look for her if she was gone for too long.

Then, her eyes caught something out of place. There, a couple of yards away stood a pile of rocks. It was set in such a way that offered shelter. She decided to check it out, taking some cautious steps closer to the set of bolders.

Suddenly, her insides went cold. Her gaze slid across the thick black mane of a creature. The wild animal was sleeping, its body rising and falling with each breath. A night lion, its fur like a starless night. She knew almost nothing about this animal. Only that it was dangerous and to be avoided at night. They were ruthless hunters and wouldn't hesitate to attack humans. She needed to get away from here and fast. There might even be more than one.

As silent as she could possibly get, Vallora shuffled back. Her movements were awkward with so much adrenaline pumping through her blood. The beats of her heart were so deafening that she could barely hear anything else. Slowly, but progressively, she began to put some distance between her and the lion. Five feet, ten feet. So bent on making sure that the lion stayed in the land of rest, she did not see the log sitting right behind her.

Unsurprisingly, she tripped and fell with a loud thump. A small yelp escaped her lips and her hands flew to cover her mouth. But it was too late. She could hear some scuffing and watched the black figure raising into its four legs. By Syna's light, it was massive.

There was no sense in sneaking around anymore. Vallora scrambled to her feet and sprinted away. She knew there was no way she could outrun a lion if it had started to give chase, but she could at least make some time for her to at least try to shoot. Her feet broke through the wall of grasses and every once in a while she stumbled.

When she heard the roar, Vallora turned her head back. It was a mistake. Upon seeing the feral animal, her breath hitched, sending a wave of panic into her system. She could not escape. She could not outrun this thing. She'll die. She'll die foolishly because of her very own clumsiness.

Don't look back. Don't look back.

After she was sure that she had put some distance, she forced herself to stop. Vallora whirled to see if the lion was still following her - and it was. She nocked an arrow unto her shortbow and took a deep breath. The lion was still taking it pretty easy, not in anyway rushing. It knew that she was an easy prey. Good, that's good. It gave her a clear target. Without a moment to waste, the arrow pierced the air and struck the night lion's torso. It snarled and growled at her, but it did not do much damage. Her effort simply angered the lion even further.

Again, she had no idea what to do but run. This time though, she felt a foggy exhaustion wrapping around her mind. Every step felt heavy and black spots clouded her vision. No, oh no. When was the last time she had taken her medicine? No. No. Her legs slammed into something solid. Gravity took over and she braced her body by her elbows.

She looked around, trying to locate the lion. Once again, it had caught up to her, pacing about a dozen feet away. What she didn't expect was that it took a leaping run and pounced at her. Everything went slower and murky, almost like the time had turned into a thick mud. Overtaken by something strong, Vallora felt her body jerk and before she knew it, she was rolling to her side. The lion's claw grazed her skin. She couldn't tell where for she was too numb.

The lion was so close that she could smell rotten meat and the scent of the wild. Vallora scrambled back. It was no use, but she couldn't accept that she was about to die here. Its attention was focused to her. There was no way she could escape without it noticing.

Unconsciously, she had started mumbling a prayer to Syna, for she was about to die right under her light.

[Colt]

A sickening feeling of dread had settled into the pit of his stomach, spurring his step. He made no effort for subtlety; the endless grasses parted before him with rustling and snaps, and whatever animals had decided to use the area soon fled. He needed to get to her, to steer her off the course she was going. A night lion was no small creature; if glassbeaks did not exist, lions would undoubtedly rule the plains. He did not want the death of a Drykas on his conscience, but if he moved fast he might be able to keep her clear of an encounter altogether.

Hissing grass. Crashing brush. Someone’s heavy gasps.

His heart leaped to his throat. Damn it! A conflict had already been triggered!

He changed course to follow the sounds, quickly going over possibilities. He would have to distract it somehow to give her time to escape, then try and scare away the lion. That seemed a daunting task, but he had accomplished daunting tasks before.

A fair-skinned shape stood out from the grasses before him, but in an instant it had vanished below. What the... had she fallen? A frustrated snarl tore from his throat. In the same instant, a battle growl rumbled through the air. The lion was close to her. At any other time he would have slowed, crept through the brush silently and watched for what was happening and attacked at the best opportunity. But he couldn’t here; the lion would slaughter her soon, maybe in seconds. Maybe before he would even get there. He had to cast caution into the wind.

He burst from the grass, javelin brandished, and assessed the scene as quickly as he was able. The woman had tripped and was laying prone, eyes glassy with numbness. He could see blood on her, but could not identify where it was coming from. Had she gone into shock? He sincerely hoped not; he knew nothing of medical care.

The lion was angrily circling towards her, claws wet with her blood after what the hunter assumed was a failed attack. It was a male, young, with short tufts of hair on its neck and around its ears that would one day become a full-fledged mane. Though shy of its prime, the beast was a large one; when full-grown, it would be a sight to behold, indeed. It was a half-open bud, and the hunter couldn’t help but admire the color of the beautiful flower it would no doubt become, even as he let loose a bellow and leaped over the fallen Drykas to take a stand between her and the advancing feline. If he made enough noise and clatter, he might be able to scare it away.

