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Being flown to Thunder Bay was one thing: beginning your journey high in the Sanikas Valley and watching it spread out beneath you, watching the mountains retreat on either side and then fade away as the river below weaved and wound it's way through undulating grasslands until it burst it's way into the sea; that was impressive enough. This journey though had been something else. They had flown higher than mountains; Jensen had casually explained to them the invisible updrafts of air as the wind crashed into the rocky slopes below and was deflected upwards, and the heat that rose from even the dormant volcanoes to make the air turbulent. Jensen and Cetan had navigated through them with effortless ease; a stab of envy had rushed through him, realising that he would never have that kind of instinctive bond between rider and beast, neither Wind Eagle or Strider.
Then they had swept low, racing their way down another valley, one that Jensen had explained was frequented by the hunters. Zhol didn't question it; he knew how irritating it could be for a passenger to question the route that a rider had chosen, and a few minutes later he received his answer. Ground gave way to beach, and then sea, and their path had swung out into a broad arc, Cetan granting them a breathtaking view of Kalea as they chased alongside the coast, low enough to feel the spray of the sea at times, before swerving sharply back towards land to dive up another valley as fast as Cetan's wings could carry them.
Zhol was utterly lost; he didn't care. This was Kalea. This was the unforgiving wilderness he had spent seasons traversing across. There it was, rolling away beneath him, days of travel reduced to mere chimes.
When they had landed; when Jensen and Cetan had deposited them on the ground once again, and bid their temporary farewells, Zhol was devastated to see them go. The ground had never felt so firm beneath his feet; the air had never felt so oppressively heavy and still. Today was a rarity, he knew that. This trip might be the only time he had the opportunity to experience such things, especially with so gracious an eagle and rider. It was an experience he should be cherishing, taking the time to dwell upon and truly appreciate; and yet, to his mind, fifteenth bell tomorrow could not come soon enough.
He squinted at Syna. They were still on the western coast of Kalea, which meant that the sun would set towards the foot of the valley just as it did back in Wind Reach; that came as a small relief. Time would be far harder to judge if Syna had disappeared behind the mountains already. Fifteenth bell. He repeated that in his mind; when Syna is half-way between noon and the horizon. That gave them most of a day in each direction, and a night of survival in the valley between.
His eyes fell to their surroundings, a short way from one of the patches of woodland that sprawled across the banks of this valley's river. He wondered if it had a name already, or if he and Khara might have the opportunity to name it; that thought was relegated to the back of his mind, to be contemplated when they stopped to eat or sleep, not in the midsts of an important task for the city. They were here to reconnoiter for fresh herds that the Endals would return to hunt later, sparing the beasts closer to the city and allowing their populations to reassert themselves. Flying over the grasslands lower in the valley, they had already witnessed a few clusters of animals; Khara and Zhol were not needed for that, such things could - and had been - easily spotted from the air. They were here to search the woodlands, and the higher reaches of the valley where eagles would find it harder to fly low, and Endal eyes would struggle to spot potential prey beneath them.
Zhol couldn't help a small smile; and couldn't help wondering if this was how Khara felt all the time. This was useful. This task had an undeniable benefit to the city. This wasn't training animals that the Inarta couldn't care less about; he was helping Wind Reach by searching for food. No wonder Khara found such satisfaction and fulfilment in this; it was a good feeling, to not be essentially useless for a change.
"What am we first doing?" he asked; it was their ongoing half-spoken agreement that, while Khara spoke Common when they were together as friends and more, when Zhol encroached upon her work it was he who made the effort, doing his best to speak and understand Nari so that Khara did not have to waste thought or effort on translating her words. Zhol over-reached, trying to offer the same kind of reassurance and support that he would in Common through the medium of broken, simplistic Nari. "I am do instructions of yours. You am the octopus."
Zhol's eyes widened in panic. "In charge!" he blurted out, cheeks turning pink at the mistaken word. "You am the in charge."
