Solo Lion Heart

[Colt]

79th of fall, 515 a.v.
before dawn

The winds were changing, that much was certain.

Shahar didn’t awake to cold, exactly––the warmth of three bodies was enough to fill the entirety of their small tent––but he did awake to that particular knowing that it was cold, where he didn’t have to stick his head outside to know that the air was bitter and chilling. It pressed heavily against the wax-canvas walls, silently making sure its presence was known to those inside in silent promise of the continued shifting of the season.

Winter was quietly lacing her invisible fingers into the earth, whether the earth was prepared for her or not.

Shahar didn’t open his eyes immediately, although he was conscious enough; Snow, too, was awake at the foot of the bedroll, and was similarly possessed by a reluctance to move just yet.

Yesterday plan ahead, Shahar told her.

Groggy acknowledgement, plan what do today?

Place saw, small, closed, full of things.

We go?

Yes, wait, a moment, go to look.

Magic inside-look? It was her closest equivalent to “Webbing.”

Yes. Lookout?

Lookout what, cynicism, safe home warm no danger.

Snow…

An irritated huff. Begrudging acquiescence.

Shahar thanked her and reached out with his djed to touch the glimmering threads of magic that surrounded them forever and always, taking a moment to simply feel the presence of the Web against his consciousness. And when the moment passed, he pulled himself inside.

It was less shocking this time, perhaps because he was still somewhat disconnected from his body after sleep or because it was an experience he was becoming accustomed to after repeated jarring transitions. In either case, he slid into the Web with only moderate confusion and loss of control. It still took more than a few moments to adjust to his sudden lack of being, when his physical existence of flesh and bone was exchanged for something completely reversed. Light and sound and shivering pulses of vibrations were what he became as a part of the Web, his djed entwined with that of his home and people.

It was quieter at this time of day than it was other times; creatures of the night had bedded down and creatures of the day had yet to rise, and Endrykas, well… there were far more day creatures than night creatures within it. Aside from the odd insomniac or Watchman, the city was quiet, and so was the Sea of Grass.

Shahar took a few heartbeats to simply luxuriate in the tranquility, and then he was off, neither slow nor hurried.

A circuit around the Dawnwhisper camp revealed that all was as it should be; family slept in their tents, cats lingered under the wagons and travois, horses and zibri nestled together to ward off the night chill. No new additions, and no fewer than were supposed to be there; the camp was whole and well.

Outside the camp he went, outside Endrykas in a blurring flicker unfettered by the weight and burdens of the mortal body; the surface of the Web was serene around him, and beneath the serenity the echoes of ages, souls and knowledge past sang all the more loudly for lack of competition; the Web was an old creature, and its age was wisest in its silence. It carried him along his path, towards the micro-crater he had discovered the day before––a quarter-mile across, it was a natural siphon for water that had in turn brought forth a host of plants and animals, thick and intertwined and peaceful; the close quarters of the trees made it an inconvenient place for glassbeaks and grass bears and night lions, and while Shahar had not had the opportunity to deeply explore the life of the crater he still knew that the majority of the animals there were small, too small to be of interest to major predators.

It was a tiny, protected entire world in its own right.

The path was clear, and no strange terrors yet lay waiting for wanderers, so long as those wanderers knew what they were doing; as a destination, it would take a hefty portion of the day to make proper use of, but that was something that suited Shahar just fine. It would be a day well spent.

Shahar returned to Endrykas and made his way back to his camp, feeling a warped echo of recognition from Snow as his soul returned to the area of his body; she was aware of his presence resurfacing when he hauled himself back into the vessel of muscle and tendon that was everyone else’s perception of Shahar Dawnwhisper, although she still didn’t entirely understand where it was he had gone.

Greeting, what see?

Same yesterday, waiting for us.

Snow sighed, and Shahar could feel her hoping he wouldn’t say what he was going to say next.

Awake time.

But… longer?