The lion halted, startled by the unexpected appearance of the hunter. This human was larger than the first, loud and aggressive, and the juvenile wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. It turned to circle them, favoring one leg. The hunter narrowed his eyes as it displayed its full profile. Great Caiyha... there were fletchings in its chest. It had taken an arrow.

The hunter let out a breath, and for a moment, his guard dropped. The lion was walking slowly, movements made punishing by the arrow that spelled its doom. Not here, not now, but in the days to come the fletchings would snap and the shaft would weasel deeper into the lion’s body, cutting and rending as it went. Either the lion would bleed to death, or it would get lucky and the arrow would pierce a vital organ to speed the process. He swallowed and gripped his javelin tighter. He couldn’t chase it away. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he left this poor creature to such a cruel fate.

The lion, having decided that the hunter was no great danger, let loose a snarl and wheeled to face him squarely. In another instant, it was charging, movements jagged and pained. The hunter clenched his javelin over his shoulder, poised to throw. The lion leaped.

Caiyha, forgive me!

The javelin slid silently into the lion’s flesh, side-by side with the arrow and then farther. The sight of it made the hunter want to vomit, but he swallowed the sudden rise of bile and dropped to his knees to allow the lion to pass above him. Its agonized cry pierced the hunter’s heart, and the sound of the mighty beast crashing into the ground made him feel weak.

Slowly, he stood. The lion lay on its side, blood staining the grass red. It opened and closed its mouth in pain, but no sound emerged. It clawed the ground at the pace of a snail, trying to drag itself back up and not understanding why it was not able to do so.

The hunter turned and looked at the other Drykas. He was torn between aiding her and ending the lion’s pain. For a few seconds he stood still, looking back and forth between them, and then he turned and strode towards the lion.

oocI couldn’t reach you via PM to ask about the situation, so I took some liberties with the lion. If you feel like it’s kind of cutting you out, please tell me and I will alter it. But with Vallora on the ground and (what I presumed is) helpless, I wasn’t quite sure what she would do if I dragged out the fight to two posts. If you want me to change it, however, just say so.

[Vallora Salvari]

Stricken and bewildered, Vallora could only watch as a figure appeared out of nowhere, brandishing a javelin. She had thought that she was hallucinating. And she might as well been. Her head was throbbing and her vision was swimming. The illness had taken over her and odd visions usually came along with it. 

But then, the lion turned its attention away from her. There must be something there. Much to her surprise, the lion shifted to face the newcomer, Vallora long forgotten. It probably figured that she was too weak and helpless to escape, deciding to take on a new target. 

Once again, her eyes unfocused and she blinked slowly. All she could tell from down on the ground was that the lion was heading toward the man. She hoped the man would be able to stand his ground. Why was he here in the first place?

With trembling fingers, Vallora reached for the delicate vial that had hung around her neck ever since she could remember. Inside was a murky liquid the color of the clouds. The vial had been her emergency supply of medicine - if she happened to miss taking it. The amount stored there would be enough for hours and hours, but she couldn't be sure. Sweet smelling herbs wafted into her nose when she opened the vial and drank the liquid. It left a familiar bitter taste on her tongue. 

Vallora squeezed her eyes shut as the world seemed to flip upside down around her. A cough or two escaped her. But as soon as it had started, the dizziness stopped. She was alright now. She was sure.

Shaky on the legs, Vallora stood up and took deep breath. She felt much better now. The wound on her arm still hurt and she had nothing to bound it with, but she would have to manage. It was only when she turned her head that she realized that the man had taken the lion down - she did not even hear their struggle.

As much as she wanted to approach the man, Vallora needed to retrieve her bow first. Her pavilion was not a wealthy one, and she doubted she could afford a new one in exchange. After poking around for a short time, she located the familiar bend of wood and string. Sighing in relief, she picked it up.

She kept her steps light as she closed in with the man and the lion. Up close, the scene unhinged her a bit. There was so much blood. On the ground, smeared against the tall grasses. She yanked her eyes away from what's left of the dark creature and focused on the man instead. 

There was something slightly familiar about the man. Seconds later, it struck her that this was the man she had seen on the outskirts of the city. Now, that was a surprise. She did not expect anyone to come in time to find her body when she died, much less saved her from death itself. 

"Thank you. For saving my life," Vallora said softly. 

[Colt]

His steps were slow but steady. He circled the fallen beast until he was at its back, where its still-deadly claws would not be able to reach him. A roiling stone of disgust burned in the back of his throat, a disgust at the knowledge that he had done this terrible thing.

The lion half-rolled its head at the hunter’s approach and fixed him with a piercing, accusational stare. Though he knew the beast would not understand, he still signed my deepest apologies, friend.

The lion did not struggle when the hunter knelt by its head. It did not snarl when he put the knife under its throat. It did not make a sound when he ended its life. The pained limbs relaxed, the churning claws stilled, and its eyes glazed over. The hunter quietly closed them, head bent in respect.

