The Black Bay, Part 1 (Solo)

[Colt]

8th of Winter, 511 AV It was a pleasant day, at least for the winter. It was mid-morning, and the sun had just finished up melting the previous night’s frost and warming the world with her breath. Many of the animals of the grasslands were taking advantage of this development, so the land was unusually active. Khasr was taking advantage of the warmth as well. After all, while he may spend a great deal of time hunting he wasn’t above stopping once in awhile to smell the roses. He sat on the crest of a small rise, leaning against a boulder with his javelins within arm’s reach, yet not actually on his person. He listened to the calls of grassbirds, the roar of the wind over the plains, and maybe, if he concentrated and used a bit of imagination, he could hear the great song that was woven of it. Though he had no pressing business within the Sea of Grass, he nevertheless was there. He had grown up here, not in a pavilion. Too much noise made him ill, and he became nervous whenever he could not see the horizon, so times like this were dear to him. It was easy to lose himself in the land, easy to just listen. And it was because he was listening that he heard the beat of footfalls. He opened his eyes and broke his unwitting trance, and immediately lost it. But he knew he had heard something. Probably. He snatched his javelins, equipment, and rolled to his feet in one motion. He licked a finger to test the wind and found out, not surprisingly, which direction the wind was blowing. It didn’t do him a lick of good, though, and after deciding that the information was rather useless he set off in the direction he had heard the noise from. After five minutes he hadn’t picked up a single trace of the noise or anything that might have made it. He frowned. Maybe he had imagined it after all. Sighing, he turned back to go nowhere in particular when he heard it again, the faint thump of foot—no, hoofbeats. He turned back around and set off in the direction he had heard it from. The farther he went, the more frequent and clear the beats became.

[Colt]

Khasr knelt and examined the ground. He had come across the trail of a large herd of large animals, and from their freshness he was quite close. The path was incredibly easy, and he was searching for a place with a clear enough surface to find a track. Moving quickly, he scanned everything as he passed, taking in the bent stalks, trampled plants, until he came to a patch of earth with the imprint of a ring-shaped hoof firmly imprinted upon it. Horses. He had found a herd of horses. He looked back up to the trail, a deep excitement boiling in his chest. He continued on, keeping himself low and looking for a vantage point. He found none, and his attention was refocused on where he was going when he saw light announce the end of the grass. He left the path and knelt down at the edge, settling into what he hoped was a good hiding spot and looking out eagerly.

[Colt]

The grass fell away as the land dipped into a shallow valley, and Khasr pouted when he realized he couldn’t see over the lip. Frowning, he crawled into the open and wriggled to a spot where he actually could see, and caught his breath. They were scattered around the valley, some grazing and some sleeping and some just standing. There could have easily been twenty of them. Khasr let out his breath slowly, feeling a stir within, the heat of sudden want and regret. He suddenly felt blessed to be there, to see what he was seeing. Wild striders were a rare thing indeed. Suddenly, he felt a vibration from the ground, and he immediately looked around to see where it was coming from. He sat up as he began to hear it with his ears, and after a few moments decided that it was coming from the grass. It got louder, and something clicked into place, giving Khasr a few seconds to bolt as the herd’s bachelors exploded forth. He heard them thunder behind him, then heard neighs of surprise and muddled steps as they abruptly changed course and moved away from the fleeing two-leg. He slowed to a stop and doubled over, hands on his knees and puffing. He wasn’t used to sprinting while carrying everything he owned, and when his breath returned, he cautiously looked behind him. There were perhaps seven of them—young stallions that followed the herd, looking to snatch a mare and start their own. They pranced twenty yards away, unsure what to make of the strange creature. Nickering among each other, they watched him for a long while, until finally a sooty buckskin took an inquisitive step towards him. Immediately, a massive black bay burst forward and bit the buckskin viciously on the neck, causing more chaos to erupt within their numbers. They milled as the buckskin snorted and shied, much more interested in that spectacle than Khasr. The two horses danced around each other until the buckskin decided that he had pressing business elsewhere, and took off at a healthy gallop across the rise. The rest of them followed, the black bay remaining long enough to soot Khasr a look that could boil water before running after. The hunter let out an explosive breath and sank to the ground, drained yet exhilarated. He looked into the sky, and knew that he wouldn’t be returning to Endrykas anytime soon.

