Open Déjà Voodoo

[Dravite]

41 Summer, 515 AV
Morning, 7th Bell

It is true that not all Drykas reside within the city of Endrykas. Some choose to live and die beyond the borders, visiting the city only to trade before the coming season or see to it that their sick are tended to by healers. But just because they don't reside within the city, doesn't make them any less important to the community as a whole. This The Watch teaches each and every one their members as part of the code they work by. So when he woke that morning from sleep or something that felt much the same, Dravite could never have imagined this was the way he would be spending his day.

● ● ●

The members of The Watch charged towards the campsite on horseback in the formation of a wave, like the rolling tide, desperate to catch up with the thieves they had sensed in the webbing. A woman screamed hysterically, clutching her wounded husband with one arm and pointing in the direction their attackers had escaped through the tall grass. "They took the livestock and the horses!" Her son bellowed.

Two Watch members stayed with the small pavilion to gather information and help tend to the wounded man while the rest rode on, their Strider's cutting through the tall grass like a well sharpened knife. "I see them!" Someone called from down the line and Dravite searched the horizon quickly to spot them, not two hundred metres ahead, struggling to keep the Striders moving on the backs of their wild, mountain steeds.

Dravite called for Cree to hurry in Pavi and the horse, seeming to understand the words, galloped towards the stolen mounts doing his best to catch up with some of the other, more experienced riders. As the two groups collided, Watch members and bandits, there was a clash of steel and a flurry of arrows. Dravite, surprisingly uninjured in the thick of it all, managed to steer his Strider free of the bucking herd and shot like a newly released arrow, towards one of the thieves that had escaped on foot.

As Cree thundered across the plain, the horse gave a wild war-cry that saw the bandit glance back over his shoulder, just as Dravite raised his right foot to boot the man in the face. He went down and once Cree slowed and finally turned back, Dravite was able to see that the man, while shaken with a face full of dirt, was not out for the count. The horse lord pointed his spear and kicked Cree's sides, demanding he charge the man. Cree reared up, forcing Dravite to clutch a fistful of black mane in order to stay on and once again the two were off, speeding flat-tack towards their target.

From horseback, Dravite jabbed the point of his spear into the man's shoulder, missing his face as he had aimed for, and jumped from his horse to engage the man in one on one combat. Weaponless, the bandit ripped the spear from his shoulder and swung his fist at Dravite, who was able to leap back out of striking range, taking his spear with him. The thief looked foreign, but Dravite couldn't tell which race he might have belonged to. Either way, he would die for attacking the Drykas family and attempting to steal their horses and Zibri.

.
.
.

[Dravite]

The bandit roared and charged towards Dravite who raised his spear, jabbing it forward to graze the man's thigh; a poor defensive attack, but one that managed to slow the other down all the same. The two stood a spear length apart, Dravite readying to protect himself from another attack while the other man clutched his shoulder and spat. "Fight me like a man, horse-scum!" In the common tongue, of which he seemed quite fluent.

Dravite ignored the words, adrenaline pulsing through his limbs, telling him to be careful and not let words disgrace him. "Put spear down!" The bandit yelled again, this time in Pavi, albeit poor, the words caused Dravite to pause. "Fight me man to man!" The thief hissed, spotting that he had managed to catch the horse lord off guard with his knowledge of the Drykas language.

Cree nickered from behind him as Dravite glanced past the bandit to his back up. Dravite held up his hand to the two Watch members and called. "He is mine!"

He tossed his spear over the man's head, who ducked and spun round as if tempted to chase after the weapon and claim it for himself when he noticed one of the other Watch members pick it up. Before he could look back, Dravite had already lunged at the man, putting him flat on his back. The bandit closed a hand around Dravite's neck to hold him off while he blinding reached for the dagger on the horse lord’s belt. Dravite buried his thumb in the wound on the thief's shoulder, causing him to cry out in pain, fingers curled into a tight fist about the man's black, leather belt.

Dravite closed his hand around the bandits wrist to stop him from taking a weapon and tried to wrestle free of the man's hold around his neck, using his knee to crush a relatively sensitive body part. Failing this, Dravite took his steel dagger and clumsily drew it past the man's elbow, cutting the thin layer of flesh before the bone. Instantly the bandit drew his hand away from Dravite's neck, allowing the horse lord to break free and get to his feet, putting some space between them again. "Cheat!" The thief cried, "Cheating, filthy dog! Fight me like a man!"