No, firm, unwilling to yield, wake up time. Shahar turned his attention to his fire-wife, still tangled up in her arms and blankets. He extracted himself from his Naiya, whispering a quiet “Good morning, love. I’ll see you at breakfast.” And then it was time to move in earnest, slipping out of their shared bedding and groping around for clothes thick enough to keep some of that night warmth with him; a shirt with long sleeves was what he managed, followed by his favorite sheepskin vest and his cloak for good measure; if it warmed up, he could always take some off.

Snow was still reluctant to leave, although a few firm prods got her up and dragging herself outside. An annoyed, coming? and Shahar turned to give one last warm farewell to his wife before following the she-wolf out.

[Colt]

Outside, it was precisely as cold as Shahar had expected it to be––biting, vicious and all too eager to be mistaken as winter. Of course, with the lack of any real snow on the ground, that illusion was easy enough to dismiss, and the wind overcompensated for that fact by whipping all the more violently at all those creatures that dared be up and about at this hour.

The sky was thick with clouds painted in cold, frigid gray, cast into watery half-shapes by the thin silver light of the pre-dawn horizon that was only just beginning to turn from the color of slate to a few pale shards of violet in honor of the coming day. The grasses rattled beneath the wind, made brittle and loud by fading of the season; while the sound hadn’t much stood out within the confines of cloth, outside they were clear and unceasing. So long as one could tolerate the sound, it was a blessing; rattling grass would do well to cover up the thumps of hunting feet.

Still, the wind was a mixed blessing, what with its chill; Shahar shrugged deeper into his cloak and tightened the lacing on his vest. All his clothes were still possessed of the warmth of the tent, and he wanted to keep that warmth for as long as possible.

Snow shook herself and fluffed her fur against the cold just as Tuka slipped out from beneath the wagon to join them, letting loose a wide yawn in way of greeting. The cat and wolf took a moment to sniff each other fondly, and then Tuka made her way over to Shahar to receive the traditional morning scratch. When that business was done, the three left the camp to begin the day.

The first order of business was the traps Shahar had set the night before. He left Khida’s traps alone, knowing that his bondmate knew her own skill better than he, and focused on his own. The first was a few minute’s walk from camp, into the thick of the Sea of Grass where Endrykas was shielded from view––at least, from the view of those ground-beasts that were most susceptible to his snares. The first was empty, although the fur and blood scattered about the scene suggested that he had caught something; something else had checked his snare first, though.

Halfway to the second snare, Tuka spotted something in the brush and exploded into a flat sprint, vanishing from sight before either Shahar or Snow knew what had happened. Both stared at the gap in the grass for a moment, the only sign that she had been there, then looked at each other knowingly and continued on their circuit. Tuka would return in due time.

The second trap was more fortunate than the first, and was pulled tight around the neck of a groundhog, fluffed and heavy on the bounty of fall; while its fat stores weren’t entirely full, it was still noticeably larger than it would have been in summer. Fall was the time to eat and store, and this groundhog had been doing quite well for itself before the cord had found its way around its neck. Shahar removed the animal from the trap and removed the trap from the ground; he would reset both before sundown, once the signs of his presence had faded from the minds of the area’s inhabitants.

Tuka reemerged just as they were about to enter the camp, a dead raven hanging limply from her mouth. Although a raven wasn’t quite as useful to them as a rabbit or other ground animal might have been, Shahar still took it from her with due pride and gratitude; Naiya liked feathers, and raven feathers were glossy. Perhaps she would like them, and the meat could go to the animals; corvids were not the tastiest of creatures, and although Shahar would have no qualms about eating one if he was truly desperate, he also had a perfectly good groundhog in his hand. That would serve as the camp’s breakfast for today, and if they stretched it into a stew then they could still have its meat for days to come; with winter barrelling towards them, there was nothing they could afford to waste.

[Colt]

Dawn broke in cold fire, the typically cheerful signs of day instead splattering halfheartedly against the cloudy sky.

Breakfast was cooked and eaten with the rest of the family, and then the Dawnwhispers broke to tend to their own tasks; Naiya had her herds and cloth, Seirei her children and carving and Lale had most everything else.

