2 Spring 513 AV
It was late by the time S’hazende had gotten back to the campsite. His muscles were sore and his legs had given out a few metres from the tents. He fell back against the earth and stared at the body of the dog that had attempted to take his life. His sides and right arm were littered with scratches and teeth marks that he would probably have to wear for the next two weeks. They didn’t hurt much, though he knew they were there, the dull sting constantly on the back of his mind.
The sun had dipped low in the sky, shooting an array of warm colours across the clouds, giving them a romantic orange glow. The young Kelvic lay back against the earth to watch the clouds float overhead. White specks hidden in the backdrop high above that looked like the beginning of stars, though he couldn’t be sure and as the day dwindled and slowly evaporated before his eyes, the camp was alive with a new light; that of lamps and burning oils. A short Drykas woman approached the resting male and held out a small water-skin to him. “Redwing,” she smiled and he watched her for a few seconds.
“Redwing?” He questioned the woman and she smiled again.
“Your arms, they are painted red.”
A timely observation he thought. “I killed the dog,” S’hazende pointed. “It attacked me.”
“Redwing,” the woman nodded and gestured to the water-skin as if to encourage the young Kelvic to drink from it. She spoke common, which made it easier for S’hazende to talk with her.
He took a sip of the water and suddenly realised how thirsty he was. The young man began to gulp the water down, scarcely slowing to take a breath. “Easy,” the woman said and took the water-skin from him. “Wash yourself or your wounds might become infected.”
He poured some water onto his cloak which he untied from around the dead dogs backs legs, then used the corner of the wet cloak to rinse his arms and face. “Thank you,” S’hazende said as he finished cleaning up.
“You should never go out scouting alone, did your parents teach you nothing?”
S’hazende sat cross-legged and looked up at the woman who was slowly crouching before him. “I know… Only I saw something today, some birds circling in the sky. I wanted to find out what had brought them there.”
The woman tipped her head to one side as if contemplating his words. “It was unwise, young one, to walk the grasslands alone. Our survival is due to our numbers, if we lost you today and face danger tomorrow, you may not have only wasted one life, but two, maybe more.”
S’hazende bowed his head in shame, she was right; he had not only put himself in danger but the entire tribe. ‘I’m sorry,” he murmured, shame weighing on his shoulders heavily, his whole body riddled with the uncomfortable feeling that seemed to be settling in for the night, perhaps even for the rest of the week.
“I won’t tell anyone,” she offered some solace with her words, but it did little to ease the boy’s burden. “Come, Redwing, it is late, you need rest.”
S’hazende shook his head and pointed to the dog’s lifeless form at his side. “I want to skin the dog, I want to learn how,” he admitted, not wanting the pelt to go to waste, not when he thought he could put it to good use. The spring days were growing warmer, but the nights were still just as cold as they had seemed to feel in winter; his bones didn’t feel as if they had defrosted yet.
The woman nodded and walked away to disappear behind the nearest tent. S’hazende watched her go and then frowned, he was hoping she might help him, but understood that it was getting late and that the camp didn’t like to burn their lamps too late into the evening. It would be unwise and may attract unwanted attention, not only from wild animals or passing roamers, but bugs, thousands and thousands of bugs. The young Kelvic rubbed his arms just thinking about them and reminded himself that he should probably wrap up well before turning in this night.
The Drykas woman returned a few minutes later with a stick and some rope. She closed the thick stick that looked a lot like a rustic stake between the dog’s teeth before tying its mouth shut. She then used the rest of the rope to loop about the animal’s back legs and fastened a second knot. “Lift him up, Redwing,” she commanded and S’hazende got to his feet quickly, pulling the heavy animal up by its back legs, holding onto the rope as tightly as he could.
“Hang him up over here,” she waved to a makeshift timber frame the Drykas used to hang game and dry out meat. “He will still be here by morning, his pelt might be a bit harder to remove, but at least you can get some sleep.”
S’hazende smiled; they really had been rather kind to him, even in his stupidity and utter foolishness. He looped the rope over the frame and pulled hard until the dog was off the ground. The woman helped him tie a secure knot and then they both stepped back. She rubbed the boy’s shoulder and patted his hair down before speaking again. “I will send Ra’eesah to see you come morning, she is learning the land and might know a few plants that will soothe your wounds.”
The young man looked at his right arm and sides, sure that he would be okay with or without the plant matter. He had been scratched up before, perhaps not by a dog, but it was nothing he was sure wouldn’t heal itself. “I’ll be fine,” he waved a hand dismissively and collected his cloak.
“She can help you skin that dog,” the Drykas woman smiled and walked by the boy. “Goodnight, young one.”
“Goodnight,” S’hazende smiled and headed down to the tent he had been permitted to sleep in by the family he was hired to help, not for coin that was, but lodging and knowledge and hopefully safe passage to the City of Tents. He lay down on one of the skins and pulled his cloak over his body, shifting his limbs so that they were tucked closely to his form which he hoped would keep him warm. As the boy drifted slowly into the realm of dreams, he thought about the dog and relived his first day with the people of the Opal Clan, wandering what tomorrow would bring.