My, What Big Teeth You Have!

[Merevaika]

8th Winter 515

The snow had stopped falling long ago. Yesterday evening, it had started with the melting, first a muddy brown slush on the ground. Now, it had turned from the slush to ice, slippery and dangerous. Thankfully, Merevaika had not camped near any of it, only heard of the sheets of ice to be found north of the city. She would hate to come across any of it.

Unfortunately, ice was not all that was dangerous in the Sea of Grass. It encompassed deadly creatures, and it was a group of them that had caused this tragedy to befall the Drykas. Merevaika had been camping near a fairly wild looking pavilion, which had been drifting around the city for the current season. With Spearback attacks threatening, the pavilion had allowed the lone woman to camp a little closer to them. Of course, with this benefit, they expected her to help them where she could.

One of the places that she was required to help them was with this tragedy, and so she had been called around their rather empty campfire by a sobbing woman and her oldest son, who looked terribly concerned.

Cautiously, she crept near, making a sign for greeting. "What happened?" she dared to ask, and the woman cried even louder and violently. The man looked at her warning, and Merevaika scowled, wondering why she was called if they didn't want to talk to her. Finally, she managed to hear through the sobs.
"My son... wolves... you must kill them!"

Her other son deciphered the words for her, explaining in soft words, "My brother was taken by a pack of wolves. Please, we ask for you to take down this troublesome pack!"

They trusted her enough to ask her to kill wolves for them. Merevaika smiled slyly, pleased at the achievement. Oh, she would happily take them down. Right now. There was nothing stopping her, and the glory it would give her! She would be known as the woman who saved the boy from a pack of wild wolves, willing to risk her life for a stranger. The whole hunt would be fun. She smiled a little more, before replacing it with a frown, not wanting to appear pleased with the disappearance of a child.

"I would be happy to, she replied, slowly shuffling towards her own tent. They gave her thanks, and let her leave, almost running with excitement. She called up her Strider, while gathering her bow and arrows. She couldn't take her dogs though, not this time. She couldn't let them get hurt. Still, they scampered round her feet, eager to go for a run. Ignoring them, she continued to secure the yvas, getting it at the right tightness. All ready to leave. Time to hunt.

[Azmere]

What a dreadful start to the season! It had gotten so cold and then it poured rain from the sky. It was as if Zulrav lifted up the Suvan Sea and dumped it on top of the Sea of Grass. The result was a terrible mix of heavy mud, massive sheets of ice and very, very slow travel. Even Hephiestian, with his strong legs, was hindered within the dreadful mess. Azmere had gotten down almost two bells ago to walk and help lead the strider. The load was light since the river was all but frozen still and half of his traps were buried under chunks of ice and snow. Still, three fish and two rabbits wasn’t so terrible.

The duo was heading back to their camp behind the Whet Stone. The arrangement worked out mutually in that Azmere watched over the equipment that wasn’t carried off every night and he got a nice little spot between several large pavilions. Azmere wandered off from his pavilion on a regular basis. He helped provide for some of their needs by taking long trips for hunts, work and other various tasks. Stormblood was weakening as age, illness and the will of the gods picked at it from all sides. Azmere was rather torn by the entire mess. He had been raised as a young lad to be subordinate and submissive. Where else does the son of the third wife fit in his father’s pavilion?

After narrowly escaping death at the mouths of hungry glassbeaks, Azmere was changed. The scars made him a target and a distraction and only compounded his status as a bastard. He and his mother were sent packing. With nowhere left to go, they were taken in by Azmere’s grandfather, his mother’s father, Asmodeus. It was a shock to Azmere to learn that he had not been shown a thing about the world. He was nearly a teenager and hadn’t the slightest clue about what was expected of a man or how to achieve it. Asmodeus has taught Azmere a great deal of things including the respect for life and faith in Zulrav’s whimsical nature. Slowly but surely, the young man was starting to come around to the idea of being responsible for the weight of an entire family; a pavilion. However, Azmere’s biggest enemy was his own doubt.

These are the thoughts that accompanied Azmere as he trudged through the sloppy mess of what might have been a path. As he and his companion drew near to Endrykas, they passed a rugged pavilion where there was a woman sobbing and making indecipherable sounds. Azmere would normally stop and try to help but he had to get his food put back. Winter was just starting and he had much work to do. He was counting some things in his head when a sudden distraction left his figures in a bind. Out of a small tent, a tiny Luvanor Grassland Hunter came barrelling towards Azmere yipping and snarling as fiercely as a ten pound creature could. Azmere brushed his hand at the pup at first but through dogged persistence, he quickly became annoyed. When the pup managed to jump high enough to snatch a piece of rabbit meat, Azmere instinctively kicked at the dog and caught it right in the muzzle. A yelp followed by a whimper saw the creature return to its tent. Azmere felt bad, certainly, but it was meat that was most needed. Onward, he lead Hephiestian through the muck.

