[Mithryn and Beyond]Through field and forest.(Oriah)

[Marrick Corvis]

They lay there together in contented silence, and Marrick felt full. He wasn’t hungry. Though he’d barely eaten. He wasn’t thirsty though he’d only swallowed a mouthful. He felt filled, with her. It was like, a warm light filled him. It was not at all like the first time. It was nothing like the times after. This… this was right. This was good! This was what it should have been like. The dark haired squire felt impossibly good about the moment his world existed in, yet he could not help but feel just a bit cheated. The memory of the hedonist and his wife, the mental and physical torture they’d put him through squeezed his chest just a little, and the memory coaxed a single tear, both sad and gracious from the corner of his eye. The Kelvic heaved a great sigh and mentally swore to Yahal, that he would do right by Oriah. He needed to tell her. Everything. Al of it. Everything he’d done. Everything that had happened. It would be a short story he knew, but something in his heart told him that she would be forever be outside of his reach unless he did. But, not yet. He was not ready. When she whispered his name, he realized he had grown tense. He relaxed only to squeeze her, and wormed his arms into a tighter embrace. “Aye,” he whispered back, all the contentedness and stress leaving him just as his breath rushed out of him in a hushed whoosh. He waited, soothed and silent as if he floated on a warm sea, or rested in a hot spring. She thought something was burning? The Kelvic thought the idea was obsurd, though that did nothing to stop him from sniffing the air. Indeed the lithe Benshira was right. The air smelled of slightly burned meat. Meat that they hadn’t caught. Marrick bolted upright and looked to the fire to find Oriah’s Patron casually roasting a rabbit on a spit. The first question that leapt to his throat would have been, ‘how long have you been there.’ However, as she had already roasted a rabbit to the point of crispness she must have been there for some time. Each response came to him more crass and snarky than before. Until at last Marrick understood that the Sand Witch had just behaviorally check mated him. The dark haired squire realized there was no other option but to smile and greet her. He stood silently, and chose the path of flattery. “Sera, yer more subtle than a Ravoki Snow Leapord, walkin n’ fresh powdered snow.” The Kelvic smiled sweetly, though he was irritated. “n’ ye have either the warst toimin, or perhaps the best.” Marrick’s smile turned to a smirk, as Sera Mora fixed him with a smile, and eyes that flashed like a predator. Almost the way a hawk might as it watched its prey scurry. Marrick simply narrowed his eyes at her, as if to shout silently that he was unafraid and helped Oriah to her feet. “Looks loike our toime here is comin to an end, love.” The Kelvic said with a smile both sad and sweet. He was about to hug his sweet Benshira when he heard Sera Mora say something more unexpected than snow in the height of summer. “You can stay, little niblet.” The new nickname was odd enough as it was, but he could stay? Marrick’s eyes narrowed again at the Chaktawe. Was this some trick? A test to see if Marrick was truly as brave as he acted? Or perhaps this was a joke at his expense. The Kelvic chewed at the corner of his mouth and nodded before approaching the fire. “So exactly just how do you always seem teh know where we are?” Marrick said as he took a sip of the now cooling soup before handing it to Oriah.

[/quote]

[Oriah]

Oriah had caught the scent of burning meat as well, but Marrick was far quicker to act. And since she was still very much enveloped within his arms, much to her immediate chagrin upon seeing Sera Mora, the Benshira came up right along with her companion as he sat bolt straight.

For one, harrowing tick, no one moved. The two squires just stared at the sight of Oriah's patron knight roasting a rabbit over their fire in dead silence. It was hitting so many levels of mortification and dread that Mora's squire scarce knew where to begin. Then, right as Marrick decided to stand, Oriah chose to shift out from under his embrace, resulting in them slipping away from one another as fluidly and easily as if they'd agreed on the timing. Which was impossible, given neither had said a word.

The Chaktawe merely raised her chin a fraction as she appraised them both. Silently, and cryptically, of course, but appraised nonetheless. Had they been spending enough time to be so attuned already, the knight wondered? Perhaps this afternoon had been a mistake. An oversight in allotment of time.

Or, as David would most likely argue, it was exactly the right amount of time their squires needed.

Oh, Mora mentally grinned as Whitevine's squire began to speak, if only he could see them now. David's courageous little niblet had stood up to the Chaktawe--quite literally--and was lavishing her with thinly concealed annoyance in his otherwise sweet words. The knight wondered briefly if he'd picked up that particular ability from his patron. Gods knew the elder of the Whitevine twins could turn threats into honey if he so chose it.

As Marrick helped her to her feet, Oriah could do nothing but stare wide eyed back and forth between patron and fellow squire. She was dumbstruck at first that Marrick chose to speak so freely and boldly to Sera Mora. The Benshira herself had never been half as direct. Though, to be fair, it was largely because she feared earning herself more bells of..."creative" training exercises.

