Solo Survivors

[Colt]

74th of summer, 513 a.v

The sky turned red when the sun breached the horizon, darkened by the rising of thousands upon thousands of dark wings that fled from the light with ear-splitting shrieks and howls. The turn of the day drove the Zith from the tent city within heartbeats, ending the tangled bloodbath as quickly as it had begun. And in their wake was smoke, pain and the strangled cries of the dying.

He stood, motionless and still coiled for combat. The silence pressed him from all sides, thundering deafeningly in the sudden absence of battle. The scent of blood and filth mixed with the acrid ash in the wind and clawed at his nose, his mouth, his throat with every ragged breath that filled his lungs.

Exhaustion swept through his body, and when he fell to his knees it was only through sheer willpower that stopped him from continuing until he was like a ragdoll in the mud. His chest and face were chilled by sweat and the early morning cold while his back and shoulders felt like they’d been set ablaze by the burning pile of debris he’d taken stance by. One arm was coated in red and black, the other in the barest film of dust. His body rocked between extremes, between the pain of the night and the pleasure of the end, but inside… inside, there was nothing.

Around him, warriors looked around blankly. Some lowered their weapons, some did not, and some, like him, fell limp in the sudden stillness. There was shouting in the distance, followed by the drumming of hoofbeats, but neither managed to break Shahar’s stupor—not until the rider loped through the shredded remains of the tents, calling out words that the shellshocked hunter didn’t bother to comprehend. Those around him, however, seemed to stir to life, dropping tired limbs and filtering slowly away. None of them bothered to rouse Shahar.

The shadow of a vulture descended before the sunrise and disappeared behind a tattered green flag. As he watched, the once-proud banner began to move ever so slightly. The wind was returning. And with it came the slow creak of a broken mind as he began to return to his senses.

How had it come to this?

[Colt]

A wounded dog dragged itself through the bloody mud, fur matted in places and completely missing in others. One foreleg had been so ravaged that almost the entire length was naught but tooth-marked bone that glinted in the morning light. Its eyes were empty, but they sparked with a dull hope when they landed on Shahar—it knew that it was dying, but it didn’t want to die alone. Slowly, agonizingly, the creature crawled to the hunter and collapsed against his knees with something almost like a sigh. It didn’t whine in pain or growl in anger—it simply remained silent, content to face its fate with the closest thing it could find to a master. Shahar watched quietly as the dog’s eyes glazed over and its body relaxed. With a final exhale the slender head slid away from the kneeling Drykas and came to rest in the reddened dirt. Though the motions felt unreal, almost as if it was someone else’s limb, Shahar detachedly put a hand on the animal’s forehead. Was this what lay at the end of their path now? The sheer force of the night’s trauma had shattered any illusion of security that Endrykas had given him; were they so weak, so mortal, that the Zith would attack them like cattle? And here, at the dawn of a new day—where did that leave them now?

The silver chord in his heart thrummed with worry, plucking at the shell of nothingness until it cracked and fell with a force to shake the earth. Shahar gasped as his entire chest suddenly close in, making every breath a struggle and twisting his gut until he had no choice but to lean forward jaggedly and heave. There was nothing remaining in his stomach to expel, but a handful of bile managed to scorch his throat and mix acidic yellow with the red and gray of the ground. His gut contorted again, struggling to find something to vomit, but the heaves were all empty. It was almost half a minute before his body ceased its internal writing, allowing him to wipe his mouth of stomach acid.

Khida was alive; of that much he was certain. If she felt any pain, it was eclipsed by a tumbling combination of shock, worry and the aching need to find Shahar. It was a need that he mirrored; he needed to find Khida, because in the insane, senseless wake of the Zith, she would make sense. She had to.

[Colt]

The Drykas dragged up one knee, wincing in pain when it aggravated the wound on his side. But even the pain was dull, almost detached as he fought to his feet; feeling, true, full sensation remained in him like a ghost—both there and somewhere else.

His innards clenched once more, twice, three times, but it seemed to remember that there was nothing for him to hack up and eventually fell still. His vision swam dangerously when he heaved himself to his feet. Through black and purple clouds he could see the world tilting, and it was a battle to remain on his feet.

He was vaguely aware of swaying, and he stepped to compensate. Was he falling, or just moving? Another step, another direction—he staggered blindly, arms stretched out for anything to give him support.

Something hit him in the head with a hollow thunk that sounded like wood. The pain was fleeting. The object was not. Shahar took hold of what he had run into as if his life depended on it, clutching at it like a rock in the storm of hypersensation and almost-sickness battered at him like a hurricane, almost like claustrophobia but without sight.

It could have been moments or years before the whirlwind subsided, giving him his vision back piece by piece until he could see the pole he clung to and the shredded pavilion by which it stood. The canvas was too mangled and filthy for him to decipher what color and clan it might have belonged to, but the walls were destroyed to the point that he could see within. There were bodies in the darkness, still shielded from the rising sun by neighboring tents, most too savaged for him to make anything of. One was half-missing, another with limbs that were too small for him to want to think about. Draped over the small one was the leaner, lengthier body of a hunting cat, torn open and entrails strew across the carpet underneath. The acrid stench of blood and offal hit the roof of his mouth, but he couldn’t bring himself to react. All he could think about was how tired he was, and how nothing in the world would be so sweet as to lay his head in the mud and close his eyes. To rest for a very, very long time.

