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15th Fall 517AV
one bell after dawn: fringes of Endrykas
Wymez was tired.
There had been a time where he could think of nothing more than to be back in Endrykas - to be back with his people. Yet now, here, surrounded by familiar faces, he felt skittish and out of place - a stranger in his own home. Despite everyone's gentle gestures and warm welcomes, he felt a strange reluctance, a resistance to truly being 'back', and he simply couldn't shake it. Everything felt too surreal.
So he busied himself. It was an old go-to solution of his to keep himself too occupied to interact with anyone - let alone think - and so far it had worked. He didn't want the questions or the stares or the awkward attempts at normalcy by well-meaning pavillion members. He didn't want to think about the empty spots in his tent where his wife and daughter had been. In the end, he was slowly realising he didn't want to be here - the one place he so desperately wanted to be not even a month ago - and it made him ache. In the end, he didn't know what he wanted, who he was or why he was even still alive and that's what killed him the most.
So he disappeared - time and time again, avoiding everything and facing nothing and allowing the problems to pile up. So, he kept making himself rise at first light, organise his things and then either drift off into the Sea of Grass to check his traps or reset them or hide away at the Threaded Hide or his own makeshift tannery and shut out the world as he engrossed himself in his tanning and leatherworking. Anything to keep himself busy, keep his hands moving and mind occupied.
This morning was no different, even though the strain from his constant avoidance was beginning to show. His attention moved over the items he had laid out - rope for trapping, his pack, game knife, hatchet, compass, ratios, water pack and his flint and steel - and he carefully went about packing everything away. Once dressed, he slung his pack over a shoulder and stepped out of his tent, ready to find his strider and get on with his routine.
The air had cooled over night yet still held too much warmth. The spread of vermilion, orange, reds and golds along the horizon played hide and seek around long, thin, low hanging clouds and Wymez had little doubt that Syna's light would burn them up quickly once She rose higher into the sky. And, yet, the air seemed to cling to him, hinting that the opposite could very well be true.
He blew a whistle and watched as old Varras came plodding towards him, tail held high and flicking as the stallion gave a nicker in greeting. Wymez was quick to get the horse's yvas in place, securing the implement with careful fingers before finally adding his blanket, tarp and spear. He then heaved himself up onto the grulla stallion and settled in to his seat, giving the stallion's neck a solid couple of pats before finally swaying forward as he clicked his tongue to signal to the horse to be on his way.
There had been a time where he could think of nothing more than to be back in Endrykas - to be back with his people. Yet now, here, surrounded by familiar faces, he felt skittish and out of place - a stranger in his own home. Despite everyone's gentle gestures and warm welcomes, he felt a strange reluctance, a resistance to truly being 'back', and he simply couldn't shake it. Everything felt too surreal.
So he busied himself. It was an old go-to solution of his to keep himself too occupied to interact with anyone - let alone think - and so far it had worked. He didn't want the questions or the stares or the awkward attempts at normalcy by well-meaning pavillion members. He didn't want to think about the empty spots in his tent where his wife and daughter had been. In the end, he was slowly realising he didn't want to be here - the one place he so desperately wanted to be not even a month ago - and it made him ache. In the end, he didn't know what he wanted, who he was or why he was even still alive and that's what killed him the most.
So he disappeared - time and time again, avoiding everything and facing nothing and allowing the problems to pile up. So, he kept making himself rise at first light, organise his things and then either drift off into the Sea of Grass to check his traps or reset them or hide away at the Threaded Hide or his own makeshift tannery and shut out the world as he engrossed himself in his tanning and leatherworking. Anything to keep himself busy, keep his hands moving and mind occupied.
This morning was no different, even though the strain from his constant avoidance was beginning to show. His attention moved over the items he had laid out - rope for trapping, his pack, game knife, hatchet, compass, ratios, water pack and his flint and steel - and he carefully went about packing everything away. Once dressed, he slung his pack over a shoulder and stepped out of his tent, ready to find his strider and get on with his routine.
The air had cooled over night yet still held too much warmth. The spread of vermilion, orange, reds and golds along the horizon played hide and seek around long, thin, low hanging clouds and Wymez had little doubt that Syna's light would burn them up quickly once She rose higher into the sky. And, yet, the air seemed to cling to him, hinting that the opposite could very well be true.
He blew a whistle and watched as old Varras came plodding towards him, tail held high and flicking as the stallion gave a nicker in greeting. Wymez was quick to get the horse's yvas in place, securing the implement with careful fingers before finally adding his blanket, tarp and spear. He then heaved himself up onto the grulla stallion and settled in to his seat, giving the stallion's neck a solid couple of pats before finally swaying forward as he clicked his tongue to signal to the horse to be on his way.
just after the ninth bell: Sea of Grass
It had been a long and tedious morning filled with frustration as his first, second and third traps came up empty or ruined. He had retrieved the remnants of whatever bits of rope and twigs had remained so he could reuse them, pausing at each site to try and get an idea of where he had gone wrong. It simply seemed his prey was far more clever than he gave credit and had simply outmanoeuvred him.