But what unnerved her more was the predatory gaze her patron gave back. Oriah had only seen this look a few times before. Usually, it preceded a particularly baffling objective Sera Mora wanted her to complete, or if the knight herself faced a challenging mission, or whenever something decided to upset the peace within the woods. What reason the Chaktawe could possibly have for looking at Marrick the way she was right then...well, her squire was beyond guessing. Oriah's greatest fear was that Sera Mora would send her raven-haired companion away somehow. And, even though that proved highly unlikely, it didn't stop the worry from flashing through her mind as Marrick and her patron engaged in what could only describe as a brief battle of gazes.

Thankfully, the knight had other plans in mind. Oriah felt air rush from her lungs in relief as Sera Mora announced they could stay. The fact that she'd just given Marrick another oddball nickname didn't escape Oriah's notice, but it didn't exactly knock her flat on the ground with shock, either.

The Desert Witch did strange things all the time. And her squire learned in the year they'd spent training together that plying for explanations was often more perplexing than not plying for explanations altogether.

At Marrick's next question, Mora only chuckled lightly. "Another story for another day, little niblet." She withdrew the rabbit from the fire and twisted it this way and that, inspecting her handiwork. Oriah knew better than to expect her patron to reveal just how long she'd been sitting there roasting that hare. And, quite predictable, Mora didn't.

Instead, she slipped her hand into one of her many pockets and withdrew a neatly folded piece of parchment. Oriah sipped at the soup Marrick had offered her and stared, unblinking.

A...letter? Who on Mizahar would her patron--

"For your most esteemed patron, Squire Corvis," the Chaktawe explained with a small grin. "It is not sealed, as I trust you will not read it, but he needs to read this as soon as you return. Nothing to ring the alarms for, just a bit of news."

Oriah sighed inwardly. Cryptic as ever. "Does this mean you are busy today, then, Sera?" she asked instead, hoping to get at least one answer for her multitudes of questions. The knight was rarely if ever caught relying on the help of others. There must be good reason why she was entrusting this letter to Marrick and not hand delivering it herself. A reason both important and urgent, but not too important or urgent. Blessed Yahal, it hurt her head just to tell head from end.

Sera Mora turned her attentions to her squire, and for a tick there may have been a glimmer of fondness. Or amusement. Whichever suited the woman more at that moment.

"I am, Little Bird. But I won't be gone for long. I just thought it convenient, since our brother in arms is here with us now. Wouldn't you say so?"

Oriah stared thoughtfully into the depths of delicious soup. "Yes, I suppose it was..."

Sera Mora stood, taking her roasted hare with her. "Well it would be best for me to be on my way, then. Thank you for lending your fire, little ones, and I shall see you soon. Take care of that letter, niblet."

And then she was gone, faded into the shadows and folds of the forest faster than Oriah could say farewell. She was still holding her hand up in the gesture when she realized her patron was no where in sight. Sighing, the Benshira turned to her fellow squire with an apologetic look.

"Lunch is never normal with my patron..." She smiled and passed back the helmet now a quarter full of broth, thoughts still lingering on not one, but two, tender kisses they had just shared.

"But you get to stay. For that I am most grateful."

[Marrick Corvis]

Marrick had heard Sera Mora was slippery, both from Oriah, and Ser Whitevine. Yet, the way in which she had responded still made him feel as if he were climbing a glass wall. Still her casual air made him smirk. “Oi’ll hold ye teh that, as if it were a promise, Sera.” He said softly through his smiling lips. He was feeling playful, and genuinely curious as always so even the possibility of a story had him feeling cheeky. When she offered him the letter, the dark haired squire eyed the artfully folded and wax-less bit of paper. He lilted his head to one side as he often did when his curiosity was peaked, and very gently took the letter into his hands. Who on earth would she send this to, and why give it to him? Almost as quickly as questions formed lucidly in his mind they were answered by Oriah’s Patron. His posture straightened and his brow furrowed. So many different questions rolled their way into his head that they distracted his focus, though just. All the confusion and distraction lifted as he reached a conclusion about the Chaktawe. She enjoyed playing with her ‘toys’. His smirk became a broad grin as he slid the letter into a fold in his pack. For a long moment he searched for something to say while the cogs in his mind wheeled about. She enjoyed playing with all things that entered into her sphere of influence. That meant that Ser Whitevine was also in her ‘box’. The realization made Marrick’s lips part and he made a soft click with his tongue before he spoke. “Oi’ll be sure only his eyes see the scrawl of its surface.” He said, with a nod and a smirk that held the slightest edge of suspected naughtiness. While Sera Mora, and Oriah conversed Marrick took the opportunity to listen quietly while he began to clean up. When they had finished the Dark haired squire found himself cocking his head at the Chaktawe again in thought. The woman was a ball of yarn to a cat… a shiny coin to well, a raven. He chewed his lip while he watched them complete their conversation. When the Knight called him Niblet again the name seemed to stick rather nicely and he smirked at her again. This time it even elicited a snort of a chuckle. “Yer words will be his soon Sera.” He said as he gave the enigmatic knight a final wave goodbye. When at last Oriah’s eyes met his they were filled with a horrified remorse so potent that Marrick couldn’t help but stifle a laugh. She handed him his helmet back and he tried to wash down his amusement with the cooling broth. When at last his helm was empty he chuckled quietly, through a little smile that alighted upon his lips softer than goose feather. “Ye spoke of her once or twice, as had Ser Whoitvoine, but this is the farst toime Oi’ve had the pleasure of speakin teh her direct.” His gaze shifted to watch the patch of forest she had disappeared into and he shook his head incredulously. “It’s almost as if she can read yer moind.” He said after a short pause. “Or perhaps yer heart.” His words floated in the air a moment before he turned his attentions back to Oriah. His eyes held a softness to them, and he smiled sweetly at her. “Well, it seems moy stay has been extended.” The dark haired squire said softly. “Mazeen!” he exclaimed. “Now what teh do with a long afternoon, and a quiet evenin.” He fixed her with a rather wolfish grin before his eyes slipped to the bow lashed to his saddle. A plan began to form in his mind. A plan that would involve fresh meat. “Has yer Patron taken yeh huntin yet?”