A growl rolled in Dravite's throat, why should he award this man such an honour when he had injured one of the Drykas people and stolen from them. "Weak!" The bandit spat and struggled to his feet.

He threw his dagger aside to one of The Watch members, followed by the small hatchet he also kept on his belt and pinned the man with his smoke-grey stare. "Not cheat," Dravite spoke in the little common he knew and grit his teeth, "horse thief is only cheat here!"

The two collided then as the bandit rushed forward with nothing to lose that The Watch hadn't silently promised to take from him already. He got Dravite to ground and the two struggled for power, just as Dravite had practiced with friends when he was a boy, wrestling his opponent away from him using the strength of his arms and muscular legs. The much leaner thief had to use his cunning if he had any chance of grappling successfully with the taller, beefier horse lord. He kneed Dravite in the stomach and went for his neck again, trying desperately to strangle the life from his foe.

Dravite strained his neck muscle and thumped the man in the side, to little avail. Quickly growing red in the face and fast running out of options, Dravite raised his hands, pressing the points of his thumbs into the thief's eye sockets until he felt the slimy orbs pop like cherry tomatoes between his teeth. The bandit’s painful cry was deafening and as he reached up to clutch at his face, Dravite rolled onto his hands and knees, coughing and gasping for the air his lungs had been momentarily denied.

.
.
.

[Dravite]

"Finish him!" One of the members of The Watch called.
"Kill him, Dravite!" Another encouraged.

Dravite reached for the man's hair and slammed his face into the earth. The blinded bandit pushed away from the ground to try and get to his feet, but the horse lord had been expecting that and quickly wrestled the man onto his back, trapping his arms under folded knees so that he could not deal the same fate Dravite had gifted him. Burly fingers closed around the bandit’s neck, but Dravite, having never strangled a man before or even attempted such, struggled to choke the windpipe with the ease in which the thief had found his. The death was slow, almost cruel, and not being sure he was done when the thief’s body went limp, Dravite took his spear back from one of the Watch members and stabbed the dead man in the chest, not once, but twice; until blood raced from the open stab wound like a waking volcano.

His hands were shaking, barely holding the bone spear that had dealt the death wound, arms scarcely feeling the encouraging whacks from the other members of The Watch as they reached out to congratulate him on his kill. His heart was pounding, beating hard in his chest, which rose and fell quickly still as he tried to catch his breath. His neck hurt and would probably bruise before nightfall, but was nothing to threat about. Dravite didn't feel any stronger for taking a life, in fact, he felt quite the opposite, weak and almost detached from the experience, as if he had watched someone else who was not himself committing the act. How strange, he thought, that he had resorted to violence like that when he had always been a man of words.

"Well fought," a woman smiled as she pat him on the back; she was one of the Watch's best archers, though it was only rumoured, "come, we should get the livestock back to the family and debrief Aris the Tavehk."

Dravite collected his weapons and secured both his dagger and the hatchet on his belt before kneeling beside the thief to turn out the dead man's pockets and take whatever loot he found. He pat the man down for any hidden weapons and then returned to his Strider, pulling himself up onto the animal's back without too much trouble. As he rode away to help The Watch round up the small, scattered herd of Zibri and frightened horses, he looked back over his left shoulder at the bloody corpse he had abandoned to the harsh grasslands and frowned; a sight he would not find easily forgotten.

The Zibri were not so simply tamed and kept darting in the wrong direction, calling to each other, confused, and bellowing whenever they were pushed back in line by the men and women of The Watch. Dravite found the expertise rather entertaining and it seemed even Cree was enjoying the light-hearted mission. Dravite steered his horse left and called out to the Zibri, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth to keep them from dashing past him. Soon, all the animals were rounded up and escorted back to the pavilion they had been stolen from.

.
.
.

[Dravite]

When they returned they found that the wounded Drykas man had passed due to the stab wound to his gut where one of the bandits had cut him with a dagger. His wife slumped over him sobbing and Aris stood with his head bowed; there had been little he could do to prevent the death and it seemed to register now in the way he held himself. The woman's oldest son thanked them all for returning the horses and Zibri to them and Dravite sat quietly one Cree's back, still contemplating the events that had unfolded. When he finally dismounted, Dravite helped the others scan the area for anything they might have missed before settling down in the long grass to consult the web.

He found it difficult to trance, images of the fight still fresh and playing over and over again in his mind. He had picked a dangerous profession and today was his first taste of just how harmful it could be. What if the man had managed to get a hold of his dagger, or even strangled him? Quick thinking had saved his life, but it could just as quickly put an end it; what would his wife and child do then without him, how would they survive?