And Shahar had his hunting.

Snow and Tuka followed him at a leisurely pace as he made his way to the wagon and then the herds, then settled themselves onto the ground a number of paces back; they knew that it would take more than a few moments for the last member of their group to be made ready.

Shahar set the yvas on the ground in favor of the brush bag. Akaidras, already aware of what was coming, ambled over for Shahar to begin with the hard brush; small, tight circles to loosen the hair and dirt, then wide strokes with the soft brush to sweep it away. Circles, sweep. Circles, sweep. It was repetitive and calming to both rider and horse, who enjoyed the moments of grooming to silently revel in each others’ company. It was an island of serenity that was all too rare in a life of danger and labor.

Shahar moved from the shoulder to the side, then the back, then the hindquarter, then around to the other side where he repeated the pattern before moving up the neck, then taking a final few moments to remove the burrs and tangles on Akaidras’ face with his fingers. Then there was the smallest of the brushes, soft-bristled to avoid irritating the face of the horse as it brought the grooming to completion. Last of all was the hoof-pick, toiling over each of the stallion’s feet to carve out the clotted mud, dirt and dung that had collected there. The unwanted refuse peeled away in sheets, layer by layer until each hoof was left clear and empty of what was not part of Akaidras himself. Then the hoof-pick was returned to the bag, the bag was exchanged for the yvas pad and the real work began.

The pad was slung over the back and adjusted to just touch the withers, followed by the yvas itself. Shahar kept an eye on his strider’s stomach, watching out for bloating––which Akaidras was not in the mood for today––and secured the riding pad to the horse’s back firmly. A last tug to check that it was tight enough, and Shahar signaled to the other two. It was time to move.

Tuka and Snow roused themselves somewhat reluctantly and made their way over, shaking off their short rest and falling into practiced step at Akaidras’ sides––Tuka on the left and Snow on the right. They were ready to face the day’s work.

The sun had burned away a large portion of the cold, and morning was proving to be less vicious than it had led them to believe; the clouds were even beginning to part here and there, allowing hints of blue to peek from behind the endless gray and send shafts of light towards the Drykas and their city. The day wouldn’t be warm, but it wouldn’t be icy; it would be tolerable, easily, and that was enough for Shahar.

With all present and prepared, the quartet of hunters began their trek away from the home of the Dawnwhispers and into the wilderness.

[Colt]

The world continued to grow warmer as the four of them wandered farther from the city of tents and into the grass; Syna was settling comfortably into her throne as the morning wore on, slowly but surely thawing the chill that had settled beneath the reign of her lover and replacing it with somewhat strained sunlight. The wind remained, however, nipping mischievously at any exposed skin it could find; Snow was quite content with the weather, wrapped up in an ever-increasing layer of thickening winter fur, while Tuka grew more and more amiable as the cold lessened.

Shahar wasn’t on the ground, so two predators knew they weren’t looking for scents; Shahar was fully aware that his discovery of the crater would be discovered by others soon enough, and he wanted to explore it as soon as he could. To that end, he set the pace at a steady lope, something Snow could keep up with and that Tuka could hold for a long time. It devoured the distance at an acceptable rate, and it allowed Shahar to keep an eye on their surroundings; the land was made of knots and threads of animals and plants alike, each dependent on one another and each present for a reason. The tracks and signs each suggested a host of information; jackal tracks: pack territory: larger predator they could scavenge off of: herbivores to support large predator: water source within reach: edible plants to collect: waterfowl. One thing meant another, and another, and another; in the wilderness, there was no such thing as coincidence.

It took less than an hour for Shahar to spot the subtle rise in the skyline that indicated the presence of his destination. That way, he said to Snow, drawing her attention to the dark shape. Where we go.

What is?

Safe-like place, many creatures home, water, plant, much prey.

Curiosity, want to see.

They closed the distance in short order and were soon standing before the gentle hill. Snow was the first to climb it excitedly, before yelping in didn’t expect and stopping when she found herself at the sheer drop that was the crater wall. Shahar was amused by the spectacle, a fact that made Snow immediately indignant, didn’t know, not my fault.

