Solo A Quick Way to Break Your Fingers

[Ceika Floodrunner]

11th Day, Summer of 513AV

(Part 1/?)

Mud. Mud was all Ceika could think about; the brown staining his opal shirt where he had accidentally wiped his hands after touching Tsvenus. The Spring snowmelt water had begun to recede and the harsher days of Summer season had not yet had a chance to remove the water from the land. The Sea of Grass was a vibrant green when you looked out over it, but from up close, it was made of squelching mud. Ceika stumbled when said mud tried to yank his boot off of his foot and he wrestled with his leg trying to free it from a sinking grave. He tugged again and the force of the release sent him tumbling down farther into the dirt. He sat there and sighed, the seat of his trousers growing wetter from the pool he was sitting in. His strider came up and stood beside him, whickering in what Ceika swore was laughter.

"Laugh all you want, silly horse." Gave a frustrated wave of his hands, gesturing for help. Ceika had long since stopped caring that his horse enjoyed it when he made a fool of himself. Tsvenus hadn't looked happy when he retaliated with a very feminine knot work on the strider's Yvas and mane. "Let's find some dry ground, shall we?" Ceika looked around, his back aching with the strain of lifting his feet out of the mud.

Off in the distance the smoke of Endrykas billowed into the air, but he knew it was impossible to reach before dark. The ride to the city would take the better part of a day from his current location. But, being so close to the city meant that if he got into trouble, help was just a tug of the web away. He was heading there to hopefully find a master healer that was willing to give him a more in depth study of the art of healing. His brothers and his father understood his need to leave the pavilion, to get away from the others of their clan. He knew in his heart and in the pull of the web at his father's mind, that he would always be welcomed back into their pavilion whenever he chose to come back. It eased his mind to know that his father cared for him no matter what his wives thought.

The Drykas allowed his mount to lead the way through the swampy mush and then up a sudden rise in the land. The top of the rise was more worn away, but covered in the tough, wind-worn shrubs of the grasslands. Ceika patted his strider's rump in thanks and was rewarded with a flick of his tail across his face in reply. The man took stock of his surroundings, searching the web for anything feeling out of place. He used his innate knowledge of the web to reach deep into the ground of the Sea of Grass, down through the roots of the world and made sure that no one was going to suddenly jump him the moment his back was turned. Feeling no presences in the immediate web other than himself and Tsvenus, Ceika proceeded to quickly search through his Yvas bags to pull out his cloak. The season was much to hot for it, but he decided that it would be a bad idea to sit out on the open plains while his clothes dried. He took his shirt off over his head with care, his back twinging with the reaching motion.

No more mudding today then. He thought while cautiously stretching before undoing his boots. They pulled off his feet with a wet squish. His toes were white and soft from the soaking wet conditions they had been subjected to that day. His breeches and loincloth were next. They peeled off his legs like shedding a second skin and he laid them out next to the rest of his clothes on top of the shrubs to bake and dry in the heat of the Summer sun. He pulled the cloak around him and turned to remove the burden of the bags and the Yvas from his strider. Once his clothes were dry, he could take the time to carefully break up and scrape off the caked mud. His boots would require more attention to dry and possibly a fire. He would let the midday sun try to dry them first, before turning to the alternative while he made some shade for himself and Tsvenus. Normally he wouldn't mind spending an afternoon in the sun, but Summer was just beginning and he fair complexion hadn't had a chance to adjust to the harsh rays enough to keep him from burning rather quickly.

Ever mindful of the web surrounding him, Ceika gently pulled the shrubs from the ground, thanking each one in turn for their sacrifice. He would use them to build a shade for him to escape the hottest part of the day, and then he would bundle them up to be used as wood for his fire. He dug his toes into the ground and knotted the cloak firmly around his waist to facilitate his movements. He found a rare remnant of a large tree and, after checking for biting insects (a lesson that only needs to be taught once), he quickly built a simple lean-to shelter by layering the shrub brush on top of one another. He dug out the soil underneath the shelter as much as he could with his hands before tossing his bags into the small depression. Untying the robe, he laid it out flat and sat naked on it. There wasn't enough room for him to stretch out fully under the shelter, but it was tall enough to allow him to sit upright with only the top wisps of his hair touching the bows. Once again he checked in with his Strider to assure himself of Tsvenus' well being. They hadn't been together all that long; only a few years and they were still learning each other as best they could. The Gildling pricked an ear and then resumed his nibbling of the shrub's tiny leaves. Ceika decided that this moment would be a good chance to work out the final kinks in his back and began his slow stretching exercises in the hopes of relieving the pain flaring just above his hips where the angry scar spanned its existence across his spine.