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[Oriah]

Things had lulled into an easy silence again as they finished their simple but delicious lunch when Marrick spoke of Sera Mora. Surprised, Oriah looked up to listen, eager to know what the other squire thought of her patron after such an unexpected meeting.

So, she smiled back at the soft expression on his face, he thought Mora an enigma too. A perceptive one and eerily so. During her first season with the Chaktawe, Oriah thought she might have been able to read minds as well. But as the seasons went by and she spent more and more time with the knight, the Benshira suspected Mora was not simply experienced in such things. Sometimes she caught her patron bending an hear low to the ground, as if listening to a blade of grass, or engaging in what appeared to be actual conversation with various wildlife.

Perhaps the rumors are just a little bit true...Oriah had assumed at first. But further observations made her doubt this assumption. The Chaktawe knew so many things within the Bronze Woods. It certainly would explain how she came by this information, to be able to communicate with life forms other than humans.

It wasn't long after that Sera Mora decided to enlighten her squire. Oriah suspected she'd waited on purpose, seeing if the young woman would figure it out for herself, or perhaps be so gullible as to believe the rumors.

"Take me hunting?" the Benshira echoed in bewilderment. It seemed a strange question to ask at first, but knowing Marrick there was probably a fresh idea brewing in his agile mind. "She does from time to time. Mostly small game for food, but nothing too big and only if we must."

Fidgeting with the hem of her tunic, Oriah added, "And if I am to be honest, Sera Mora does most of hunting and killing. I only come to help and keep watch and maybe learn a little."

She didn't exactly enjoy admitting her own lack of skill to someone she held in such high esteem, but the truth was the truth. Better that Marrick knew now than later, when their very lives may depend on what she could and couldn't do. It was yet another basic philosophy most Tent people shared and the Benshira tried not to let it make her feel too anxious.

Moving to what few possessions she's brought that had been stowed along Kiter's saddle, Oriah withdrew her shortbow and quiver. Her Tamos and sling she kept in her belt at all times, though she patted them once each anyway to make sure they were secure.

For a moment, the squire considered whether she should tell Marrick about Sera Mora's mark. Oriah herself was still somewhat confused and bewildered by just what exactly the knight's goddess mark granted her in terms of power. But maybe she should save it for another day, another time. In a place where the Chaktawe might not be able to overhear.

"I am ready when you are," Oriah beamed, weapon and quiver slung over one shoulder, proud of being able to use the Common phrase.

Beside her, the warhorse nudged one of her shoulders. Obliging without much hesitance, Oriah raised a hand to stroke Kiter along her forehead and nose, enjoying the soft feel of her coat. It took a long time to reach this point of rather easy camaraderie but she was glad for it.

"Will Kiter be coming too?"

[Marrick Corvis]