[Colt]

High noon was comfortably warm as Khasr set up a loose base quite nearby to the herd. He cleared an area for a tent and hearth, but didn’t set them up, knowing that it could move at any time. They didn’t seem like they would, and he wanted to be ready for either occurrence. Once he made sure everything was safe he headed back towards the valley. They were still there, and he took time to check that he was the only occupant of the lip of the valley before venturing to it and seating himself. A few of the closer horses raised their heads to look at him, but soon lost interest when he did nothing else. It was a fairly large valley, and would probably take an unburdened horse a minute or so to cross at full gallop. A small waterfall at the southeast end turned into a stream, which in turn became a pond in the center of the valley. The horses were peppered around, most staying close to the pond but three or so grazing at the fringes. Khasr found himself looking for the bachelor herd, but it was absent.

[Colt]

The sun was setting, and the herd didn’t seem to have any intention of moving, so Khasr returned to his base to set up camp. There were twenty-one horses in all. The lead mare was a middle-aged paint while the lead stallion was an old gray dun. The mare was one of the most unflappable horses Khasr had ever seen, while the stallion seemed to be one of the most irritable. He had spotted the bachelor herd once on the direct opposite side of the valley, and though he had looked for the black bay or sooty buckskin they had simply been too far away for him to see anything more than indistinct shapes. Khasr set up his tent, eating a trail ration cold as he did it, and was in the midst of rehiding his food when he heard hoofbeats. Excited, he didn’t even grab his javelins as he slipped into the grass.

[Colt]

The trail was easier to find than it had been in the morning. He touched a print lightly with his fingers, then set off. The sun’s light was fading fast and cold was starting to set in, but the moon was almost full and gave off sufficient light to see by. He emerged once again onto the lip of the canyon just as Syna disappeared below the horizon. Several of the young stallions startled, but they were far enough away that they didn’t bolt. They were enchanting. Any mother loving Drykas knew horses were beautiful, but this was different. With the moon to help, they were doing something that only striders could do. They were all glowing, coats shimmering in the dark. He watched them with shallow breath, searching for two specific horses. The sooty buckskin was easy enough to spot, but in the meager light he couldn’t identify the black bay. He needn’t of worried. After a moment or so, a shadowy mass launched forward, neighing at Khasr threateningly. It reared and thrashed its front legs mid-stride, then returned to Semele’s skin and thundered forward. Unbidden, Khasr’s hand reached for a javelin before he could stop it but it closed around empty air. A cold shock ran through his body. He didn’t have his javelins. He didn’t have his javelins. He didn’t have his javelins. He then preformed the fatal mistake of the Sea of Grass. It was automatic death for the hunted, automatic kill for the hunter. His muscles ceased to move. He tried to run, but couldn’t. He was completely frozen, and watched with wide eyes as the charging stallion neared.

[Colt]

With a hateful scream, the stallion threw its path to the side, dodging the statue-like Drykas. The wind from its movements tousled Khasr’s hair, and it passed so close he could have reached out and touched its rippling hide. The bay slowed ten or so yards away, turning and snorting at him with the same angry, condescending gaze. Khasr and the horse looked at each other for a long time, then the massive creature sprung into a run, skirting around Khasr to the herd. They pranced about for a few seconds, then disappeared. Khasr half-choked as his knees buckled and he fell to his back, sprawled-eagled. He just lay there, looking at the starry expanse above him. He didn’t even have enough energy to tremble. It was when the air chilled him to numbness that he finally rose to his feet, stumbling back towards his camp. He ate a ration cold as he collapsed into his tent and burrowed into his bedroll. He was asleep as soon as he closed his eyes.

