Solo [Bronze Woods] Stranger Danger

[Telrin]

29th of fall, 513 a.v As a general rule, Telrin did not like unannounced guests. “Are you lost?” he asked, sliding from his horse. The person standing in the center of his camp wheeled, providing Telrin with an unhindered view of his face. He was an older man, looking to be somewhere in his forties or fifties, and his clothing was patched and ragged. A thick beard scraggled well past his collar, and graying hair was tied back into a scruffy ponytail. The man eased somewhat when he saw that the voice had come from a child, but a degree of wariness remained in his eyes. “No, just travelin’,” he said, gesturing to the pack at his feet. “I saw y’camp and came over to see who’s here. Is this all…” he looked around, then back at Telrin, obviously wondering if it could truly belong to such a young person. “... yours?” “Yes.” Telrin crossed his arms, gaze hard and challenging. “Easy,” the man said, raising his hands in peace. “I ain’t here to trouble y’none. This y’camp, then it’s y’own business. An’ I don’t make a habit of stickin’ my nose int’other people’s business.” Telrin looked at the man for a few more silent moments, taking note of his lack of weapons before deciding that he was probably not a threat. The boy turned to his mare and pulled the day’s hunt from her withers. A hare and a possum wasn’t bad, but it was the deer that had really made the day successful. It was a yearling buck just onto its first set of antlers, not a trophy by any hunter’s standards, but its hide was healthy and would surely fetch a good miza. “Y’bring that down y’self?” “No, it was my horse.” A snort. “That’s one skilled horse y’have, then. Name’s Blue Jack.” “Telrin.” “Well, Telrin, would’ja mind terribly if I set my tent up hereabouts?” Talrin raised his eyes from the stag curiously. “Just for th’night, mind you,” Bluejack iterated. “M’travelin’, s’all, an’ seein’ as th’sun’s gettin’ ready to bed down I figure I’d better do th’same.” Telrin shrugged. “If you wish.” Bluejack smiled, tipping his raggedy hat. “Thank y’kindly.”

[Telrin]

As the man set about to setting up whatever he was setting up, Telrin returned his attention to his kills. He had slain the possum that morning when he discovered it sniffing around in his saddlebags, and as the day had passed it had stiffened. It was difficult to move it through rigor mortis, which would make skinning the thing difficult. Probably best for him to keep this one, and possibly the hare, while he could bring the deer to market in the morning. With that decided, the boy wrapped the deer up in his tarp and moved it inside his tent, where neither flies nor scavengers would have access to it. The hare and possum he took to the hearth in the center of his camp, sitting himself cross-legged and placing the latter in front of him. The boy turned the possum onto its back, examining its stomach for the best place to go about cutting. He had watched others skin kills before, and had sometimes listened to hunters lamenting having to do such work themselves, but had never actually done it on his own. All he knew was that one was supposed to make a cut on the stomach from one end to the other, then somehow wrangle the pelt off from there. Making the cut itself was easy enough, though Telrin had to stare for a few moments to decide where to go next. He tugged experimentally at the slit on the neck, and though it moved it didn’t really come off. After another few moments of deliberation Telrin decided to make another cut, this one all the way around the neck. This made it considerably easier to dislodge the pelt, which was loose and not very attached to the meat anyway. He pulled off about two inches before he came to the front legs. Like the neck, the skin was wrapped tightly around the limbs so that it couldn’t be removed. Telrin made another cut halfway down one leg, then completely around it. Again, like the neck, this made the pelt fairly easy to peel off. He did the same to the other leg, separating the entire thing almost halfway from the carcass. The hind legs were a bit more difficult, as they were shaped differently, and the boy accidentally cut too deep into one and snapped the foot clean off. Nevertheless, he managed to work the pelt free of the carcass, and opted to just cut off the tail entirely instead of trying to skin that.

