Spring 70, 517 AV Evening ‘Fildred’s called for a three day halt!’ The young scout caught up with her, plainly exhausted but exuberant and no longer cautious about approaching the large feline – at least the one wearing the pack. ‘We’ve been ordered to set up guard lines and secure the area before our patrol is released till our next shift tomorrow afternoon. Three days! Whoop!” He joyfully lopes off to spread word down the line. The caravan had been pushing hard to make distance and in her mind a break was long overdue. She’d been pushing hard too by feel of the hot spots burning her pads where the coarse flesh was wearing thin; but so far, thankfully, no blood spotting her prints. When had she ever worked this hard? Running perimeters, investigating up and down game trails and the occasional cart paths. She was quicker than the other scouts and, being mostly silent and unseen, she was often a messenger. Other than trailing the slowest wagons trying to encourage the cart beasts to a quicker clip and keeping an eye on Oleander and his little donkey, this trip felt almost like a job. And one she would do well, ensuring her friends were safe and earning the Mizas that would be needed to keep the frugal lifestyle she would be living in the next town. Hopefully the next few days of rest and friends would help her feel like just another traveler. She was pleased at how much lusher the trail had become; and when the caravan finally came to a rest near the large pond, her moral lifted considerably along with her steps. Fresh vibrant scents tickled along quivering whiskers as she trotted past unhitched wagons and carriages. Spotting her pack setting ready near Karyk’s rig, black lips pull back showing many teeth as she ‘smiles’ at his thoughtfulness. They hadn’t spoken and she’d seen him rarely over days, which left her feeling something missing. And it didn’t appear he was around now. The animals were loosely staked farther out grazing, standing hipshot or laying down. For once her presence in this form hardly agitated them in their weariness and only the nearest felt inclined to low, whinny, or bray warning. Many tents were pitched and by the smells wafting from campfires dinner was well underway. Her mouth watered tantalized with the scents of fresh fish and red meat cooking even with the lingering taste of a pretty songbird on her tongue. But her destination was without question. The Lake. There were a few families and individuals lingering near but it seemed most had already enjoyed themselves and left. The banks and water several feet in were churned to mud but beyond the shallows the water was beautifully clear and welcoming. Pausing at the grass line, Salara grasps a cord on her pack between her teeth that would allow her to loosen its straps to wriggle from it. Without further hesitation she leaps into the air kicking up sheets of sand in her wake. Just at the edge of the water she bounds long and clears the shallows with a massive splash. Below the surface, waters sparkle and shine drawing a school of curious little minnows darting in expecting something of substance. Salara’s wet matted head soon breaks the surface several feet beyond her submersion. Gasping in pleasure to find the water just perfect for swimming and more so for a long reviving soak; but it was getting late and she had no time. Moving back into the shallows she begins diligently scrubbing every last inch of herself with sand. She knew there were plants that could be crushed to make a frothy type of soap but she would have to ask Oleander or Hortense to show them to her. It takes longer yet to untangle the knots and clean her hair, but finally she feels almost human again. Wading out of the water she shivers her body furiously to shed the water - not nearly as effective in this form - but oh well, and dresses in blouse and breeches. Returning barefoot to the carriage hoping to spy Karyk, she picks up her travel pack. Maybe tonight she would be able to figure out how to set up the dratted tent. Not that she was complaining because she was comfortable sleeping under the stars in the wild. Her view upon waking was never the same twice. When she wasn’t napping in the carriage she’d slept in the crook of trees, curled into hollows logs, or under a stony cliff edge, and a time or two under the carriage. It only seemed right to do so as she would be most likely woken and able to sound alarm if anything approached her resting site from beyond the caravan. But since they had a few days it would surely be nice to sleep more civilized. Hauling her pack a little farther out than any others for said reason and that being around too many people made her uncomfortable she soon finds a level grassy spot high enough that rain or runoff wouldn’t soak her unexpectedly and shaded by a young maple strong enough not to drop a crushing branch. Shaking the canvas loose and aligning the poles, stakes and rope she eyeballs them critically. If she puts this pole this way and that pole that way, her tongue soon protrudes in concentration, then she should be able to lift it like this…and it collapses beneath her. Trying again, this time she loops the rope to a pole end and wraps the other end around the tree trunk to hold the pole in place. Holding the canvas taught she scootches her way along it’s length to the other pole. While she holds it tight everything looks proper but as soon as her grip loosens it topples again. “Petch. No wonder I sleep in the woods.” Breathing hard and becoming increasingly frustrated she figures it’s high time to swallow her pride and go find help. When she finally finds Karyk, feeling awkward in approaching him after so many days, the tips of her ears begin to heat; but with a solid swallow moistening her mouth she surprises herself with a more natural greeting than she expected, “Good travels, Karyk. We’ve made good time. If you aren’t busy would you mind if I borrowed you for a bit? I’m trying to figure out how to pitch a tent and I swear one pole must be shorter than the other because it just isn’t working for me.” |