The bewildered expression the Benshira gave Marrick coaxed a broad smile onto his face as she repeated the tail end of his question. Sera Mora sounded like a true child of nature and the Kelvic could appreciate that. She seemed a truly economical creature, and he wondered for just a tic or two what she might want with his Patron. David was such a ‘farm boy’. The image of Ser Whitevine carrying a hoe instead of a cutlass made his brow furrow between his eyebrows in a mischievous smirk. As his attentions coalesced on Oriah again, he found her bashfully playing with the hem of her shirt. Humble words spilled from her sweet lips, and he contemplated the theft of another kiss before they went out into the afternoon in search of game. Marrick struggled finding any word that fit how he felt for the Benshira apart from love. What to say, what to do. What would Oriah do to him in a situation like this? The answer came in the form of a challenge. Boldness in the face of a task always seemed to favor the sandy haired maiden. He rubbed the stubble on his chin and stifled a mischievous smirk as he watched her prepare. A short bow, quiver, and Tamos were all at her disposal. She would be ready come what may. By Sylir all she would really need out in the wilds were her Tamos to survive at least for a month. It struck him as odd when she used such a Common phrase as ‘I am ready when you are.’ Though the concept of how foreign a statement like that might be to her wasn’t lost on him. Surely the peoples of the Eyketol had phrases like that. He smirked back at her, amused by her pride. The sight of her made him inhale deeply and sigh in satisfaction. “Oi’m ready enough, though Oi think Oi should trade down a bit in terms of armor and weapons. We’re huntin game afterall, n’ naught bandits.” He pursed his lips and patted his armor in places for a moment considering what he would absolutely need. His Longsword would definitely need to stay, but he could sling it into his saddle, and bags. He would need his longbow for certain. Marrick unbuckled his armor and let it fall piece by piece to the warm ground beneath their feet. “First things first Oi suppose. The less noise we make the easier it’ll be teh foind game.” The Kelvic removed everything that clanked and rattled. Even his mail, leaving just his Gambeson to give him a measure of cushioned protection. He hummed his favorite tune as he bundled up the gear he had removed, and stashed it in a hollowed out tree. He was off key, but the tune made him feel happy. It was always the same one. The song that he had danced to with Oriah the night they had met. He thought he had gotten better at getting the notes right, but he hadn’t heard the song since and the year mark had drawn nearer since. He threw loose dirt and ash over the fire to extinguish its warm crackling blaze and the flames died in a puff of gray smoke. He added more until the smoke was no more than a few tendrils of smoldering wisp and he set about cleaning his helm. When he felt it was wearable again he stuffed it into one of his saddle bags. “Of course we couldn’t go anywhere without Koiter. Animals don’t moind the sound a’ other animals, n’ we need teh cover a bit a’ ground. Though, Oi’ve never tracked an animal from her back. T’day should be interestin.” The Kelvic gave his horse a friendly pat and she turned her nuzzling attentions on him. He knew what she wanted apart from love and affection. The massive Tiaden was an Oat addict, and the Kelvic had her fix. He pulled a hand full of the grains from his hip pouch and fed them to her with an open palm giving her a slow stroke of her neck. Marrick had the company of his mount for almost a year now and she still astonished him with her calm, and noble presence. She was demanding now and again, but he didn’t feel anything she had asked of him to be anything but reasonable. He strung his longbow by sliding it between his legs, and used a fresh gut string from his pack. He gave the weapon a quick draw to remind his muscles what they were about to do. He felt ready. “Roight then!” he said with a smile before he stepped into one of Kiter’s stirrups. He slid his longsword into a convenient couple of loops on his saddle and secured it in place before he offered the Benshira a hand up. He removed one of his booted feet from the stirrup nearest her so she could use it to step up, and he helped her onto Kiter’s back. He waited patiently for her to get comfortable before he gathered up the Tiaden’s reins and gently coaxed her into a slow turn. He took in the land around them. He searched for landmarks so they could find their way back if needed. A good fire pit should be used again, and he would need to recover his armor. Confident he could find the little clearing in daylight he aimed Kiter for the nearest creek bed and gave her a gentle tap in her ribs. The horse broke into a casual canter, and Marrick let her lead the way. She was the one with her feet on the ground, and the Kelvic trusted her to find the best path. It didn’t take long before they descended the side of a ravine along a deer trail that Marrick saw the creek bed. He gave Kiters reins a gentle tug to coax her to slow down and she did obediently. The massive horse slowed to a walk, and the dark haired squire halted her just short of the muddy bank with a low toned, “Whoa lass.” He lifted himself out of the saddle and inspected the bank for any tracks he saw. There were all sorts of sign all along the bank but nothing he could decipher from Kiter’s saddle. He huffed softly in mild frustration. “Oi need teh look a bit closer, yeh moind joinin me in the mud fer a few tics?” he said over his shoulder to his riding companion. When she was ready he helped her down and followed shortly after. His feet met the soft ground near the creeks bank with the sloshy sound of mud. He squatted there a moment and inspected the ground. The wet earth was soft, and the rotted leaf litter smelled like strong tea. The Kelvic slung his bow over his shoulder and looked up and down the bank in the soft fresh mud. A deep impression caught his eye and he stood to look at it a bit better. He scratched his stubble in thought and pointed it out to Oriah. “Over here.” He said as he sloshed through the mud and little river stones, Kiter and Oriah in tow. The imprint of the cloven hoof of a large animal, cut a gash in the mud, and the Kelvic looked about in search of more. As the creek bed grew deeper, more tracks presented. It seemed to Marrick, that the animal had gone north. For a final test of scale the dark haired squire held his splayed hand out and measured the size of the animals hoof. The impression was smaller than his hand, but bigger than his palm. With a deep inhale and slow exhale Marrick dipped his hand into the water and touched the depth of the impression stirring the silt of the creek bed. The sand disturbed and the pale eyed Kelvic cocked his head sideways for just a moment before he removed his hand and shook the water off. “It’s big.” He exclaimed for just a moment before he handed the reins to Oriah for and inspected the Tiaden’s hoof prints in the creek bed. “It’s naught as large as Koiter though.” There were many cloven hooved animals in the bronze wood. Elk, Deer, wild cattle, wild sheep, pigs or boar, and many more. The Kelvic stood in thought, and he realized he didn’t recognize the track. “Oi’m naught sure what it is. We should be careful as we get closer, but Oi have it’s trail.” Marrick lifted himself back into the saddle and offered a hand to Oriah again to help her up. When they were secured in the saddle again he licked his finger and tested the direction of the wind. The wind blew from the west as it often did, and that bode well for them. “Winds from the west. If we approach from the south, or east we should foind the beasty unawares.” A shallow sigh escaped is lips and he gave Oriah’s knee a gentle squeeze. “Yeh doin alroight back there? Yeh excoited?”