[Telrin]

With the skinning finished, Telrin set about to cracking the possum’s skull to get at its brain. He peeled back bits of bone and had just put the brain in the cast-iron pot by the hearth when the grating voice of Blue Jack drifted from behind him. “That a possum?” Telrin wheeled in surprise at the man’s proximity, and he stepped back and raised his hands peacefully for the second time that day. “Easy, there, easy,” he said. “Just curious, s’all.” Blue Jack took another step back, and Telrin took a breath. “Yes,” he said after a few moments. “A possum.” “Y’got any specific plans for it?” “Eating it. Why?” Blue Jack shrugged, a half-smile on his face. “Oh, nothin’ much. My ma, she used’t make th’best roasted possum ever there was. Taught me how’ta, too, a’fore she passed on.” A small silence stretched between them before Telrin decided to break it. “I do not cook well,” he admitted. “I burn it or merely sear it, no matter what I am cooking. Except crawfish. Boiling is easy, but possum does not turn out well.” “Well then,” Blue Jack said with a smile. “Howsabout this; y’let me cook that there possum an’ then we split it? An’ I can teach y’ta do it y’self.” Telrin looked at the possum uneasily. He was leery of giving it up to a stranger, but the man had already set up his tent, so he probably was not going anywhere. And Telrin really didn’t have any ability to cook as much as he had the ability to just make something safe to eat, so if what the man said was true… “... alright,” Telrin finally said, handing the man the carcass. “Do as you will.”

[Telrin]

Telrin stirred the fire to life with one of his arrows, taking a handful of his kindling pile and dropping it into the embers. They flared brightly, and Telrin added a few twigs. When those caught, he gently placed an array of broken sticks above them, until those, too, were burning. “Blue Jack,” he said, catching the man’s attention. “Hand me a branch from the pile next to you.” He took a moment to locate the pile in question and to disentangle one of the branches, but handed it over without protest. Telrin snapped off the fronds and dropped them into the hearth, and when the core was bare he snapped it in half and placed it on top. As that began to smoulder, he stood and walked to the pile himself. The thicker woodstuff was kept on the bottom, forcing Telrin to squat to remove it, but with a few thicker limbs and some care the embers had become a fire once more. The young hunter emptied his waterskin into the pot and hung the brain over the fire to boil. Blue Jack had taken up a hum in a wandering tune Telrin could neither recognize or even really follow, but it was not altogether unpleasant. The old man was in the process of removing the shattered head and the tail, sinking into his work and soon turning his attention to the things’s innards. Telrin pulled his legs to his chest and rested his chin on his knees, watching him silently. His hands were gnarled and worn with age and labor, but they moved with the fluid grace of comfort and practice. He had gone through these motions many times. “Hey… Telrin, was it?” Telrin blinked to focus on the old man’s face, then hmmed. “Would y’mind whittlin’ down one o’yer sticks here? To hang th’possum?” Telrin nodded and drew his knife, gesturing at the pile. Blue Jack surveyed his options and selected a long and sturdy switch-branch, handing it to the boy around the fire so as to keep it unburned. Unhurriedly, Telren set his blade to the branch and began to carve off the twigs and bark that tried to catch and hinder. The two fell into an easy silence, each wrapped up in their own work and calmness of mind. Telrin found no pressing worries crossing his mind, no insistent thoughts that pulled his attention from the moment. He was able to lose himself in the work of his hands, to let all thoughts pass like dewdrops in a river. He needed nothing, he wanted nothing, and here, now, what he had was enough.

[Telrin]