Of course, Shahar tried to assure her, although that didn’t seemed to lessen her irritation at being laughed at.

Letting her sort out her own feelings, Shahar dismounted and set himself to the task of bringing Akaidras into the crater; the walls weren’t a straight descent, and after a few minutes of coaxing the hunter was able to lead the stallion sideways down the slope, which was rocky and solid enough to bear the weight. In the meantime, Snow was curious enough to begin the exploration on her own, running ahead of them and disappearing into the thick greenery at the bottom. Tuka had no such desires, and lingered amiably behind the horse and Drykas.

It was a slow descent, but it was a competent one; Akaidras was able to find his footing with enough careful experimentation, and they made their way into the crater without injury. When they reached the bottom, Shahar gave his strider a thankful, encouraging scratch on the neck and bid him to remain in the area; Akaidras would not be needed for this hunt.

[Colt]

The shape of the crater was one that both collected water and trapped it. There was a large pond in the center that had swelled with the rains of the past season, and around the shores of the pond leaned foliage that could not survive on the more arid flatlands; there were trees here, thicker and more numerous that most places on the Sea of Grass, and under those trees the ground was thick with foliage and animal life. The intense collection of flora both fed and sheltered a multitude of creatures, and the closed-in nature of the trees made it relatively safe from glassbeaks and large herbivores, which would have difficulty moving at the speed they typically needed within the close confines of the tree trunks. And while it wouldn’t be surprising for a night lion to come through occasionally, Shahar suspected that the sheerness of the walls would make any permanent residence an unlikely choice for the felines, which needed larger prey than was present here.

Indeed, all the signs he saw pointed to animals of a somewhat smaller stature, more suited to moving quickly between trees. There were squirrels aplenty, and so Shahar assumed that there was at least one hawk that hunted here. There were likely more than a few foxes, and it wouldn’t amaze him to find a few small deer; all in all, it was a modest, isolated island that held its own sort of charm, and though Shahar would find no great prizes here, he had never been one for great prizes anyway. He wanted food, not renown, and the crater had food aplenty.

Snow was ahead of him, scouring the brush with curious excitement, her previous annoyance all but forgotten; the closed-in nature of the area saw more scents in smaller spaces, overlapping and becoming three-dimensional as some animals took to the trees. Birds sang, squirrels chattered, a raccoon looked up as Shahar made way into the thick of things, then went back to what it had been doing when it judged his posture to be non-threatening.

What that new bird? Snow asked from out of sight.

Shahar paused. What bird?

Snow flashed him a picture of what she was seeing: heavy, fat, with a featherless head and blue skin over the skull. A massive tail meant for displaying.

It stirred something within Shahar; a memory, dormant for years but never forgotten. Once, a very long time ago, Shahar had lived in his own crater, filled with its own trees and animals and pond, larger than this one but similar in all other aspects. He had seen that same bird before, although had rarely hunted it; he’d been ill-equipped for the task. Back then, his weapon had been Khida, and the trees the bird rested under were too close for her to hunt in.

But now he had javelins, and the bird was no longer out of his reach.

Stay there, keep close, watch, don’t scare, he told Snow. I’m coming.

[Colt]

Wild turkeys weren’t a bird Shahar often came across. The were somewhat like grouse in shape and general movement, although they were significantly heavier, but turkeys didn’t like the open plains that other ground-birds did. At least, that was what Shahar gathered from his experience; he had seen them a few times in the past, but never outside of the confines of thick trees and foliage. He remembered some around Riverfall, where the flora was much less… flat than it was on the Sea of Grass. He therefore assumed that they made their lives within forests.

But it was certainly the same bird, brown and blue-faced with a massive tail. Shahar had spent enough time within the Hunter’s Allegiance to know that turkey tail feathers were treasured by fletchers in particular; if he slew one, there would undoubtedly be more than one arrow-maker seeking to buy those feathers from him.

The turkey Snow had spotted was in a tree, eyeing the she-wolf warily but not overly concerned about her; after all, the turkey was in a tree and wolves could not climb trees.