[Oriah]

Oriah watched with bated breath and a twinkle in her cerulean eyes as Marrick began to remove his armor piece by piece. She hadn't been sure at first if he was really going to do exactly what he said he would. Or whether he would find some place to retreat to, as proper modesty might dictate.

But, the Benshira was reluctant to admit, she was as surprised as she was relieved when he began shedding his armor right then and there. Having no knowledge of her companion's true heritage, Oriah merely assumed his dark past had rendered him desensitized to such things. So it was with respectful silence and no small amount of curiosity that she stood watch while Marrick decided which parts to leave behind.

The other squire was humming while he worked to stash his gear in the hollow of a nearby tree. For a moment, Oriah swore it was a melody she knew. And then it came trickling back, one memory at a time...the warm din of the Stallion's confines, glasses of wine, and a lively competition between genders. She smiled wide at the realization that Marrick remembered this song, but made no mention of it for the time being. It was a small piece of treasure she would hoard to herself. Perhaps she would bring it up later. Perhaps she would not.

Once their fire had been properly extinguished and Marrick's gear safely stowed, their last task was to prepare Kiter. Oriah wondered at the presence of the towering Tiaden. The Benshira herself had spent so many days and nights out in the woods that she no longer thought twice about preparation. It was easier traveling with just knight and squire, occasionally mounts in tow, and with Sera Mora expertly in the lead. And though their present numbers hadn't really changed, Oriah found herself hoping that together they were competent enough to see their first hunting trip together through. It was a test, a challenge, as much as it was an exciting part of a rare day spent with Marrick.

Her fellow squire certainly exuded enough confidence for the both of them. Stringing his longbow and giving it a quick test draw, Marrick looked every inch the experienced hunter-squire. In less than a chime they were stepping back into Kiter's saddle, Oriah's hand held firmly in her partner's as he pulled her up, the act unfailing in its ability to earn her admiration for his easy strength.

This time, she sat behind Marrick and had to wrap her arms around his torso. He would need every advantage in sight and mobility that he could get. Meanwhile, Oriah scanned behind them every few ticks, making sure they weren't overlooking anything past Marrick's peripheral.

They rode on like this for some time in companionable silence, until sooner than she thought possible a deer was spotted near a ravine and they came to a gentle halt. Both squires dismounted quickly and quietly to land in soft, squishy mud. Oriah focused on keeping her boot steps even and slow, careful not to make any unnecessary squelching noises and trusting Marrick to continue following the tracks of the target. He was right; the hoof imprints were enormous. As they passed by mark after mark, it was clear to either squire that these tracks were almost impossible to miss. Their only problem now was figuring out where the large creature would stop and how to bring it down with what few resources they had brought along.

Nodding in assent to Marrick's plan, Oriah took one last look at the hoof prints before following him back to Kiter. With increasing speed and efficiency, they managed to mount up for a third time and continue pursuing the muddy trail, a sense of purpose and determination growing stronger and stronger as they drew nearer to their prey. The Benshira usually avoided having to hunt and kill the Bronze Wood's larger denizens if she could, but Winter was approaching. They would need to extra food and hides for clothing, as Sera Mora had reminded her so many times in the past.

There was a sudden warmth and pressure on her knee. Oriah glanced up at Marrick with a mild start before relaxing back into the broad expanse of his shoulders and smiling.

"I'm alright," she answered, returning the gesture with a gentle squeeze of her own around his torso. "And I confess I am a little nervous...I've never hunted such a large animal before. "

No sooner had the words left her mouth than Kiter stop abruptly and inexplicably. Features drawn in confusion, Oriah tilted to one side to look past Marrick's arm. Ahh, now she understood...the Tiaden had ground to a halt due to a steep drop farther down to the creek covered mostly in large, jagged rocks. Squinting past the stones, she could also see that the mud ran freer, almost mingling entirely with the trickling stream. It would be a chore for both squires to walk across and an unpleasant trap for a much heavier creature like Kiter.

"It looks like we will need to walk," Oriah noted, already withdrawing her embrace and readying herself to dismount again.

A faint squeal of distress suddenly sounded from somewhere up the creek. Head snapping in its direction, the Benshira searched amongst the flora and fauna, trying to pinpoint where the call came from.

She had heard this sound before...once, long ago, at the beginning of her time with Sera Mora. Oriah had been out on her own, foolishly attempting to bring Marrick a culinary surprise. Only to unsurprisingly become lost herself, which lead to her encounter with the enigmatic Ethafel, Medhozic. She could remember the freezing bite of the stream as the two of them hauled a trapped deer back onto the banks, nearly losing their lives to do so. It lent a curious sense of nostalgia and deja vu, but Oriah brushed it aside to concentrate on the present.

