[Flashback] Proper Socializing with Wolves [Fadri]

[Chanuah]

20th Day of Fall, 508AV A lone hunter pulled himself to the top of a sand formation in the Burning Lands, shielding his eyes from the high sun beating down on his back. His hair was bound in twin braids, laden with feathers and beads, and chalky white clay was painted across his face: A long stripe across his eyes, and two smaller ones on either cheek. He searched his surroundings, scanning with a practiced eye, and feeling the air with his hands spread. Chanuah could clearly see the glittering city of Ahnatep in the distance. He was on an exceptionally long hunting trip this time, he had been out for three days now, and he was running low on water. He set off down the slope of the hill, keeping his hands out. He crested the next dune, hands out like some sort of undead, feeling the air shift and turn like it was a current of water, but he sensed no movement. What he saw in the distance, however, made his heart flutter with relief and his dry, cracked mouth water once more. Perhaps two or three large dunes away was an oasis, far enough from Ahnatep that the self-righteous Eypharians were not exercising control from it. A slim smile found itself across the normally solemn man’s lips, and in his mind he was already released from his fatigue. Chanuah started towards the Oasis, mouth moist, his eyes fixed on the water’s surface. He crossed the last dune and settled down under one of the three trees growing at the water’s edge. He scooped water into his mouth with both hands, slurping like a dog, until he had his full a few minutes later. He unstopped his water-skin and dipped it beneath the water’s surface, allowing the vital life-source to flood the container. Once, filled, he stopped it once more and hung it again from his belt. Chanuah then removed his heavy pack, sighing with relief at the sudden lightness he felt. He removed his quiver and Soothsayer as well, laying them up against the pack while he reclined against the trunk of the tree, relishing the shade. It had been a long hunt, and he had tracked long and hard across the desert. He felt that he at least deserved a short reprieve from the rigors of desert travel. As Chanuah sat there, resting in the merciful shade of the tree, his keen ears picked up a quiet shuffling sound, that of shifting sand. His hand flew to his belt, where both his Tomahawk, Bitterthorn, and his hunting knife were sheathed. His hand subconsciously chose tomahawk, and he waited, staring wide-eyed over the crest of a dune. Slowly, cautiously, a pair of dark eyes poked over the top. Then a sandy-colored head, then soon the whole body of a Desert Cow reached the peak of the dune and shambled down, cautiously, towards the water. Chanuah examined it closely: the cow was all skin and bone, with little muscle to it’s frame, and it’s snout was graying. It may not look like much, but this cow was a survivor. The gods must have certainly smiled upon the beast, and as it warily lapped at the water’s surface, Chanuah let it be. It’s meager flesh would not be a very beneficial addition to his tribe’s stock of food, anyways.

[Fadri Bohdan]

He had been contemplating somehow fixing himself up with fake arms. Maybe if he got the right clothes, he'd somehow be able to at least make it look like they were there. He hated the ridiculousness of being only half Eypharian. He cursed his mother for her short-sightedness in breeding with his father. The very least she could have done was marry one of her own kind. Had she not considered the impact that such a breeding would have on her future children? He knew of a place, an oasis, where he went regularly to train himself. He liked being alone then, for he could make mistakes and not worry about the eyes that might see them. It allowed for him to better train himself. He carried with him water, as always, so that he would not find himself half-dehydrated by the end of the day. He sat, rather easily, upon the back of his horse, and pondered to himself whether or not it would be wise to leave the glittering city of Ahnatep in the future. He knew there was little hope in finding a wife of higher class here, and he did not intend to stay degraded forever. When he came to this oasis, however, he discovered that he was not alone. Another was there. A Chaktawe. His thin, fine brows furrowed, and he lowered the wide, black hood that hid most of his gilded skin. His full lips drew into a line, and he tilted his head curiously. "Ouhatsh mbrings you here, Chaktshawe?"* He asked, his accent heavy. But his icy eyes showed that he was genuinely curious as to why he was here. Translation* : I'll be providing translations for his accent. Unless you can pick it out. Let me know. XD "What brings you here, Chaktawe?"