Soon glimpses of the Drykas webbing came into view and Dravite extended his spiritual reach to the tinted thread, following it until he had managed to slip into a deep trance. The webbing had stored the memories of all that had gone on this morning, the gang of five bandits sneaking up on the unsuspecting pavilion, the bandy legged thief losing his dagger to the husband of the still sobbing woman, and the way in which the family had tried to fight back; helpless without their Striders.

Following the webbing further, Dravite managed to spot something that one of the thieves had dropped during their escape. He opened his eyes, coming out of his trance to get to his feet and retrace his footsteps back to camp, using this as the starting point for his search. He looked east of the camp, sure of the direction due to the position of the rising sun and spotted a set of tracks left by man; some of them ruined by the widespread Zibri tracks strewn over top of them. He walked a few paces further and spotted it there in the grass, a broken gold chain that had been ripped from the crying woman's neck; threaded with a small, red jewel.

The horse lord bent to pick up the piece of jewellery and turned the stone over in his hand, surmising that his pavilion was of the Ruby Clan, or perhaps had some attachment to it. He returned to the camp clutching the necklace gently and opened the woman's hand to set it down in her palm. She looked at the necklace and stilled like a deer listening for the hunter's footfalls before the unexpected strike. "By the gods," the woman whispered, "thank you," she mouthed and kissed the back of Dravite's hands.

He stepped back and darted the tip of his tongue over dry lips before pointing his stare at Aris, who seemed to almost smile at the gesture of the returned item. "To your horses," he ordered them suddenly, "I will see you all back in Endrykas. If anyone needs to see a healer, do so before you return."

The ride back to Endrykas was slow. Dravite was too lost in his own thoughts to concentrate too much on the road ahead. He couldn't chase the final moments of the thief's life from his mind, the memory haunting him already. Perhaps, he thought, he should go see one of the healers to escape debriefing for a time; though there were no physical signs of damage, other than the red markings around his neck, the mental scars left for taking a life was something no one could have prepared him for.

.
.
.

[Dravite]

Sadara closed a hand over the man's temple as he sat. Her fingers were cold, which came as a relief the man who had convinced himself he was probably just suffering from sunstroke. "And then what happened?" Sadara inquired.
"I found the woman's necklace in the grass," Dravite smiled. "It probably didn't offer much comfort, but I saw no reason in leaving it for the grass to swallow or someone else to find."
"No, that was very kind," the raven haired herbalist smiled.

She set her thumb under the man's chin and tipped his head back to take a closer look at the marks on his neck. "How does that fell?" Sadara asked, touching different points around the horse lord's throat.
"Fine, it doesn't really hurt," he admitted, "not as much as my head."
Sadara closed her hand over Dravite's forehead again and he closed his eyes. "On a scale of one to ten, how bad is your headache?"
"Seven," he told her, "It seems to have come out of nowhere."
"I'll get my assistant to boil some herbs for you. I want you to breathe them in. They might make you feel a little lightheaded at first but it should help to ease your headache."
"All right, thank you, Sadara."
"My pleasure, Dravite," the woman smiled, pat him on the shoulder and then left to fetch her assistant.

The River Flower seemed busy today, so Dravite understood why he would be left to one of the assistants instead of having Sadara to fix him up, besides, no one ever died of a headache, right? Half a bell passed before the young woman was at his side with the boiled water and pinch of herbs. She set the bowl of water down in front of him and sprinkled the herbs into the bowl. "Just lean forward and breathe in the steam for a chime, I'll be back in just a tick."

Dravite did as he was told, breathing in the strong, earthy scent that made his eyes water and his nose run. After a few deep inhales he couldn't stand the stuff anymore and blew out a breath to cast the steam away from him as he sat back. The assistant rushed into the room and covered her mouth when she saw the man before lowering her hands to bite her lower lip. "I am so sorry!" She cried.
Dravite sat up and looked at her quizzically. "Its fine, you weren't gone long and I--"
She interrupted him mid-sentence. "I gave you the wrong herb!"

Dravite pushed his hair back from his face and stared dumbly at the woman.

"Voodoo Moss... It's a strong hallucinogenic."
"A what?" Dravite barked at her.
"We give it to people in a lot of pain, usually after limb removal or--"
"What's going to happen to me?" Dravite interjected.

The assistant squeaked and ran out to fetch Sadara. Dravite pushed the bowl of boiling water away from him and got to his feet, trust this to happen! He should have just gone to work, he told himself and marched from the tent to make his way outside for some fresh air.