"We may be in luck," she explained, anxious excitement barely contained in her voice. "Whatever the beast is, I think it has trapped itself in the mud."

Looking up along the elevated ridge by the creek, Oriah pointed to their left and suggested in a hushed tone, "We will have to be quick, but quiet. The mud will slow us down. We can move up there where it is drier and easier to see, then try to find a good place to bring it down with our arrows."

[Marrick Corvis]

Marrick smiled at Oriah’s response to his question, and sighed pure contentedness when she squeezed his midsection gently. As they rounded a tree Marrick saw the edge of the muddy ravine before they reached it. The trees had begun to bow and hang in strange angles due to the dip in the ground. However, the Kelvic was not prepared for how treacherous the muddy gully appeared. The Lithe Benshira was right in her assessment. They would have to walk. The last thing they needed was twenty eight to twenty nine stone of flailing animal with a broken leg. He hummed a low tone in thought as he considered their options. The earth had been washed away to reveal large moraines of jagged stone marked sharply by fallen logs and other obstacles that would endanger their steeds legs and hooves. After a long sigh Marrick bent low over the Tiaden’s withers and stroked her shoulder and neck in a long brush of his hand. “Sorry lass, we’re goin teh have teh leave yeh behoind.” The large horse shook her mane out as Marrick lifted up and gave Kiter a final pat of her shoulder. The sound of an animal suffering peeled through the ravine and Marrick’s eyes narrowed. Oriah spoke of luck, and opportunity, while the Kelvic’s instincts spoke to him otherwise. An animal trapped will struggle, and make noise. Yet, none would bleat so openly unless it was in great pain. Oriah’s suggestion was sound though. Less mud meant mobility, and less noise. He nodded in the direction she indicated with her confident finger. With a hushed grunt he slid out of the Tiaden’s saddle and tied her lead off to the nearest sapling he could find. He helped Oriah from the saddle with an offered hand and a smile. Contact with her was always exciting and endearing. A soft sigh escaped his throat in the subtlest of breaths as he let go of her hands, and the disappointment of no longer touching her physically left him feeling empty. The Kelvic shook away the feeling and gathered up his bow and arrows. He checked his quiver to be sure he had enough arrows, and gave his strung bow one last test before he silently waited for Oriah to indicate her readiness. He blinked slowly as he watched her prepare, brief as it was. She had packed lightly, clever lass. It occurred to Marrick in that moment that the Benshira had likely done so her whole life. From what she’d told him on other occasions, travel in the tents was efficient to the extreme. When she turned toward him, he lifted a finger to his lips and smiled. With an entreating hand he motioned for Oriah to take the lead and notched an arrow. They would find something good. Oh yes. Marrick felt the excitement rising in his chest. His heartbeat fluttered quickly. The mud gave way to packed dirt and forest floor moss and grass. It was perfect. Like a loyal pup he followed Oriah up the ravine and along its rim. They avoided jagged rocks, and the occasional rotted tree. The Kelvic helped where he could, offering a silent hand or a leg up. Until at last they found their way to a place where the ground had given way and a small slump of dirt filled a section of the ravine. Marrick stood stock still for a tick or two and knelt to inspect the ground for hoof prints. Quietly he ran his fingers through the packed damp earth until he found an impression in the grass. With curious lilt he looked at the footprint and spread his hand out over it to measure its size as he had before. It was the same hoof print. Whatever the animal was, its weight, it seemed had caused the side of the ravine to give way. Without warning the terrible bleating noise of the animal broke the silence again. This time followed by the growling of many beasts. Without thinking Marrick half stood and spread his legs in a low crouch and lifted his bow, aiming it toward the noise. He cast a sideways worried glance at Oriah and whispered. “Well, shyke.” The breathy curse word came out like wisp of smoke though the tension he gave off in waves felt like a razor on a tuned guitar string.

[Oriah]

With quiet, careful movements, they dismounted Kiter and trekked across the soft underbrush, Oriah taking the lead and Marrick guarding the rear. The Benshira found herself musing how rare it was for her to be in this position; normally, she was always following Sera Mora, taking her cues from the Chaktawe like a duckling trailing after its waddling mother.

But with Marrick...she felt a sense of, for lack of a better word, morale that had nothing to do with a rousing speech or day's worth of hard earned accomplishments. Just his presence alone lent her assurance.

They moved in mutually understood silence, picking a careful path through the forest's budding growth and lending each other a hand whenever necessary. There were no more pained cries of distress from the animal trapped in the mud. Oriah was half-worried that it would be gone by the time they reached it and half-hopeful it would be dead. The death of other living things was as natural as it was crucial to the cycle of life, but it did not mean she enjoyed having to shoot down a trapped creature bleating in desperation.

When they at last reached the ravine, Marrick bent to search the ground for traces of their prey. While he looked, Oriah stood watch, hand resting anxiously upon the hilt of her shortsword. Something was gnawing subtly at her nerves, but she couldn't put her finger on what it was.