But with a javelin, there was no need for Snow to climb a tree.

Shahar was fortunate in the fact that the turkey was not yet aware of his presence, occupied as it was with observing the white predator directly beneath it.

Turkey, prey, hunt, your help.

What do? Can’t catch.

Stay there. Keep its attention. I move closer; don’t let it know. And with that, Shahar drew a javelin and dropped into a half crouch, minimizing his size as much as he could without sacrificing his movement speed.

Too loud, Snow said irritably, making an echoing effort to not twitch her ears his way. Her perceptive hearing, he knew, was a blessing disguised as a curse; while her comments were often less than supportive in the recent days, they helped him improve––if he could grow to be quiet to Snow, he would then be quiet to everything.

And so he slowed down, eyes flicking to the ground as he carefully watched each step, avoiding twigs and grass in favor of soft leaves or earth. It was a bit more difficult than in the Sea of Grass, where there wasn’t a great abundance of fallen branches, but he thought he could manage.

He was a step shy from the place he had been aiming for when he lost his balance and tilted to the side, evading total failure only by sending one hand into the ground to stabilize himself.

He sent out distraction! the instant before it happened, and Snow pinned her ears and barked at the perched turkey to cover up the noise of his blunder. The turkey fluffed its feathers indignantly and sent a warbling… sound down at Snow, a sound that Shahar had no words for, and he was infinitely thankful that it didn’t even look his way. It hadn’t heard him.

And he was close enough for that to make the difference.

It was worth a few extra moments to make sure he was silent in regaining his balance. His gaze snapped back and forth from the ground to his quarry, making sure that he was aware of everything in his immediate vicinity, and in due time he was back on his feet, in control of his motions.

The turkey still hadn’t noticed him.

Shahar hefted his drawn javelin, carefully coiling back. The bird remained entirely focused on Snow, who was waiting in anticipation for her partner to make his move.

He pulled back the javelin.

He took a breath.

He set it free.

[Colt]

It was by no means a perfect shot. His throwing stance was rickety at best and his emphasis on silence had kept him from maneuvering as properly as he would have liked––the javelin arced sideways in the air. Had he not already been so close to his quarry, he would almost certainly have missed it.

As it was, though, the shot wasn’t a complete loss; it didn’t hit the center of the turkey, as Shahar had desired, but it did pierce the bird through the rump and legs, certainly enough to badly injure it. The turkey cried out and opened its wings, abandoning its perch with the sudden danger that had come into its paradigm. But even an uninjured turkey was a clumsy flyer, and while the javelin fell out of its flesh as it went, the wound remained deep and flowing. The turkey’s wings, although not affected by the javelin, were not able to take it to a safe haven; it circled around one tree, then another, unable to land without leg that worked properly. Snow made to chase it, but Shahar bid her to stop, wait; will land, make it easier.

And indeed the turkey did land, dropping to the ground just out of sight when it could no longer hold itself in the air. It distressed cries rang throughout the small forest, and Snow growled after it. Now?

Now.

Snow burst into a run, darting through the underbrush to where their prey had fallen. Shahar couldn’t see what happened next, but he didn’t need to; the predatory snarls and death-cries told the story well enough. There was a short racket as Snow made quick work of the turkey, and then there was silence. Shahar took the opportunity to pick up his fallen javelin, check it for damage and then slip it back into his quiver.

Snow returned moments later, struggling to fit the huge bird in her jaws. She deposited it unceremoniously at Shahar’s feet, and he wrapped her up in a proud, grateful embrace, uncaring of the blood and feathers that were still stuck in her teeth.

I did it!

Agreement, thank you, well done impressed.

Snow yipped in proud smugness, happy in the face of her partner’s compliments; with Tuka possessing the speed of the group, Snow did not often get to chase down prey in the same measure that the hunting cat did. The turkey was undoubtedly her kill, and it excited her.