[Colt]

9th of Winter, 511 AV When he woke, he immediately wanted to go back to sleep. His bedroll was warm and cozy, and he could feel condensation that meant outside was cold and biting. He mumbled incoherently into his pillow and shifted, but before he could return to unconsciousness he heard footfalls, thumping resounding clearly through the ground, up his headrest, and into his ear. He was instantly wide awake, and he threw off his bedroll and jumped into his clothing, pushing his way into the crisp air. He swore softly. The sun was still down, at least mostly, and pink was starting to tint the horizon. Nothing was yet awake, nothing but Khasr and his new companion. The black bay stood near the cold hearth, watching him with a glittering eye. The drykas moved incredibly slowly, approaching the horse inch by painful inch, with eyes that could only be described as misty. The horse watched him with vague interest, the kind that accompanies the thought What in the world are you doing? If it could have raised an eyebrow, it probably would have. As soon as he came within ten feet the stallion shied, cantering around the border of the clearing. It slowed to a walk and finally a stop, then turned and looked at Khasr with a different gaze, as if sizing him up. Khasr stayed very still, breathing short and quick. “What is your name?” he whispered. The horse’s ears pricked forward and it snorted. Khasr began to move towards it again, keeping his pace snail-like, and continued. “Are you… Thunder?” The horse snarled and reared, landing in a run. Khasr tensed, but didn’t freeze. He knew he could jump out of the way. He could feel it. But… it had changed course the night before. He could see its eyes; they weren’t filled with the blazing anger that they had been before. And so Khasr simply stood, eyes wide and hands balled into fists. The horsed turned its head slightly to look Khasr in the eye, and the man saw the challenge clearly. He closed his eyes just before the collision, and heard the hoofbeats pass him. He felt the heat from its hide, smelled the scent of horse and grass. He slowly opened his eyes and turned. The horse had halted at the edge of the clearing, and turned its head to look at him once more. “No,” Khasr said, voice more than a little shaky. “You are not Thunder.” This seemed to amuse the horse, but its gaze was still hard as stone. Are you scared of me? its eyes challenged. Khasr’s eyes narrowed. “Of course I am, you bastard,” he mumbled. It snorted again, then turned and trotted into the grasses.

[Colt]

He hadn’t followed the bay. His heart hadn’t been in it. Instead, he was trekking back to the rise to check on the herd. It was still there, though it seemed to be rather active. Two horses were chasing and nipping at each other, the stallion was prancing about trying to impress whatever mares happened to be watching, and another one was just running around. The horses closest to him looked up with curiosity when he appeared on the rise, but just as yesterday they decided that he was neither food nor threat and returned to whatever they had been doing. Khasr wondered how long herds were supposed to stay somewhere before moving on. Once he decided that the group was too comfortable to be going anywhere anytime soon, Khasr began to search for a more suitable camp location. His current one had been quickly found and quickly made. It was serviceable; nothing more, and he wanted to find a good one. He carried nothing but his knife and traditional javelins, still too startled from last night’s lack of them to be letting them out of his sight anytime soon. He was keeping a healthy jog towards the east side of the valley, where the waterfall was. Water promised plants. Plants promised animals. Animals promised a good location. As soon as he came within spotting distance he saw it. It was almost too perfect; three trees hugged the cliff and hung over a dip in the ground. Still, he picked up the pace just to make sure. It was ideal. The water was running too quickly to allow any festering, various reeds flanked the shores for animals to hide in, and though the clear spot under the tree would take some work to make into a tent spot it was, all in all, a lovely location.

[Colt]

The sun was beginning to set when Khasr finished setting up his campsite. His stomach was screaming for sustenance and he was inclined to agree with its opinion, gnawing on another trail ration as he set out to forage. He sure as anything didn’t want to have the same cuisine for his whole stay. He set one trap near a rabbit path and another near a something else path, then set out to see what he could root up that wasn’t meat. He found a patch of wild onions and a tickle-tongue bush, taking a handful of leaves and popping one into his mouth as he continued his search. The sun was solidly under the horizon when he turned up a fat prickly pear cactus, and with a bit of careful handling claimed a few young pads and returned to his camp. He rooted around and gathered whatever looked like it would burn, then set about to building a fire.