Suddenly, her fears were given voices of their own as bleating and growling cut through the air. Oriah drew her sword the same instant Marrick crouched and readied his bow. The poor animal was going to be hunted down one way or the other, it seemed. It was just a matter of who got to it first: the squires, or the beasts. The Benshira found it even more unnerving that she couldn't recognize half of the sounds she was hearing.

"Shyke indeed," she whispered back, no trace of humor in her tone. "I think some are wolves, but not all..."

Taking a deep breath, Oriah carefully and quietly sheathed her sword in favor of her shortbow. She unstrung it from her back and, withdrawing an arrow from her quiver, nocked and aimed alongside her companion. They remained in this formation for a few moments, one crouched and the other standing. The growls had died down before renewing themselves again, accompanied by splashes of water--no doubt the desperate attempts of the prey to escape.

The Benshira lowered her bow an inch and whispered to Marrick, "We need to get closer if we wish to continue...or we could turn back. It may be too dangerous."

No sooner had she spoken than something rustled in a collection of the low growing shrubs before them. Oriah's bow was up and aimed once more in less than half a tick. Her heart hammered itself senselessly against her ribs as her eyes darted back and forth for any sign of movement. She could hear the snarls and sniffing of an animal coming ever closer.

The snout of a very shaggy, very familiar looking creature poked itself out from the budding foliage.

"Wolf!" Oriah hissed, and before the animal could decide whether or not it wanted to engage with the two humans the squire fired. Her arrow went whistling through the air before landing right in front of the wolf's paws, sending it growling and retreating farther back into the bushes.

With shaking, adrenaline-filled hands, she made to grab another arrow. Oriah resisted the urge to curse how difficult it was to pluck a second arrow from her back and made a mental note to herself to perhaps try attaching the quiver to her belt or boots the next time around. If they lived long enough for a next time to exist. Quelling her nerves as best she could, the Benshira nocked a second arrow and waited. The wolf would come back with reinforcements, she was certain.

[Marrick Corvis]

The Kelvic’s animal instinct to take flight was pounding at his mental door like an angry patron who’d just been thrown out of a Bar. Inside him his guts were tying themselves into knots so tight that he wondered if he’d ever be able to eat food in portions larger than a spoonful again for fear of the consequences. He controlled his breathing as Ser Whitevine had taught him and found a calm in the din of terror that gripped his heart. He even felt the strange tickle of excitement trying to fight its way to the surface. Oriah readied her bow, and sheathed her blade while Marrick watched the forest for movement. The wild cry of an animal trying to escape being ravaged split the calm of the wood. Silence followed each bout, apart from the sounds of the animals crossing the ravine. Their chase dragged out back and forth across the little rivulet of water than ran down its base. When he heard Oriah’s whispered words of caution in his ear his hackles raised a little and settled in a tingled sensation like he was poised and ready to strike. The anticipation was killing him. Besides, Marrick wanted that animal. They’d tracked it, they’d have just as much right to it as the wolves did. He was about to suggest they push forward when a rustling in the low vegetation caught his eye and he drew his readied shaft to its full length and took aim. It smelled like a dog. A wild dog. No, the animal was much bigger than a dog, and much more aggressive. Marrick knew what it was just as the beast’s nose broke through the shrubs. The Benshira’s hiss registered in his head like Ser Whitevine telling him to loose his arrow. Marrick calmly took aim at the animal’s snout, and Oriah let her arrow fly. Her arrow missed. It was distraction enough that the wolf turned tail and ran. The Kelvic re-aimed his shot, and tried to envision where the animal was in the shrubberies. The Dark haired squire felt a coldness in his veins, as icy as his eyes when he let his arrow fly. The pained yelp that followed surprised him. “Oi didn’t think Oi’d a hit it.” He said as he stood. The Kelvic loped forward to a nearby tree, stopping only to check to make sure Oriah was still with him. Then back again to see where the wolf had fallen. A great howl filled his ears, and he crouched like a bird about to take flight. His focus though was keenly aimed at what was headed their way. Stealth seemed pointless at this point, and the liberty to sprint openly, gave him all the swiftness of a terrified deer. “Oi saw where the wolf went down, but there are more comin. We can’t say here. They’ll leap out at us from cover. We need an open place the see em!” Marrick searched vainly for a tactical positon. A rock, a hill, anything. Until at last he realized that the only place better than the lip of the ravine was down in the muddy creek that ran its length. “Come on Oriah, we gotta move or we’re gonna be Peched!” Marrick grabbed her hand tightly and made for the fallen slump in the ravine. Behind them he heard the growls as they drew closer, closing the gap. When they reached the edge, the pair hesitated though only just a tick. Desperate to keep his companion from harm, Marrick let go of Oriah’s hand and gave her a hard nudge so that there was no other choice but to go down. For Marrick though, his fall would be far less graceful. The Kelvic barely had time enough to turn around and bring up his bow in defense. The wolf that attacked him bowled him over the lip with its weight. The world turned over on itself and Marrick felt like he was caught in the biggest wind storm he’d ever flown in. He tumbled through the air awkwardly and when his shoulder made contact with the muddy ground he immediately regretted leaving behind his armor. The only upside to the situation was that the creek bed was a slurry of mud to cushion his fall. Marrick gasped for air, spat away the filth in his mouth and stood. Reflexively he reached for a fresh arrow only to find there were none left in his quiver. In that same moment he realized that his bow had been bitten through. With a groan of frustration he tossed the ruinned bow and slopped through the slick ankle deep mud to Oriah’s side and drew his long sword. “Are yeh allroight?” the dark haired squire managed to spout through the mud that caked his face. The wolf that had bowled him over was recovering and three more mounted the rim of the ravine. “This doesn’a look too good.” Marrick knew his words were too obvious. Yet, for whatever reason the knowledge that the situation was grim made him feel more determined to live. The instinct to fly away and live hit him hard in the gut, and for just a moment he looked at Oriah. The way her hands grasped her bow. The determined look in her eye made Marrick feel guilty for even considering for one hairs breadth of a tick to leave behind the woman he loved. “No,” he said softly at first. The noise built in his throat like a growling challenge. “NOOO!” he roared. His blade flashed from its sheath as he brought it up in readiness. “Stay close the me, Love and we will see the morrow.”

