44th of fall, 515 a.vmidday
The day dawned in golden fire, as it often did, although the colored clouds were quickly swept away by the dark and irritated cover of thunderheads. By the time midday arrived, Endrykas had been treated to several quick shots of lightning in the distance and the rippling growls that followed, as well as the occasional ticks-long bout of showers. It was, all in all, a very indecisive sort of sky, one that was quite obnoxious with its puffing up and posing but without the courage to actually commit to a thunderstorm. At least, it didn’t have the courage yet; the weather had been the same yesterday, and most were in agreement that the clouds would break for good soon enough and dump a whole Bluevein of rain down on them.
The hunting party entered a very tense Hunter’s Allegiance that day; whispers came from every knot of Drykas, all uncertain about their ability to continue hunting competently in heavy rain. Shahar kept an ear out as he angled towards the Spit Fire with the morning’s catch.
Akaidras snorted and shuffled towards their destination at an uncooperatively slow pace, uneasy with both the weather and the dark attitudes of their usual haunt. Firm words and a kick kept him going, although he made it clear that he did not want to be here for longer than was absolutely necessary.
At one side walked Tuka, teeth full of the feathers belonging to the dead goose draped over Akaidras’ withers. At the other side walked Snow, who was so proud of her own dead goose that she had insisted upon carrying it into the Hunter’s Allegiance herself.
Snow had been growing by leaps and bounds since her odd arrival to the Dawnwhisper family, and was easily taller than any grass-bred Luvanor. While she drew the odd glance from those who saw her, she walked at the side of a hunter, opposite a cat and with a goose in her mouth, marking her as a useful hunter. And besides, she was a well-behaved creature, and she was attached to a Drykas. She was left alone, for the most part.
The Spit Fire was a bit less busy than usual, but they were still quite happy to receive the geese.
“Good to see someone’s still taking today,” said his butcher, a tawny-haired woman that he didn’t know the name of. “All that thunder’s got the hunters wary. Animals don’t like it, niether, so they stay burrowed off. Bad day for huntin’ friend, and’s only gonna turn worse, let me tell you. You want both of those birds off yer hands?”
Shahar looked at Snow. “No.” We keep that one.
“Fair ‘nuff. No good going out again, this weather over us; you stickin’ round?”
Shahar shook his head. No.
“Takin’ home, then?”
No.
“Another plan?”
“Raised Sun.”
She laughed. “Right in the head, you are. Don’t complain; just change yer course.” She made off with the goose, throwing a cheerful farewell over her shoulder. She was out of sight before Shahar could bother with a reply.
My goose?
You goose keep. All eat tonight. Shahar returned to Akaidras and remounted, signalling intent to leave to Tuka. The poor weather would make for poor hunting, and so he had an entirely different strategy to complete the day’s work. The Raised Sun would almost certainly have a job he could attend to.
