
.
.
Dravite walked over the soggy patch of earth, his feet sinking into the soft soil leaving the prints of his bare feet wherever he went. He had been tracking a herd of wild goats for two bells and had so far failed to find them. The horse lord crouched down in what he thought must have been an old riverbed, one that filled up in the winter and lay bone dry in the summer. He looked at the fresh sets of tracks left in the drying mud and reached out to pick up a few strands of short, white hair. Dravite brought the hair to his nose and breathed in the scent; it didn't hold the same smell his goats back in Endrykas had, but he still felt he was on the right track.
The old riverbed was covered in tracks leading in all directions and as Dravite studied the hoof-prints, he couldn't help but feel he was being watched. The man stood up slowly and turned around, the small hairs on the nape of his neck prickling at the thought of being followed; perhaps this was how those poor goats felt? The man scanned the horizon slowly and glanced to his Strider, Cree, from the corner of his eye, looking for whatever it was that had caused his skin to crawl. He looked for warning signs; the way the horse's ears turned forwards, the silence of the birds that were usually all too happy to sing at this time of morning, and stillness across the plain.
Like a deer watching for the wolves, Dravite listened to the world; what would it tell him he wondered? Cree lowered his head and snapped up another mouthful of grass to demolish, seeming uninterested all of the sudden. Maybe, Dravite thought, it was just the wind, or perhaps he wasn't the only predator following the goat trail this morning. "It would be wise to take the high ground," Dravite told himself, mouthing the words, scarcely giving them life.
Something rustled up ahead of him suddenly in the grass, drawing the man's eye. He raised his spear to shoulder height, fist closed tightly around the body of the weapon. He had a tight grip, the clumsy hold of a beginner, but a stance that made him ready none the less. Lining up a shot, he waited a few ticks longer and then launched his spear towards the shifting grass. The weapon flew through the air and hit the ground with a thud, rather than piercing the earth like he might have first expected. The man froze, focusing all his attention at the area he had seen movement, a hand reaching slowly for the dagger on his black, leather belt; just in case.
His racing heartbeat thudded in his ears and Dravite felt his stomach twist and sink as the anticipation built. "Shyke!" He yelled as the sound moved closer and then a rabbit darted into the clearing from the tall grass, giving both man and Strider a huge fright that made them step back a few paces. Dravite felt hot in the face but managed to laugh it off. Poor Cree on the other hand looked as if he had seen a ghost, eyes wide, tail up and turned on itself. "Easy, boy," Dravite cooed gently as he edged towards the large Strider. He put his hand on the animal's neck and rubbed the tense neck muscles until he felt them relax, "just a rabbit, nothing to be afraid of."
.
20 Summer, 515 AV
Morning, 7th Bell
Morning, 7th Bell
Dravite walked over the soggy patch of earth, his feet sinking into the soft soil leaving the prints of his bare feet wherever he went. He had been tracking a herd of wild goats for two bells and had so far failed to find them. The horse lord crouched down in what he thought must have been an old riverbed, one that filled up in the winter and lay bone dry in the summer. He looked at the fresh sets of tracks left in the drying mud and reached out to pick up a few strands of short, white hair. Dravite brought the hair to his nose and breathed in the scent; it didn't hold the same smell his goats back in Endrykas had, but he still felt he was on the right track.
The old riverbed was covered in tracks leading in all directions and as Dravite studied the hoof-prints, he couldn't help but feel he was being watched. The man stood up slowly and turned around, the small hairs on the nape of his neck prickling at the thought of being followed; perhaps this was how those poor goats felt? The man scanned the horizon slowly and glanced to his Strider, Cree, from the corner of his eye, looking for whatever it was that had caused his skin to crawl. He looked for warning signs; the way the horse's ears turned forwards, the silence of the birds that were usually all too happy to sing at this time of morning, and stillness across the plain.
Like a deer watching for the wolves, Dravite listened to the world; what would it tell him he wondered? Cree lowered his head and snapped up another mouthful of grass to demolish, seeming uninterested all of the sudden. Maybe, Dravite thought, it was just the wind, or perhaps he wasn't the only predator following the goat trail this morning. "It would be wise to take the high ground," Dravite told himself, mouthing the words, scarcely giving them life.
Something rustled up ahead of him suddenly in the grass, drawing the man's eye. He raised his spear to shoulder height, fist closed tightly around the body of the weapon. He had a tight grip, the clumsy hold of a beginner, but a stance that made him ready none the less. Lining up a shot, he waited a few ticks longer and then launched his spear towards the shifting grass. The weapon flew through the air and hit the ground with a thud, rather than piercing the earth like he might have first expected. The man froze, focusing all his attention at the area he had seen movement, a hand reaching slowly for the dagger on his black, leather belt; just in case.
His racing heartbeat thudded in his ears and Dravite felt his stomach twist and sink as the anticipation built. "Shyke!" He yelled as the sound moved closer and then a rabbit darted into the clearing from the tall grass, giving both man and Strider a huge fright that made them step back a few paces. Dravite felt hot in the face but managed to laugh it off. Poor Cree on the other hand looked as if he had seen a ghost, eyes wide, tail up and turned on itself. "Easy, boy," Dravite cooed gently as he edged towards the large Strider. He put his hand on the animal's neck and rubbed the tense neck muscles until he felt them relax, "just a rabbit, nothing to be afraid of."
