34th of spring
neither morning nor afternoon
The sun hung proudly in the sky, washing the plains with heat and light. While it was not the savage beating that summer would surely bring, it was nevertheless hot, in its own way—certainly enough that too much clothing would make one uncomfortable. Still, if sweat was drawn, the tickle of the wind would soon enough cool it down, leaving the Sea of Grass in a limbo of warm and cold.
It was for this reason that he had deigned to leave off his tunic—the Drykas people were well aware of the risks of heatstroke, and while it may have been a bit early to make a habit of going about shirtless, his conception of social norms had always been a bit blurred, even on the rare occasion that he decided to care. He had little need for reputation or modesty—his company was that of beasts, and what need did they have for such things? Well, he wasn’t quite sure what Slither preferred to be classified as, but the Dhani still didn’t seem to care.
He moved briskly through the savannah, stealth forsaken for speed. He was still within easy distance from Endrykas, even on foot, and he had no intention of wandering far; hunting was sporadic so close to the settlement, but winter’s pox had felled a great many hunters—too many hunters—and the surrounding areas were left less foraged than they should have been. Animals were growing braver in their excursions, venturing closer to the city than they would have normally, and it made him nervous. If too much prey wandered unchecked, they would inevitably draw in predators. And that, he knew, would not bode well for his weakened people.
A disturbance in the foliage drew his gaze. The grass had been parted by a creature’s passage; solitary, it would seem, but very large. He angled in its direction, scanning the ground with a practiced eye in an attempt to glean the nature of the beast. Cloven hoofprints, delicate and sharp, supporting a relatively heavy body—a gemsbok, he decided, or perhaps a small kudu. Since it was not under the protection of a herd, he assumed it a bachelor buck, a young male on his first or second year alone. Not the ultimate prize, but either one of them would sport a fine hide and an equally fine pair of horns. The trail wasn’t too old; he’d wager half an hour, at the most.
He considered calling for Akaidras, but then decided against it. He loved the stallion dearly, but when it came to actually riding then their comfortable friendship was thrown into tensed assumptions and miscommunications. He was not used to being a rider and the strider was not used to being a mount, so he would probably be more successful if he did this alone. He reached to touch the javelins at his back, toying with each in turn to see that they were there and in order, and then returned his attention to the trail; he would need to move briskly if he wished to gain ground.
Until his step was halted; a flock of rooks began to chatter wildly in alarm not far away. Something was coming his way.
neither morning nor afternoon
The sun hung proudly in the sky, washing the plains with heat and light. While it was not the savage beating that summer would surely bring, it was nevertheless hot, in its own way—certainly enough that too much clothing would make one uncomfortable. Still, if sweat was drawn, the tickle of the wind would soon enough cool it down, leaving the Sea of Grass in a limbo of warm and cold.
It was for this reason that he had deigned to leave off his tunic—the Drykas people were well aware of the risks of heatstroke, and while it may have been a bit early to make a habit of going about shirtless, his conception of social norms had always been a bit blurred, even on the rare occasion that he decided to care. He had little need for reputation or modesty—his company was that of beasts, and what need did they have for such things? Well, he wasn’t quite sure what Slither preferred to be classified as, but the Dhani still didn’t seem to care.
He moved briskly through the savannah, stealth forsaken for speed. He was still within easy distance from Endrykas, even on foot, and he had no intention of wandering far; hunting was sporadic so close to the settlement, but winter’s pox had felled a great many hunters—too many hunters—and the surrounding areas were left less foraged than they should have been. Animals were growing braver in their excursions, venturing closer to the city than they would have normally, and it made him nervous. If too much prey wandered unchecked, they would inevitably draw in predators. And that, he knew, would not bode well for his weakened people.
A disturbance in the foliage drew his gaze. The grass had been parted by a creature’s passage; solitary, it would seem, but very large. He angled in its direction, scanning the ground with a practiced eye in an attempt to glean the nature of the beast. Cloven hoofprints, delicate and sharp, supporting a relatively heavy body—a gemsbok, he decided, or perhaps a small kudu. Since it was not under the protection of a herd, he assumed it a bachelor buck, a young male on his first or second year alone. Not the ultimate prize, but either one of them would sport a fine hide and an equally fine pair of horns. The trail wasn’t too old; he’d wager half an hour, at the most.
He considered calling for Akaidras, but then decided against it. He loved the stallion dearly, but when it came to actually riding then their comfortable friendship was thrown into tensed assumptions and miscommunications. He was not used to being a rider and the strider was not used to being a mount, so he would probably be more successful if he did this alone. He reached to touch the javelins at his back, toying with each in turn to see that they were there and in order, and then returned his attention to the trail; he would need to move briskly if he wished to gain ground.
Until his step was halted; a flock of rooks began to chatter wildly in alarm not far away. Something was coming his way.