.
.
.

[Dravite]

So far so good, Dravite told himself, at least his headache was gone and any eye strain he had felt had disappeared with it. That was odd, the man cringed, he didn't feel anything, just a numbness creeping up his limbs from the end of his toes and fingers to the tip of his nose. "I'm fine," he said aloud and held his eyes open as they seemed to be narrowing of their own accord, "just fine."

He walked away through the busy crowd outside The River Flower and stumbled over what looked to be a large tree root that had wound its way across the street since he had been inside. Which way is home? Dravite asked himself, pointing his stare at the sun, shocked to find that the White and yellow disk in the sky was now black, as were the clouds gathering overhead. The horse lord blew a sigh past his lips and ran the back of his hand over his forehead to wipe the sweat from his brow. "When did it get so hot?"

The man pushed on through the crowd, black and white specks attacking the edge of his vision, causing him to stop and rub his eyes with clenched fists. When he opened them again, the ground at his feet was awash with snakes, so thick that it seemed the earth was breathing. Dravite fell back on his hands and crawled from the scene, fighting the snakes off of him. "Hey!" A man bellowed, and ripped one of the snakes away from his legs, "you crazy fool! You've tangled all my rope!"

Dravite shook his head and the snakes were gone, sure enough, the man had been right, it was just rope. "I'm so sorry!" Dravite apologised quickly and moved to help the man collect the rope.

As the merchant bent down to gather his gear, Dravite shot backwards as if he had just fallen out of a chair. "Two heads!" The horse lord gasped, "Why do you have two heads?"

The merchant turned to look at Dravite as if he had gone completely mad, that's when Dravite realised that the man was missing his eyes; gouged out of his head. Dravite lashed out, catching the man square against the shoulder with a powerful kick. "Get away from me!" He shouted, scrambling to his feet to race from the area.

Dravite ran and ran until his legs refused to carry him any further, the muscles burning as he came to stand at the edge of town. Ahead of him, the lush, green tall grass was on fire, but the flames were not like the kind he had ever seen before, burning a bright green and yellow. Slowly, he walked out onto the plain through the fire, flames jumping up to lick at the tips of his burly fingers. They were cool to the touch and hot underfoot. He didn't know how far or for how long he had wandered away from the borders of Endrykas, but when he looked back over his shoulder the city of tents was nowhere to be seen.

.
.
.

[Rufio]