But no, he couldn’t. Shahar shook himself of such thoughts, clinging to the knowledge that he had to find Khida, to make sure that she was safe, then find Akaidras and Slither and Drelah. He needed to move. He needed to find his family.

[Colt]

He twitched to release his grip on the pole, but stopped before he could take a step. He had heard something, something that he couldn’t quite identify.

There, again. It was a low… trilling? Like two dry pieces of wood being rubbed together, or a very creaky wheel. A third time, but… no, this time there were two sounds, one layered over the other. Shahar looked back into the butchered pavilion curiously. It was like no sound he’d ever heard, though nothing moved in the shadows that could have made such noise. And yet there it was again, soft and muffled, but distinct in the quiet.

Slowly, carefully, Shahar took a step into the pavilion. Another trill. He shaped his lips, and attempted to imitate the sound, but the smoke in his throat kept him from making anything more that a low rumble. The trilling stopped for a moment, and the world was plunged into silence once more. Then it returned, louder, with three… no, it was four individual trillings. It came from somewhere in the back, where crates and baskets lay atop one another in a haphazard pile. The Drykas stepped over the corpses, doing his best to avert his eyes, and approached the mess. The trilling was louder, and underneath it was the rough whisper of reeds being scratched. He crouched next to the bottom of the pile, where it seemed to be emanating from, and lightly tapped a basket. Something tapped back, accompanied by more trilling. Intrigued, Shahar took hold of the woven reeds and pulled. It caught on something, but he was determined to discover the source of the noise; the hunter heaved back, shredding the parts of the basket that had been caught but managing to dislodge it from its brethren. He landed heavily on his rear, the basket landed in his lap, and out tumbled four gray kittens.

Shahar stared at the creatures in his lap. One stared back at him, while the other three rolled and righted themselves. They were tiny, and seemed as if they had too much fur for their bodies. Their eyes were large, their tails skinny and each had a ridiculous-looking mane of spiky gray hair running down their backs—nothing like the sleek and proud adults that Shahar had always assumed them to be like. He’d never seen a kitten before.

The four felines proceeded to crawl up his legs in an attempt to escape his lap, and he instinctively held them back. No, they were too small, to innocent to touch the bloody ground. One trilled again and gnawed at his thumb, another began to paw his chest insistently. They were so small…

The heavy hoofbeats broke him from his dazed marveling. A large shape loomed on the edge of his periphery, one that was far too familiar to be another Drykas.

[Colt]

He turned, relieved, and Akaidras gave an exhausted whicker. He was favoring one leg and his back was slicked, but he wasn’t dripping blood. The Strider stepped into the pavilion until he could drape his tired head over Shahar’s shoulder, reveling in the relief of being alive. The Drykas touched the stallion’s head to comfort both the beast and himself, inhaling the horse’s scent, memorizing the feel of his hide beneath his fingers. Being by his side made the world seem suddenly easier, for he knew that he wasn’t alone in facing it.

A kitten put an oversized paw on Akaidras’ nose. The Strider whickered in mild surprise and tilted his head to regard the little creature, snorting at Shahar in inquiry.

Don’t ask me, I don’t know anymore.

The angle of the light had reached the inside of the pavilion, heating the late summer air until the scent was too thick to breath properly. Akaidras snorted and nudged Shahar’s back; they needed to leave.

The hunter turned back to where the kittens were still at their odd trilling. They hooked little claws in his clothing and tried to overcome the barrier of his arms, to find their mother and family. He sighed and patted a small one on the head. Apology. I will not let you.

But he couldn’t very well leave them here, not when they had nothing left to cling to but mangled corpses and blood-stained carpet. Shahar turned back to the mounds of crates and baskets. He took one that looked to be filled with harnesses of some kind, emptied it, and then gently placed the kittens inside, one by one. They mewled in protest, pulling another apology, but he did not let them out. Instead, he leaned over the basket so they could hear his whisper. “I will be your mother now.”

Akaidras once more bent his head, allowing Shahar to lace his fingers through the tangled mess of mane. When he stood, the stallion raised his head high, and together they both stood stable. Shahar’s vision swam as it had before, but Akaidras was an immovable stone in the swaying of the world, one that did not let Shahar fall. He simply waited, patient, until his rider tapped gratitude against his neck.

“Come,” he rasped into the Strider’s ear as he pulled the basket closer to his chest. “Let’s find Khida.”

- End -

[Praetorian]

Shahar

Observation	+4 XP
Hunting	+1 XP
Animal Husbandry	+1 XP

• Zith Attack: The Aftermath
• Only She Makes Sense
• What's that sound?
• Four Little Kittens, Four Little Signs of Hope

Notes :

As always, your descriptions are so beautiful I might cry... I mean seriously, your description of Sahar's mental state was phenomenal! Very good job! You received one point in hunting for attempting to mimic the sound of the kittens because such mimicry comes into play during hunting.

Have any questions, comments, or concerns? Think I may have missed something? Feel free to message me.