Being flown to Thunder Bay was one thing: beginning your journey high in the Sanikas Valley and watching it spread out beneath you, watching the mountains retreat on either side and then fade away as the river below weaved and wound it's way through undulating grasslands until it burst it's way into the sea; that was impressive enough. This journey though had been something else. They had flown higher than mountains; Jensen had casually explained to them the invisible updrafts of air as the wind crashed into the rocky slopes below and was deflected upwards, and the heat that rose from even the dormant volcanoes to make the air turbulent. Jensen and Cetan had navigated through them with effortless ease; a stab of envy had rushed through him, realising that he would never have that kind of instinctive bond between rider and beast, neither Wind Eagle or Strider.
Then they had swept low, racing their way down another valley, one that Jensen had explained was frequented by the hunters. Zhol didn't question it; he knew how irritating it could be for a passenger to question the route that a rider had chosen, and a few minutes later he received his answer. Ground gave way to beach, and then sea, and their path had swung out into a broad arc, Cetan granting them a breathtaking view of Kalea as they chased alongside the coast, low enough to feel the spray of the sea at times, before swerving sharply back towards land to dive up another valley as fast as Cetan's wings could carry them.
Zhol was utterly lost; he didn't care. This was Kalea. This was the unforgiving wilderness he had spent seasons traversing across. There it was, rolling away beneath him, days of travel reduced to mere chimes.
When they had landed; when Jensen and Cetan had deposited them on the ground once again, and bid their temporary farewells, Zhol was devastated to see them go. The ground had never felt so firm beneath his feet; the air had never felt so oppressively heavy and still. Today was a rarity, he knew that. This trip might be the only time he had the opportunity to experience such things, especially with so gracious an eagle and rider. It was an experience he should be cherishing, taking the time to dwell upon and truly appreciate; and yet, to his mind, fifteenth bell tomorrow could not come soon enough.
He squinted at Syna. They were still on the western coast of Kalea, which meant that the sun would set towards the foot of the valley just as it did back in Wind Reach; that came as a small relief. Time would be far harder to judge if Syna had disappeared behind the mountains already. Fifteenth bell. He repeated that in his mind; when Syna is half-way between noon and the horizon. That gave them most of a day in each direction, and a night of survival in the valley between.
His eyes fell to their surroundings, a short way from one of the patches of woodland that sprawled across the banks of this valley's river. He wondered if it had a name already, or if he and Khara might have the opportunity to name it; that thought was relegated to the back of his mind, to be contemplated when they stopped to eat or sleep, not in the midsts of an important task for the city. They were here to reconnoiter for fresh herds that the Endals would return to hunt later, sparing the beasts closer to the city and allowing their populations to reassert themselves. Flying over the grasslands lower in the valley, they had already witnessed a few clusters of animals; Khara and Zhol were not needed for that, such things could - and had been - easily spotted from the air. They were here to search the woodlands, and the higher reaches of the valley where eagles would find it harder to fly low, and Endal eyes would struggle to spot potential prey beneath them.
Zhol couldn't help a small smile; and couldn't help wondering if this was how Khara felt all the time. This was useful. This task had an undeniable benefit to the city. This wasn't training animals that the Inarta couldn't care less about; he was helping Wind Reach by searching for food. No wonder Khara found such satisfaction and fulfilment in this; it was a good feeling, to not be essentially useless for a change.
"What am we first doing?" he asked; it was their ongoing half-spoken agreement that, while Khara spoke Common when they were together as friends and more, when Zhol encroached upon her work it was he who made the effort, doing his best to speak and understand Nari so that Khara did not have to waste thought or effort on translating her words. Zhol over-reached, trying to offer the same kind of reassurance and support that he would in Common through the medium of broken, simplistic Nari. "I am do instructions of yours. You am the octopus."
Zhol's eyes widened in panic. "In charge!" he blurted out, cheeks turning pink at the mistaken word. "You am the in charge."
"Pavi" | "Common" | "Nari" | "Symenos"
Dad Thoughts | Dinah Thoughts | Khara Thoughts
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This template was made by Khara, the letter Q, and the numbers 87 and 13.