It didn't take long for Aran to buy his supplies, and he spent a few moments fussing with the arrangement of the bags, making sure that everything was securely strapped, before he mounted Anyalvis. Sirot was standing beside him, and Aran looked down at his Ankhal as he said, "Expect me back after the 30," he said, waiting for Sirot's nod before he nudged Anyalvis with his heels, encouraging the Strider to jog easily through Endrykas. It was early enough that Aran probably could have gotten away with cantering through the tent city, but he didn't want to take the chance. Once they were clear of the city, then Aran leaned low over Anyalvis's neck, holding himself in place with his knees, and murmured softly to the stallion, allowing the horse to stretch his legs into whatever gait he felt most comfortable with.
This was the part that Aran enjoyed the most about his job-- being alone on the grasslands, nothing but him, Anyalvis, and the wind for as far as he could see. Aran had never been a sociable person, much preferring the company of horses to that of his fellow humans; horses never lied, never misled. Horses were honest, and one did not have to sift through their actions for ulterior motives if one knew how to read the language of horses. A flick of an ear could convey entire sentences, the baring of teeth could state a warning more clearly than any words. To horses, things were fairly clear-cut, and Aran wished that humans could be the same. But no, humans lied, cheated, stole, seduced, and murdered to obtain their goals. Sometimes Aran thought that perhaps humans were the most dangerous creatures on Mizahar, not the glassbeaks, Zith, or any other predator.
Horse and rider continued their journey, Aran trusting Anyalvis to read the terrain and not trip and fall-- that would hurt both of them severely, and Aran did not have sufficient knowledge to deal with anything beyond cuts. Anyalvis was an experienced traveler, however, and Aran trusted him. The horse would not let him fall.
The first night, Aran and Anyalvis camped out next to a stream; Aran set up his tent and then quickly built a fire, boiling a pot of water to begin making a stew from his rations. The Drykas didn't bother with hobbling his Strider; the stallion would not wander too far, and would bed down beside Aran's tent. Aran made certain that the wind would not blow his fire into the grass-- he didn't fancy trying to put out a bushfire in the dry Summer grass-- before he started scouting around for some fresh berries to add to his meal. It never hurt to save a little bit of rations where he could. Aran managed to find some berries, and after a few moments of internal debate, the Drykas made what was possibly the stupidest decision of his life-- he ate one.
Of course, he promptly felt incredibly stupid when he recognized the taste of juniper berries, and rolled his eyes at himself. Really, he should have remembered to crush the berries-- juniper had a very distinctive smell, like resin, when crushed. Gathering some more berries, Aran was careful to keep from crushing them just yet-- if he dried them out, he could add them to his meat to give it more flavor.
After he ate, Aran sent a prayer to Zulrav for fast and safe travel the next day before he settled down to sleep after checking one last time on Anyalvis and banking his fire so that there would be embers for him in the morning. |