Pushing on, he remounted Varras and gave the stallion a nudge, urging the horse onward at an easy trot towards the next trap site. He had left small stacks of stones at intervals when he had been out the previous day setting up his traps, coating some in ash to make them marginally more visible, and he followed the trail for another handful of chimes until he reached the patch of thorny shrubs that signalled his final trap site.
He slowed his mount and then slid down from his horse's back to the dry earth once the stallion came to a stop, hands motioning a sign for the strider to stay as he began to move as quietly and cautiously as he could towards the site. However, upon reaching it, he realised it was another dud morning for him so he gathered up his things, mounted his horse and started turning back in.
He had been too focused on his misfortune to have noticed that the clouds had gradually thickened overhead, darkening over the last few bells. It was only as he heard the rumble of distant thunder that he became aware and felt the urgency to seek shelter.
He was still far enough out from Endrykas to risk pushing Varras to get back before the storm inevitably hit so his eyes began seeking out potential places to wait it out, scanning over the rolling grassland before him, searching for some form of break in the earth, some rocky crevice or copse of trees where he could set up some form of temporary shelter. Pushing his heels back to urge Varras into a quicker stride, he angled the horse towards the southwest just as the rain began to fall.
He spotted the crack not even a tick before Varras reached it, a thin, crumbling line racing out to the edge of a rocky outcrop, widening at the end to form a small opening. Wymez brought Varras to a halt and dismounted, spear in hand, and ventured forward to investigate. Giving the rocks surrounding the small opening a good solid series of taps, he watched as bits of rock and dirt went tumbling yet, overall, the area remained sound and secure. Doing his best to ignore the light patter of rain, he clamoured down along the edge of the outcrop, dropping to the base so he could further inspect the shallow cave-like opening. It would be snug but it would do.
With great effort, he managed to climb back up over the outcrop and returned to his horse, hand reaching to take hold of a side of the yvas as he motioned for the stallion to follow. He lead the horse down to the shallow cavern - having to meander a ways off course to find an easier way for the horse to reach the area - and then removed his blanket and tarp, ready to try and cobble together some for of temporary shelter.
Leaving his pack, blanket and spear within the cavern, he tucked the tarp under an arm and made his way back to the top of the outcrop and began laying the tarp out over the long crack-like crevice in the ground. He knew it would be a poor attempt but he figured it would be better than nothing. Placing rocks atop the tarp to hold it down, he then dropped back down to the base and gave his makeshift roof a look over before deeming it passable. Eventually, he climbed back into his snug cavern, ready to wait things out.
Pushing on, he remounted Varras and gave the stallion a nudge, urging the horse onward at an easy trot towards the next trap site. He had left small stacks of stones at intervals when he had been out the previous day setting up his traps, coating some in ash to make them marginally more visible, and he followed the trail for another handful of chimes until he reached the patch of thorny shrubs that signalled his final trap site.
He slowed his mount and then slid down from his horse's back to the dry earth once the stallion came to a stop, hands motioning a sign for the strider to stay as he began to move as quietly and cautiously as he could towards the site. However, upon reaching it, he realised it was another dud morning for him so he gathered up his things, mounted his horse and started turning back in.
He had been too focused on his misfortune to have noticed that the clouds had gradually thickened overhead, darkening over the last few bells. It was only as he heard the rumble of distant thunder that he became aware and felt the urgency to seek shelter.
He was still far enough out from Endrykas to risk pushing Varras to get back before the storm inevitably hit so his eyes began seeking out potential places to wait it out, scanning over the rolling grassland before him, searching for some form of break in the earth, some rocky crevice or copse of trees where he could set up some form of temporary shelter. Pushing his heels back to urge Varras into a quicker stride, he angled the horse towards the southwest just as the rain began to fall.
He spotted the crack not even a tick before Varras reached it, a thin, crumbling line racing out to the edge of a rocky outcrop, widening at the end to form a small opening. Wymez brought Varras to a halt and dismounted, spear in hand, and ventured forward to investigate. Giving the rocks surrounding the small opening a good solid series of taps, he watched as bits of rock and dirt went tumbling yet, overall, the area remained sound and secure. Doing his best to ignore the light patter of rain, he clamoured down along the edge of the outcrop, dropping to the base so he could further inspect the shallow cave-like opening. It would be snug but it would do.
With great effort, he managed to climb back up over the outcrop and returned to his horse, hand reaching to take hold of a side of the yvas as he motioned for the stallion to follow. He lead the horse down to the shallow cavern - having to meander a ways off course to find an easier way for the horse to reach the area - and then removed his blanket and tarp, ready to try and cobble together some for of temporary shelter.
Leaving his pack, blanket and spear within the cavern, he tucked the tarp under an arm and made his way back to the top of the outcrop and began laying the tarp out over the long crack-like crevice in the ground. He knew it would be a poor attempt but he figured it would be better than nothing. Placing rocks atop the tarp to hold it down, he then dropped back down to the base and gave his makeshift roof a look over before deeming it passable. Eventually, he climbed back into his snug cavern, ready to wait things out.
1225
| Pavi | Grassland Sign | Common |
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