Caiyha, he prayed, Great Mother of all creatures. Guard your son as he passes from this world. Forgive his death; it was a death without meaning. It was a death that should have been avoided. I swear to you that I shall treat his body with respect; he might have died in vain, but he will not be left in waste.

“Thank you. For saving my life.”

The hunter twitched, startled out of his reverie. Ah, so she had not gone into shock, after all? He turned, face as hard as steel as he absorbed what she had said.

Fool, he signed with a growl. He felt like there was more he wanted to say to her, but his thoughts did not produce the right words to convey it. Was she touched in some way, to think that venturing alone into the Sea of Grass was a remotely intelligent thing to do? Unable to form coherent words in his own head, he simply accompanied his statement with a jagged sign for frustration and disgust.

[Vallora Salvari]

The girl had watched the man in silence, afraid to break whatever reverie he was in. He was clearly bothered by the whole thing, while Vallora could only stand in an odd numbness that had always followed the taking of her medicine. Her mind was not exactly was and witty right then.

Still, it did not take a genius to figure out that the man in front of her was nowhere near pleased as he looked at her. Even without the signs he made at her, Vallora would've had a pretty good idea what he was thinking - and she could not blame him, really. What she did was stupid and reckless and suicidal and it was by pure luck that she managed to survive the encounter. But as always, the thought of dying had not scared her that much - slightly welcome, even.

Looking at the man, Vallora pressed her lips tightly together, unsure how to react. The man had said no word and for a moment she wondered if he was mute, or some kind. She was somewhat afraid to set the stranger off. Maybe keeping quiet would not be a bad idea.

Vallora glanced at the body of the night lion once again, her fingers tightening around the smooth surface of her bow. A lost and a waster, but she could not shake the gladness in her heart that it was the feline's body there, not hers.It sounded selfish. It was selfish. But she did not want to die yet. Not quite.

She took a shaky breath. "Thank you again," she mumbled tersely, not really looking at the man, "I will be heading back." Heading back all by herself once more was not exactly the smartest idea, she knew, and she was not sure which direction she had ran when she had tried to shake off the lion. It should not be much of a problem. Her Webbing skills could be put in good use - as long as she found a safe place for her to travel the Web undisturbed. Yes, she'll be quite alright.

[Colt]

The hunter sighed heavily, angry with both the young woman and himself. He wanted to blame her for the entire event, but he knew that that was irrational. There wasn’t a true villain in this story.

He clenched his teeth when she declared her intention of heading back; he assumed that, as it had not really included him, she intended to do so by herself. Had she not learned from what had just happened?

He shook his head. No. If she wanted to do that again, it was her choice. He would not help her this time, and so he turned his attention back to the lion.

He didn’t want to skin it; he was far too unskilled to trust himself with such a hide as this one. He would take it back to Endrykas and pay a professional to do it; he couldn’t afford to make mistakes with the lion. He had promised Caiyha, and even though he wasn’t sure if she had heard him or not, he intended to see it through.

But this presented a problem: he was not strong enough to carry a night lion. It may not have been full-grown, but it was still very large.

The hunter growled to himself, then turned to see if the girl was still there. If he asked nicely, maybe he could enlist her assistance.

[Vallora Salvari]

The man seemed to be pointedly ignoring her and for a moment, she wondered if travelling alone would be a wise choice. No, it was not. With a small sigh, Vallora had turned back to ask a small favor of the man. He was still not looking at her, instead he was studying the lion quite intently. She guessed he would want to do something about it.

Huffing under her breath, Vallora waded through the grass in order to stand closer to the man. She winced the slightest bit when her movements seemed to stretch the wound on her bleeding arm. Some more blood gushed out, but not enough to cause any alarm. Bad, but not that bad.

"Who are you, really?" the girl asked carefully, not really looking at the stranger. "I'm Vallora." She took care in not mentioning the name of her pavilion. It would be best if this man did not realize about for the moment. She could not risk that he might leave her here around at the mention of her forsakened pavilion.

By Syna's light, she thought as she truly observed the lion for the first time, it is big indeed. Was the man planning on carrying it back to the tent city?

[Colt]

The grass rustled with movement, and the hunter unconsciously shifted his feet a hair’s breadth away as the young woman ventured closer. The pale skin of her arm was awash with ruby droplets; she had not escaped her fate unscathed.

The man turned to directly face the woman—something he did not do often—but his eyes were not steady; they would lock repeatedly with hers and then flicker away in a heartbeat.

“Who are you, really?”

A soft, long-suffering sigh crept from within him. Such a question had been posed of him repeatedly over his seasons in Endrykas, and all had been difficult to answer. Who did a nameless man say he was? Akaidras and the falcon did not need his name to know who he was, and Slither did perfectly well without it. What would any of them say if asked the question?

The hunter shrugged. I am me, he signed. Without waiting for her to speak again, he gestured at the fallen feline. I need your help…

Like all names, hers did not come easily. The pronunciation was rough, and would most likely have been difficult to recognize as her name had it not been in context. The V was difficult, as was the L, and the R was more of a feral snarl than a proper letter. It was a… unique version, but what mattered to him was that he was making the effort. He did not often do that, either.

“… Bvahyorra.” We must move him.