Shahar elected to actually carry the animal as they made their way back to Akaidras, as it was too large for Snow to carry comfortably. It didn’t matter a great deal to him, and she was grateful for it; opening her mouth so wide had made her uncomfortable. And neither of them would eat it quite yet, that was for certain; unlike Tuka, Snow understood the necessity of moderation. They would not touch the turkey again until it was back home.

[Colt]

Akaidras remained where they had left him, quite happy to meander and browse the shorter, greener, sweeter grass that often grew in sheltered areas. He flicked an ear and snorted as the pair emerged from the trees, letting them know that he was aware of them, but otherwise continuing what he was doing. He didn’t fuss or even bother to lift his head as Shahar stepped up to him and secured the turkey to the yvas, knowing full well that to just leave it nearby would invite Tuka to take more than her share of whatever dead meat she didn’t have to hunt for. Her only way to get the turkey now would be to leap up onto Akaidras’ back––something that Shahar knew for certain Akaidras would not allow under any circumstances. Although years in Endrykas had tamed the arrogance and belligerency that had once defined the stallion, there was still a streak of pride to be found, and when angered, there was nothing holding Akaidras back from his old ways.

But Tuka would know better. Hopefully.

When their kill was secured, Shahar looked upwards to mark the passage of the sun. Syna was high, peeking out from behind the clouds whenever she could, and that was enough for Shahar to glean a rough estimate. It was either noon or just after it, with hours of daylight still ahead of them; although the days were growing shorter with each passing sunrise, he was reluctant to leave the crater just yet. It was so vibrant and full of life… he wanted to stay longer, to walk and experience and hunt again.

Snow shared his thoughts on the matter, not quite ready to leave the isolated pocket of serenity before spending some more time within it. Shahar turned, and neither needed to outright speak what they both thought; Snow simply turned and headed back into the forest. Shahar followed at a distance.

The she-wolf cut a zig-zag pattern through the brush, nose down for scents and information. Shahar spent his time examining the world around them; life was much more condensed in trees, and there were more tracks that intersected and overlayed each other. From what he could see, the majority of the tracks belonged to hares and rodents of various sizes, with the occasional sign of a raccoon or fox. There were likely several of each that made the crater their home, as their was certainly enough food to support them.

His curiosity was piqued, however, when he came across the unmistakeable dot-and-dewdrop print of a deer. He paused, leaning down to examine it; the print was small, undoubtedly. When he took a moment to locate other prints, he measured the distance between them, assuming it to be a walk, and calculated how large the deer must be. From the size of both the prints and the spacing of the animal’s steps, the deer was not large at all, likely not much larger than Snow herself. Not that Shahar was particularly surprised; in small spaces, he had noticed that most animals tended to be small. Perhaps balanced by the amount of food being reduced?

From out of sight, Snow flickered excited come see nice wide thirst-slake.

Coming, Shahar replied, abandoning the trail to see what it was she was on about.

[Colt]

Shahar emerged from the treeline to find the pond. Or perhaps it was a lake. Either a very large pond or a very small lake; he wasn’t sure. In any case, it was water, wide and glassy and flanked by trees at all points of the shore, a shore broken three times by what were almost certainly streams that fed into the larger body.

This was the center of the crater’s life, the heartblood of its bounty; this was the water that had birthed the trees, and the trees had birthed the closest thing to safety that could be found on the Sea of Grass. Atop the surface of the lake floated a multitude of birds, peacefully unconcerned with the white wolf and the Drykas that had materialized to watch them; there were ducks, a number of geese, and then there were waterfowl that Shahar didn’t know how to identify, black and white with spots and rings around their necks.

Snow was crouched at the edge of the water, lapping it up with a buzz of contentment, good place, relaxed, curious want to experiment. There was a certain sense of security that the place instilled into her, and it in turn affected Shahar.

Alright experiment, what do?

Unknown. Snow stood back up, licking her chin. Just… experience. Whenever, whatever.

Shahar chuckled. Acquiescence. We’ll see. In the meantime, animals were not the only thing to be hunted here. Over there I go, do what you want.

Understood.

