Winter 77, 516 AV
dawn
The clouds were a sign.
A very, very bad sign.
Khida had set forth in the half-light before dawn, Sephra brushed down and tacked up and turned towards the hills and gullies where her rider had laid traps the evening before. The first two traps had yielded the hunter nothing, an unfortunately common occurrence; the third had surrendered a mist pigeon into her hands, and the fourth a smaller breed of grouse, both scrawny with the privations of this unnatural season. Those had been set in willow thickets on either side of a single creek -- what in wetter seasons might have approached small river -- and today the Kelvic had taken the time to set four more snares in its vicinity. In the scheme of this season, two filled snares were remarkable, and she intended to gladly take advantage of the area if more game could be had from it.
It was not wise to depend upon a single source, however; no more so for a single hunter than for the city entire. And so she had continued out to check other traps. Those had proven as empty as the first... and now, in hindsight, just might have been better left alone.
Those were stormclouds billowing swift and dark across the sky, lightning flickering over their weighted bellies. That was rain falling in a shadowy veil, drawing a stark line across the depth of Khida's view. And that was the gust front whipping her hair aside, blowing forth chaff to prickle at her skin and eyes.
Fear shivered down the Kelvic's spine; she leaned low against Sephra's neck, holding tight to the yvas and urgently bidding the horse "Home. Home!"
Picking up the contagion of her rider's urgency, Sephra bolted from amble straight into canter, long strides eating up the ground. Attention focused on her mount -- it would gain her nothing to apprehensively monitor the sky -- Khida concentrated on maintaining her seat, on holding steady yet also letting herself be nudged out of the way of each of the horse's movements. On not falling above all else, for any delay could mean them being caught in the storm...
Hooves pounded over one rise and another, across a swathe of mostly level ground, and over another curve of the earth. There was the line of willows and other shrubs packed tightly into that creek's ravine. Khida straightened, letting her weight settle back; mindful of her rider's cues, the Strider slowed to a walk. They would not be able to pass that thicket at speed. Now, Khida glanced towards the looming storm, gauging the distance to the rain, the progress they'd made...
Yes, they might just make it back to the city before the stormfront did.
Khida directed the horse forward... had just a breath in which to notice a seeming reluctance in Sephra's movements, distraction in the cant of her ears... and a large crack split the air, causing the rider to jump in her seat. She only realized it wasn't lightning for the sounds which followed -- a whole torrent of crackles and snaps, underlain by a more subtle yet absolutely implacable rushing. Whitecapped brown water all but roared down the ravine before Khida's eyes, ripping through the dense foliage as if it were no sturdier than grass. Eyes gone wide, posture rigid, she sent no clear cue to her mount, yet the horse recognized their intents aligning; the Strider wheeled and trotted quickly away, putting a dozen yards more distance between them and the now-raging ravine.
There would be no crossing that.
As that realization sank into Khida's bones, the first stray drops of rain spattered her skin, vanguard of the downpour to come.
dawn
The clouds were a sign.
A very, very bad sign.
Khida had set forth in the half-light before dawn, Sephra brushed down and tacked up and turned towards the hills and gullies where her rider had laid traps the evening before. The first two traps had yielded the hunter nothing, an unfortunately common occurrence; the third had surrendered a mist pigeon into her hands, and the fourth a smaller breed of grouse, both scrawny with the privations of this unnatural season. Those had been set in willow thickets on either side of a single creek -- what in wetter seasons might have approached small river -- and today the Kelvic had taken the time to set four more snares in its vicinity. In the scheme of this season, two filled snares were remarkable, and she intended to gladly take advantage of the area if more game could be had from it.
It was not wise to depend upon a single source, however; no more so for a single hunter than for the city entire. And so she had continued out to check other traps. Those had proven as empty as the first... and now, in hindsight, just might have been better left alone.
Those were stormclouds billowing swift and dark across the sky, lightning flickering over their weighted bellies. That was rain falling in a shadowy veil, drawing a stark line across the depth of Khida's view. And that was the gust front whipping her hair aside, blowing forth chaff to prickle at her skin and eyes.
Fear shivered down the Kelvic's spine; she leaned low against Sephra's neck, holding tight to the yvas and urgently bidding the horse "Home. Home!"
Picking up the contagion of her rider's urgency, Sephra bolted from amble straight into canter, long strides eating up the ground. Attention focused on her mount -- it would gain her nothing to apprehensively monitor the sky -- Khida concentrated on maintaining her seat, on holding steady yet also letting herself be nudged out of the way of each of the horse's movements. On not falling above all else, for any delay could mean them being caught in the storm...
Hooves pounded over one rise and another, across a swathe of mostly level ground, and over another curve of the earth. There was the line of willows and other shrubs packed tightly into that creek's ravine. Khida straightened, letting her weight settle back; mindful of her rider's cues, the Strider slowed to a walk. They would not be able to pass that thicket at speed. Now, Khida glanced towards the looming storm, gauging the distance to the rain, the progress they'd made...
Yes, they might just make it back to the city before the stormfront did.
Khida directed the horse forward... had just a breath in which to notice a seeming reluctance in Sephra's movements, distraction in the cant of her ears... and a large crack split the air, causing the rider to jump in her seat. She only realized it wasn't lightning for the sounds which followed -- a whole torrent of crackles and snaps, underlain by a more subtle yet absolutely implacable rushing. Whitecapped brown water all but roared down the ravine before Khida's eyes, ripping through the dense foliage as if it were no sturdier than grass. Eyes gone wide, posture rigid, she sent no clear cue to her mount, yet the horse recognized their intents aligning; the Strider wheeled and trotted quickly away, putting a dozen yards more distance between them and the now-raging ravine.
There would be no crossing that.
As that realization sank into Khida's bones, the first stray drops of rain spattered her skin, vanguard of the downpour to come.
Khida space Common | Pavi
other space Common | Pavi
other space Common | Pavi