　　　　Rufio felt sweat lick across the nape of her delicate neck as her toughened arms worked to harvest a particularly stubborn clump of Knotweed—a bamboo-like plant. At first she had tried to use her knife to cut into the thick stem, alas the blade was poorly designed for it. What she really needed was a kopis, then she could whack away to heart's content. Rufio made a mental note to seek one next time at market.
　　　　The Drykas Mixed-Blood had set out early that morning to forage for food and gather herbs with her faithful companion Sakita. The Zavian-mix mare was grazing languidly not far away, her fair buckskin hide blending well into the Summer grasses if not for the white-leopard-dotted splash across her rump.
　　　　Rufio growled angrily, her face contorting with effort as she gripped the hacked-at-stem with her rough, calloused hands and leant back, pulling with all her might. No avail, the stem stood fast, defiantly, and the woman let go. A loud sigh was forced from her generous lips. "Hmhh, think you're a tough guy, huh?" Her dark eyes glared childishly at the plant from within a heavily freckled face.
　　　　The mare, Sakita, raised her head to peer at her owner with an incredulous look, her ears laid back, augmenting her long face. And what a sight the Drykas woman was. Her blue wool overalls covered in soil, as were her hands, even her cheeks hadn't escaped a smudging, and there she was conversing with the flora.
　　　　　　　　Rufio's natural state of being.
　　　　She glanced over at her mare, and barked "What?!" Sakita nickered, as if in response, then plodded over to her, mistaking the harsh tone for a signal to 'come'. Rufio turned her gaze to the knotweed again. Thinking, thinking, thinking. The horse nudged her right elbow with its fuzzy nose, and the woman sighed, acquiescing the horse a scratch behind her ears. "Yeah, you're right, it's no use without the proper tools. We'll head back to the city-"
　　　　Finishing her affection-giving, Rufio scrunched her face up at the stalk that had defeated her meager knife and foraging know-how. "-don't think you've won. We'll be back." Taking a strip of soft-hide tucked into her overall pocket, the aspiring herbalist tied it around the knotweed, leaving it long enough to flap in the wind.
　　　　Before she gripped Sakita's yvas, and hauled her small frame up onto her sturdy back. The mare neighed suddenly, and teetered about on the spot, her nose pointed out towards the depths of the Sea Of Grass. Rufio laid a calming hand on the mare's neck, and queried with furrowed brow. "What is it Sa?" Following the horse's gaze, she spotted a man. An intangible wave of Déjà-vu swept over her.
　　　　Though she didn't know why-for. She squinted her eyes to see him better. Whoever he was, he had no horse, she noticed. Concern etched a frown into her face. Sakita pawed the ground anxiously. Rufio urged her into a walk. "C'mon, we'll see what this is about..." The mare paced slowly, cautious as its rider, angling diagonally towards the man to his right. Though she kept some distance off, he could be a foreigner, a bandit, after all.
　　　　As he came into clearer sight, she recognized the wanderer—Dravite Blackwater! Her memory flooded with their encounter in the tented cit where she had managed to persuade him to let her read his fortune...
　　　　　Empty eyes; lost Self.
　　　　　　Abandoned prayers.
　　　　　　　Violent death to follow.
　　　　Eager to greet the man who she had predicted foreboding tidings to, Rufio urged Sakita onward, then halted the mare in her tracks. Sakita stomped irritably, but Rufio was too absorbed by the way the man was moving to notice. Something was wrong, off. He was walking as if not truly here, like those that wandered while they slept. Worry churned in her gut. Dravite, a man of the Watch, was usually so alert.
　　　　Rufio looked around them at the grass-land, empty and quiet. They were some distance from home. How on earth did he get out here without his strider? He was obviously hallucinating, but why, how? Was he ill, had he eaten something, was he stuck in a half-lucid-trance? The aspiring herbalist tried to recall if it were dangerous to wake those entranced from their dreams. She couldn't remember, and was afraid to try in case she did more harm than good. Or risk him doing harm to her! The man was a skilled warrior after all, and she was not.
　　　　A nagging urge tugged at her to hasten to Endrykas and bring a healer to him. "It's no use." She reasoned, he could wander farther from here by time they returned, and Rufio daren't leave him alone. Anything could happen in the Sea of Grass, and the Watch-rider's wits were off-kilter. There was nothing else for it. She nudged Sakita into a slow, careful walk parallel to Dravite's path, maintaining a short distance from the man. Rufio would keep watch over him until she could determine whether his state was safe for her to approach, for either of them. Or until he woke, or passed out. She sent a silent prayer to her gods for it to be one of the former.
　　　　
　　　　

[Dravite]

And just like that the man wandered without sense of time, place, or self. He had forgotten where he was going and where he had come from, unable to recall the events of the day leading to now. In his stupor he had seen some of the strangest things. Presently, Dravite was wandering towards a handful of trees scattered ahead of him, beyond the tall grass he worked to wade through with arms stretched out in front of him like those of an octopus; seemingly boneless in their fluid, graceful actions.

Ahead of him, the smallest of the trees loomed, merely a sapling that had just found its feet during the spring, now baked and thinned under the intense summer heat and Syna's light. Though any onlooker would see just that, a tree; Dravite saw much, much more. He stopped, smoke-grey gaze set on the plant, fixed and unmoving; he stood like a stork hunting fish in a shallow pond, frozen and awaiting the perfect moment to strike.

Up ahead of him stood one of the queerest creatures he had ever seen, a white tailed deer with a tar-black coat and broad chest that made him look almost proud. Dravite watched as the animal moved nearer to him without fear. Atop his head he wore a crown of antlers, but rather than sharp, elegant points, in their place were an array of hands, all with moving fingers that beckoned the wary hunter closer. "Come," the deer spoke in perfect Pavi, "I have something to show you."

Dravite moved closer to the animal, watching with wild eyes as beckoning limbs encouraged his every step. The fingers were hypnotic in their movements, like the arms of an exotic dancer, causing the man's eyes to grow heavy. He blinked once, twice, and before he knew it he was entangled in the animal's horns, grabbed at by their reaching hands that seemed to pull him in.

"Get off me!" Dravite yelled, fighting with the branches of the tree, "let go of me!" He insisted, grappling with the leafless branches until they snapped and gave way below him, the man going to ground like a falling wall of loose bricks. When he met the earth, the tall grass cushioned the blow, and Dravite rolled onto his back to stare up at the blue sky through the maze of black branches. Odd, he thought, what had happened to that strange deer he was so sure had been there?