“Here.” Telrin held the now-bare branch out to Blue Jack, who took it with a grunt of gratitude. The boy watched in curiosity as the man took a spool of leather string from his pocket and began to thread it through the holes he had made in the possum. “Y’gotta take it by th’spine,” the old man said. “Make some holes if y’don’t have a needle’r somethin’ like it. ‘Tween th’ribs, so’s y’can tie it t’yer stick good an’ tight. Leather’s best, since it don’t fall apart on ya, but if y’happen upon a spool’o sinew then that’s gonna be th’best.” He used his teeth to pull one end of the string and one hand to pull the other, tightening the carcass to the stick. He tied it off neatly, the held it up to show Telrin the empty underbelly. “Once y’gut ‘im, might be good t’spread the ribs outta little bit.” He separated the two sides slightly, filling the air with the wet sounds of snapping bones. “Like that. Gotta be careful, though, cause if’n ya do it too hard then you’ll split it clean in half.” He hung the possum on the makeshift spit, belly down, and continued to monologue. Telrin, knife back in its sheath and chin back on his knees, watched and listened with silent fascination. “Outside’s gonna be tender,” he said. “But that’s why you gotta open it. Heat’ll catch in the middle and help cook it better. Get enough smoke an’ya won’t have no need for fancy spices.” He leaned back, eyes glazing over in remembrance. “My ma, she use’ta make all kinds of wild things withis. She’d cook it with plants an’eggs, an’ once she even stuffed it fulla fruit and baked it. Better’n a Knight’s feast, t’was. I swear, she coulda made a banquet for the Dyres 'emselves outta sticks and berries if she set 'er mind t it.” He trailed off, and after a long silence he leveled his eyes at Telrin. "Not much of a talker, are ya?" The man’s voice, the fire, the darkening sky, all had coaxed Telrin into such a lull that he didn’t want to move, not even to shake his head. He managed a noncommittal hmm, eyes still fixed on the possum and the flickering lights dancing over it. He’d never hung anything over the fire but his cast iron pot before, and that was too dull for light to flicker over. “Hey, kid.” Telrin dragged his eyes back to Blue Jack. “Y’know if I’m botherin’ y’at all, y’can tell me to stop.” “You’re not,” Telrin mumbled. “Y’sure?” The boy sent him a flat stare, one that satisfied the man as much as any spoken word would have. “Well, that’s good t’know. But if that changes, y’tell me, y’hear?” Telrin’s gaze returned to the roasting possum. “I will.”

[Telrin]

With the possum cooking, Telrin eventually managed to rouse himself and take the pot from the fire. He poked the brain experimentally; it was very firm now, firm enough for him to use. Using a bit of cloth to protect his hand, the boy moved the pot to an open square of dirt and poured out half of the water. “What’cha got there?” asked Blue Jack from the other side of the fire. Telrin shrugged and continued his work silently, and eventually the old man leaned sideways to get a good view. “What’s that?” “Brain.” Blue Jack gave him a vacant look. “A brain.” “A brain.” “A brain of what?” Telrin jerked his thumb towards where the meat was cooking. “What for?” Telrin jerked his hand towards where the possum’s hide was rolled up. “Alright…” From his tone, it sounded like Blue Jack didn’t understand at all, but he didn’t press farther and Telrin didn’t volunteer anything. He had his own work to do right now. It was one of the smooth stones from the hearth that Telrin eventually chose to use, since he had gotten those from a stream and they were well-worn and warm from being so near to the fire. Unwilling to get any dirt in his brains, Telrin spent a good deal of time rubbing his hands over the stone, casting away all the dirt and ash that clung to it until it was clean enough for his needs. Then, without further ceremony, the young hunter began to mash. The brain fell beneath the stone like pudding, mixing with the warm water around it and becoming a coarse paste-like substance. It wasn’t long before the bits were too small to be affected by the stone, and when that happened Telrin wiped the brain-paste from the makeshift tool and continued with his hands. It felt rather good, squishing warm brains on a cold winter evening, and the task consumed his thoughts and set him into a pleasant lull. At least until he heard a strange noise from across the fire. Telrin glanced up at Blue Jack, who was watching him with wide eyes. He looked rather ill. “Would you please hand me that hide next to you?” Telrin asked. “The rolled-up one?” The old man looked to where Telrin gestured, and after a moment gingerly picked up what he had requested and handed it to him. Telrin took the hide gently and unrolled it, placing it fur-down over his crossed knees so that the raw side was exposed. Then he took a good handful of the new brain-mash and carefully dolloped it onto the skin, spreading it around and massaging the stuff into the hide. One handful managed a thin coating of one side, and when that was finished Telrin took another from the pot. It took about half of the entire solution to thoroughly coat the hide, and with that done Telrin put the lid back on the pot and put the pot next to the fire. That would be enough for tonight.