[Oriah]

Oriah gasped in surprise as Marrick's arrow sped through the underbrush after hers and elicited a pained yelp from their fleeing would-be predator. She was immensely relieved one of them had managed to land a shot, though. One wounded wolf meant one less beat at its full strength to worry about.

A terrible howl pierced the air not long after. Neither squire needed expertise in wolf behavior to know that the sound boded nothing well for the two of them.

Marrick was first to react. He said something about it not being safe to stay here and finding an open space before grabbing her hand and bolting. The Benshira stumbled the first few steps before her feet found their balance, breath coming in increasingly quicker pants as they fled. She had managed to fire her second arrow in a last ditch attempt to buy them a few ticks worth of time. Once Marrick had grabbed her free hand, however, Oriah had no choice but to sling the bow back onto her shoulder and pour all of her focus into keeping up.

Behind them, she could hear the persistent growls of hungry, angry predators. She had been so preoccupied with running and not letting the sounds of pursuit behind them undo all of her nerves that the Benshira almost walked right off of the edge of the ravine. Fortunately, Marrick was there to keep her steady. But a hard nudge later she was going down, feet and hands sliding, a look of horrified shock plastered on her face as she watched her companion fall out of sight.

Three ticks later Marrick's body came sailing overhead to land bodily into the mud. His lupine attacker followed suit, landing a little more nimbly and on all fours, though the mud sucked at its paws and forced it to struggle for freedom.

Oriah was still half sliding, half scrambling down the edge of the ravine when she heard a gasp of air from the other squire. Relieved beyond description that he was still alive, the Benshira practically jumped the rest of the way down and landed on her hands and knees in the dark, squishy mud.

"Marrick!" she called out, fumbling to keep her bow slung on her back and limbs from getting sucked deeper into the mud. By the time she was mostly upright and ready for battle once more, Marrick was already by her side, bow abandoned and longsword unsheathed. Without hesitance, she did the same, drawing her shortsword and raising it between them and the wolf with both hands. Oriah wished sorely that she had brought her buckler along, but there was no way either of them could have foreseen this, and carrying around the shield all day was a burden she tried her best to avoid.

The Benshira nodded in response to her companion's question. "I am unhurt." For now, at least. She stole a glance up and was dismayed to see there were three more wolves at the crest of the ravine. One remained watching while the other two paced back and forth, snarling and growling in frustration. She had no doubts that sooner or later they would decide to come down and aid their brethren.

Suddenly, the squire beside her shouted in defiance. It made Oriah jump, thinking something was about to attack, only to hear the words that followed and force her nerves to calm once more. It had sounded almost like Marrick had been defying an enemy other than the wolf, but this was neither the time nor place to speculate.

"Yahal willing," she breathed involuntarily, eyes glued on the growling wolf before them. It would have to be a close range battle, then. Their hands were too slick with mud to fire arrows and the quarters they were now confined in too narrow.

A small commotion drew her attention overhead. One of the wolves was starting to make its way down, slipping now and then and sending small rocks tumbling down into the muddy creek, but making sure progress nonetheless. Panic fluttered through Oriah's chest; if another were to join their lone opponent's ranks, their chances of survival would be heavily reduced.

"We must kill this one first," she whispered to her companion, eyes returning to focus on the now fully mobile wolf before them. "The mud will slow it. Perhaps we can attack it together."

With this said, Oriah took a small step to her right, still staying near her fellow squire but giving them some room to dodge and swing should the wolf attack first. Above them, the second wolf was making slow progress, backing up every time it lost too much purchase to try a new route. The other wolves continued prowling and keeping watch, looking for any other way or opening to dive into the fight.

The Benshira had taken about four or five steps away from her companion when the wolf snapped its maws and lunged forward. Oriah stopped dead in her tracks and raised her sword, ready to meet the feral beast head on. It would have made sense for it to attack her first, she being the smaller and weaker of the two, but wolf seemed to have an agenda of its own. It twisted left at the last tick, leaving Oriah's sword to swing at empty air, and made its way straight for Marrick.