His forearms were covered in light grazes and somewhere along the line he had even managed to cut his knee, perhaps on a rock hidden beneath the grass. Of course, he didn't feel the pain, not yet anyway, but he would probably wonder what in the world had happened to him this time tomorrow. As he lay there in the grass he could have sworn he heard the unamused sigh of a Strider, which saw the man sit up. "Cree?" He called, figuring it was his horse who must have followed him out into the wilds; that was when he finally set eyes on Rufio.

.
.
.

[Rufio]

　

　　　　Dravite's watchful keeper halted her horse as he approached the trees. She dismounted, when he seemed to have halted, holding her equine companion's neck. "Stay." She commanded. The horse's ears were twitching, and she stared at the man ahead just as Rufio did, uncertainly.
　　　　With tentative steps, her sandal-clad feet making barely any noise, the Mix-blood began to approach the drugged man. Until he began grappling with the tangling branches of the tree he was leering at. "Get off me!" Startled, Rufio's eyes widened and she halted in her steps. What the heck was he seeing?!
　　　　Whatever it was, compassion and a sense of responsibility for his safety saw her rush forward to stop him thrashing. There wasn't the need, he landed with a thud on his back. Rufio's feet were planted hesitantly a half score of steps away. Her horse, curious, had plodded up beside her, snorting loudly.
　　　　Rufio bumped the mare's side with her body as she grumbled. "I told you to stay." Rufio took a few steps towards Dravite where he sat. The beginnings of an amused smile licked along her lips as Dravite's gaze set on her. "Yo, Dravite, are you often offended by trees?" Rufio found herself funny, regardless if others did or didn't, and she chuckled. Though compassionate at heart, and concerned the man might not recognise her in his state, her chuckle faded as quick as it had lilted off her lips. She inquired, with a more appropriate modicum of compassion. "Dravite? She wondered how lucid he was, if he knew where he was, or even who he was. "Are you alright?"
　　　　The Mixed-blood and mare stood staring at him. The first a warm combination of humour and concern, the latter purely nosy, and staring at him as though he was a mad-man.

　

[Dravite]

This was getting old quickly, bouts of insanity troubled by these fleeting moments of consciousness. "R..." The name was on the tip of his tongue, but the man couldn't decide which name matched the face; he had seen her somewhere recently. Dravite closed his eyes to think, thoughts disrupted by the strange visions he had experienced while under the influence of the Voodoo Moss. When he opened his eyes to look at Rufio and her mount, what he saw now in comparison to what he had seen only moments ago caused him to start, as if Zulrav had had touch his heart; sending a bolt of lightning through him.

And there was that towering stag again, fifty hands reaching for him in unison. Dravite let out a panicked shout and rolled away from the tree, on his feet faster than a fox fixed on escaping the henhouse at the sound of the farmer's angry roar. He ran from the pair, the cloaked night-terror from childhood dreams and his riding wolf, right-smack into another tree; this just wasn't the young horse lord's day. The impact wasn't too bad, but a low hanging branch had slapped him right where it hurts. If any gods were watching, no doubt they were all in stitches right now.

He rolled around like cat in a bed of Nepeta, momentarily clutching the area he was experiencing the most pain, before recalling that there were bigger matters to worry about; the man and his giant wolf, the stag and its reaching hands, and the green-yellow fire that spread all around him. Again, up and on his feet, Dravite's legs carried him as quickly as they would go, taking him beyond the handful of trees and further out into the wild lands of the Sea of Grass. It wasn’t long before he grew tired, and wondered if the strange group of beasts were still pursuing him.

Glancing back over his left shoulder to look behind him, Dravite didn't notice the small body of water set in a pool of mud; its source diminished over the last few days by the good weather. When he felt the mud, wet between his toes, his attention pointed ahead of him to the pool he desperately fought to stay out of now, dancing on the spot like a fat man trying not to slip backwards; arms waving comically, feet betraying his mind's orders. They slipped out from beneath him and saw the man land on his backside, covering his only pair of pants with a thick helping of fresh grassland mud. He sidled into the shallow pond that reached up around his middle and sat there, wondering if this whole day could get any worse.

A handful of water met his face, self-inflicted splashing, and then a second, trying to wash the dazed and confused feeling from his being. The water must have helped, for as he looked ahead the sea was no longer on fire, and a bout of clarity took him, the woman's name suddenly finding breath as it formed in his mouth and raced past his lips, "Rufio!" He even managed a smile, “Did your cards tell you I was here?”

.
.
.