Snow opted to linger where she was, observing the birds and the trees and the vivacity of the life around her. Shahar left her to it and angled instead for the northern shore, which was obscured by a wide stand of cattails; it would be prudent to bring some roots home while they were available.

A duck that had been lingering within the stand quacked in distress as the Drykas approached, although didn’t burst into immediate flight; there was a particular skill many animals had to recognize when a predator was actively hunting or just wandering, and Shahar’s relaxed shoulders and straight posture indicated that he did not have lethal intentions. It didn’t outright terrify the duck, but it did make it quite uncomfortable––the bird continued to put voice to its annoyance at the company, paddling quickly through the widest passages between the cattails until it emerged onto the open water to join its fellows.

Shahar bid farewell to the company he would not be having and drew his axe. Shahar almost never used his axe as a weapon, although he carried it with him everywhere; it was versatile as a tool, and could be used for most things that required cutting. He had skinned an animal with it after misplacing his knife. He had reduced a fallen tree to firewood. He had foraged, carved and slain Zith with it, and to be without it would feel as exposing as being without his javelins.

Maybe he could bring home some firewood as well. The yvas bags always had plenty of rope for the purpose of securing things; a small bundle surely wouldn’t be too difficult.

But now he had cattails to focus on. Shahar put the thoughts of firewood away for when this task was finished.

[Colt]

Shahar had often heard cattails described as “Caiyha’s mercies,” mostly by those more theatrical hunters who wanted to wax poetic to young proteges, but there was some grain of truth to the name; cattails were a food source in all seasons of the year, could be made into baskets, tarps, even shelter if one was truly desperate, and to find some also meant finding water. It was not unreasonable to be able to base one’s entire survival in the wild around cattails, provided one did not overuse them. Like everything, cattail had its limits, and an uprooted stalk would not grow the next year.

With this in mind, Shahar was not blind in his ministrations. He began on the outside, taking a stalk or two from here, then two more from over there, staggering his bounty as much as he could. He would twist the stalk in the mud first, pushing it back and forth to loosen it before bracing a foot and hauling it up. Usually his sheer strength was enough to pull the thing free, especially when he used his back and weigh more than his arms, although there was more than one stalk that he took a bad hold on and only came away with the top blades of the plant and left the rest of it in the ground. But those instances weren’t frequent, and after the first few times he realized the problem and began to grip at the base, a hand’s-length above the ground. That virtually eliminated his failures, and the rest of the task was left to his muscles.

He’d taken about one quarter of the cattails on the edge before he felt uncomfortable taking more, and then he went deeper into the stand. He had seven uprooted cattails, most of them with fuzzy seed-heads intact. Maybe Naiya would like to stuff something with them, but Shahar wanted at least two heads to stuff his boots with; cattail fluff did wonders to ward off the cold, and winter was coming.

He cursed as a patch of what he thought was land revealed itself to be nothing more than dead plants layered over one another, plunging his foot into cold water that soaked between the seams almost immediately. The hunter retreated to dryer land, but the damage had already been done; not only was his shoe unbelievable cold, it would take an hour of working over the leather with his fingers after it dried to drive away the stiffness.

He finished the rest of his foraging quickly, wanting an even ten stalks to bring home. He tried to continue his method of spreading out his take, but his desire for speek made the rest of his work a bit more condensed than he would have liked it to be. Still, when he had ten stalks he was done and he took no more, leaving the stand and depositing the new three in the pile of the others. Then he set about to braiding the stems together to better carry them when they went home; it wasn’t easy, and the result of laying one over another over another certainly wasn’t pretty, but it would work. The ten would be secured together, and then there would just be one massive tangle to hold instead of ten different ones.

At least, that was the plan; Shahar hadn’t even gotten halfway through before Snow called out to him, asking for help, calm, controlled, hunting.

Shahar paused, judging the distance; she wasn’t far, just out of sight behind a particularly slanted tree leaning over the water. What is, willing to help.

Quiet, cautious, need distraction.

Shahar sighed and lay down his cattails, wiping the dirt off his hands and standing. Coming.