[Telrin]

“That was disgustin’.” Telrin couldn’t suppress a roll of his eyes as he poured water over his hands to wash them, but didn’t say anything in response. His waterskin was getting low; he would have to drink sparingly tonight if he didn’t want to fill it before morning. “Ah… looks ‘bout right.” Telrin turned at Blue Jack’s proud sigh. The possum was glistening with fat, and a tantalizing aroma curled through the air and teased his sensed, causing him to realize that he was, in fact, quite hungry. The young hunter quickly wiped his hands on his pants and reclaimed his previous seat just as Blue Jack carefully handled the possum off of the makeshift spit. “A good’un, thinks I,” he said proudly. “Not much’n th’way ‘o fanciness, but damn fine fer what it is. Here.” He took it in both his hands and snapped off a hind leg, then handed the creature to Telrin. “Take’s much as y’like. Ere’s ‘nuff for both an’ more.” Telrin took the beast gratefully. It was greasy in his hands, but tantalizingly so; it took little more than another whiff for Telrin to tear off the other hind leg. He’d tasted possum before, but Telrin was an incredibly bad cook and never had he tasted something cooked so well. It was a fine, delicate meat, made hearty by the smoke that had caught and lent flavor. The thigh was gone before he realized it. “Hah! Hungry, were ya?” Telrin looked up sheepishly at Blue Jack, who was only halfway through what he had ripped from the carcass. “No worries; I’m an ol’ man. Don’t eat s’much’s I use’ta. Y’eat watcha want there; don’ worry ‘bout leavin’ ‘nuff fer me.” Telrin took those words to heart and tore off the two front legs with a grunt of thanks. Those disappeared as well, followed by a number of ribs. Blue Jack gave a long look to the possum when Telrin handed it back. “Damn,” he said, “y’were hungry.” “Sorry.” The old man laughed. “Nothin’ t’be sorry ‘bout. I ain’t gon’ finish this, though, that’s fer sure.” “I do not want any more.” “Hmm. Guess I’ll leave y’with it, then; don’ do me no good t’move with this t’take care of. This’ll spoil real quick if it ain’t ate up fast.” Telrin blinked, pausing in his task of licking the grease off of his fingers. “I… thank you.” “Fer what?” Blue Jack laughed. “Was yers t’start with, anyway.” The evening passed quickly after that. Neither Telrin or Blue Jack were particularly interested in finishing the possum, so it was wrapped up and stored. The old man eventually bid Telrin a good night a retired to his tent, which was as grimy and ragged as he was, and Telrin was left to bank the fire for the next morning. It was a simple enough task; he stirred the embers that remained, hot and glowing at the bottom of the hearth, and removed whatever wood could offer proper fuel. Once the coals were alone, he clawed at the dirt around the campfire and brought it to the center, where he covered up the coals and packed them down tight. They would survive the night. He returned to his tent with a warmth in his belly that he did not often find in the wilderness. It was unusual and welcome, and he found his eyes drooping before he even kicked off his shoes and slipped into his bedroll. Sleep crept up on him easily that night, and when his dreams unfurled their wings they were light and delicate. The dreams of a child.

[Telrin]

30th of fall, 513 a.v before dawn There was a heavy fog over the forest when Telrin pushed his way out of his tent. The sun had not yet risen, but the pre-dawn light still managed to enwreath the mountains in a gray veil. Telrin ran a hand through his hair and shook his head to clear the grogginess that wasn’t quite ready to leave. The mare whickered in greeting from where she had been tethered, and Telrin made his way over to her to give her a friendly rub on the nose. She nuzzled his hand, looking for a treat, and when she saw he had none she soon lost interest. Telrin left her to her own devices and knelt by the fire, putting a hand on the mound of dirt to confirm that it was still warm. A long stick was useful enough to stir it; beneath the banking, the embers remained glowing. Telrin added some tinder, kindling and then some small branches to reawaken the flames of the night before, and with some care and larger branches the fire was crackling merrily once more. The rustle of cloth announced the arrival of Blue Jack, who tumbled out of his tent with a stretch and a yawn wide enough to swallow the sky. He rubbed his eyes, then smiled brightly when he caught sight of Telrin. “G’mornin’!” Telrin nodded a greeting and continued tending to the fire until he was certain of its stability. The cast iron pot came next, still full of the brain paste he hadn’t used the night before. “So, erm…” Telrin looked up at the old man’s hesitant words. “... what ‘xactly are y’doing? What with the skin an’ th’brain an’ whatnot…?” “I’m tanning it,” Telrin replied, opening the pot to stir at the contents. “You use brain to tan hides. Did you know that every animal has exactly enough brains to tan its own hide?” “That’s… that’s great.” Blue Jack’s tone informed Telrin that his personal opinion was the exact opposite. That was alright, though; he didn’t have to tan hides if he didn’t want to, and he didn’t voice any insistence for Telrin to stop. And so the boy went to retrieve the possum hide. When the pot was warm without being hot, he removed it from the fire. He stirred it a bit more, then spread the hide over his knees and took a handful. He had only used half of the mixture the night before, so there was still enough to spread over the hide thoroughly. The chill of the morning was quickly driven away when he warmed his hands with the boiled brains, and again he found himself sinking into the drance of menial work. He scooped, spread, massaged, repeated. Scooped, spread, massaged, repeated. Again. Again. Again.

[Telrin]

He was almost done when he heard the click of metal and wood, causing him to pause and look up. Blue Jack was in the process of breaking his tent down, and he halted when he saw Telrin watching. “Sorry to take off so soon,” he said, “but time’s a-wastin’ and I’ve got a big road ahead o’me.” Telrin nodded, a bit disappointed in spite of himself. He finished the rest quickly and lay out the hide to absorb the brain completely, then washed his hands and stood. Blue Jack extended a hand when the boy walked over. Telrin took it, and Blue Jack continued his farewell. “Good sharin’ a fire,” he said with a firm shake. “And th’possum was a fine one. I put it by yer tent.” “Thank you.” Blue Jack laughed. “Thank you. Was a real treat t’chow with ya. Don’t have lots’o company. Ye’re quite a lad, an’ it was good t’meet’cha.” Telrin wasn’t quite sure what to say in response, so he simply nodded awkwardly. Blue Jack seemed to catch his meaning, though, and chuckled good-naturedly. “Y’look like ye’re headin’ out, too.” “I am. I must hunt before I return to the city.” “Well, best o’luck t’ya. I’ll probably be gone when y’get back.” “Oh, well… goodbye, then.” “Take care.” Blue Jack gave a warm nod then turned to finish breaking down his tent. Telrin left him to it and walked back to his own tent, where his bow and quiver were wrapped up snugly where the elements could not ravish them. He took up the bow, setting it against the ground and bending it enough for him to string. Then the quiver was slung over his shoulder, and after a bit of contemplation he decided against bringing along a cloak. It was still fall, after all, and it would warm up when the sun got higher. Already the horizon was bleeding pinks and purples which would soon enough turn into golds and reds; the forest would be waking up soon, and animals would be moving to streams to slake their thirst. Telrin would have to move quickly if he wanted to catch the morning rush. With a final glance toward Blue Jack, Telrin picked up his bow, shook away the last of the morning chill and set off into the trees.

[Telrin]

The mountains were painted red with light when Telrin came to his destination. The stream was modest in its travels between the trees, but trail after trail led here, to this spot. Animals came here morning after morning to drink, and it was here that Telrin would lay in wait. He took a perch on a boulder nearby, where he would have a good vantage point and wouldn’t have to shoot far. His range was still small, but the stream was close; he would have ample opportunity to slay something on this morning. The boulder was easy enough to climb up, even though his skills were nonexistent; there were a number of other, smaller boulders against it, and with them to aid him all he had to do was hop up and drag himself to the top. From there he could settle into a comfortable crouch, where he could be at ease but also spring to tension if and when something arrived. With his position claimed, Telrin took an arrow from his quiver and set it loosely to the bow. He didn’t have to wait long. It was a deer that chanced to wander by, a white-tailed doe that was soon followed by another, and then a buck. The two females moved to the stream while the male stood guard, scanning the area for anything that could be a threat. Telrin’s breaths were quick and shallow, and he dared not move lest the buck see him and send his does into flight. The arrow was already to the string, but it was not drawn, and he couldn’t allow the buck to see him; he waited for what felt like an eternity before the buck looked in another direction, seeing if there were any threats in the deeper shadows of the forest. Telrin took his chance. He pulled the string to his cheek, arrow nocked and aimed at the closest doe’s rib cage, where an arrow would do the most damage. The bow flexed with him, coiling in preparation as the matte-painted arrowhead smiled cruelly at its quarry. He took a pause. He took a breath. He let it fly.