[Merevaika]

A man passed near her, with a beautiful, lean Strider, one she admired. The man wasn't too unattractive either, straight jaw and all. She smiled a greeting, laughing more about how Mika barged up to him, yipping with interest, but also warning. He jumped up and down, and Merevaika left them, placing her hands on Eryunt's withers in position to pull herself up.

Until she heard the yelp from Mika, and span round to see the puppy fleeing from the man who kicked him. Kicked him. Someone had dared to strike Mika, a small puppy, her puppy. He would pay. Merevaika stormed up to him, anger clear in her facial expression. An idiot, to do such a thing, especially in such close proximity to the owner. Did he not think she would care? Did he not realise how cruel this was?

She marched right up to him, inclining her head slightly. He was about a hand taller than herself, and several years older, and scarred all along the left side of his face. One eye gold, the other blue. Well built, more than likely to be able to beat her in a fight, even if he had no skill, like her. He was larger and looked stronger. That didn't affect what she did next, however, not at all.

Bringing her hand up, she brought it round, slapping him hard on the cheek. Her own hand stung and from the red mark on his face, that stung too. "How dare you hurt my dog!" she shrieked at him, "How dare you!" Her face was scowled, and she reached out to try slap him again, this time with more force. He deserved it. He deserved everything he got. Besides, he was wasting time which could be used to save a child. This slap would be hard, then she would leave. She had a hunt to go on. A child to save.

[Azmere]

Azmere hadn’t paid much attention to the people as he walked by tents. He was lost in his thoughts of the past and thinking of which meat he wanted to preserve and which one he wanted to cook. The puppy had been a brief flare of drama but it had passed quickly… so he thought. The sounds of boots stomping against the icy mud brought the contrasting irises up to meet the fierce gaze of the animal’s mother. The woman was a bit shorter than Azmere but not tiny. Lithe muscles tensed in her growing anger revealing graceful lines that accented her lean frame like a hunting cat in mid-stride. Azmere was caught for a minute staring at her vivid, green eyes which left him defenseless as she closed the distance between the two of them.

Azmere set his jaw at the last second and released Hephiestian because it was all he could do. The woman’s palm rang against his face and left a sharp sting but his head didn’t turn away. "How dare you hurt my dog!" Her voice floated out like the call of an eagle. Unable to hold his tongue, Azmere retorted with a sexist insult common among the Eypharian people. “Khur-va!” His stubborn resolve allowed him to maintain eye contact with the wild woman and this gave him the chance to see what was coming next. Apparently, the long-haired beauty wasn’t satisfied with one slap. Her eyes gave away her intent long before her hand twitched and began a second approach.

“How dare you!” The woman again shouted in his face. A cold gust of damp air blew her hair out against Azmere’s shoulder and that might have hidden the second strike but the spark of crazy in her eyes said too much. Azmere brought his hand up across his chest and caught her by the wrist just as the young woman was about to slap him once more. The move protected his face but it created a situation that Azmere was not prepared for at all. In the midst of blocking her attack, his own momentum resulted in a slight jerk when his palm made contact on her wrist and that brought their bodies so close together that the frigid wind treated them as a single object. An instant of warmth and static altered the cold expression on his face into one of blank confusion. Azmere held her wrist a moment longer, though his grasp relaxed as he found himself disappearing into the web of her intense stare. He blinked and released the tanned wrist then took half a step back, his back coming up against Hephiestian’s shoulder.

Azmere made a quick sign of apology and another meaning dog and found he could not look at this person anymore. He looked to the left turning his scarred side away from her for several chimes. The breath of Zulrav once more blew some of the girl’s brown strands of hair out and the movement stole back the attention of Azmere. He was about to offer her a piece of meat for his offense when an old woman came out blubbering and shouting something about her son. Azmere looked between the two females and leaned against Hephiestian. His cheeks still burned but Azmere couldn’t tell if it was from the slap or the awkward confusion that came after.

[Merevaika]

He shouted some incomprehensible word, something she knew must be an insult. His eyes glimmered in the sunlight, so contrasting to each other. Holding her gaze, he stared into her eyes, predicting her next move. A cold gust of wind slapped against her, sending her hair flying, but she could feel his warm, tight clasp around her incoming slap without having to see the hands behind her hair. His hand was large, firm and almost comforting, but she was pressed against him, able to feel his heart beating.

He would be able to feel her own racing heart, pounding beneath the cloth and skin separating them. The man relaxed his grasp, but only after a few moments of this static warmth, when the two were considered one by nature. Her eyes met his in that moment, the gold, the blue, the beauty.

This was nothing she had experienced before. The most romance was the forbidden kisses she had had as a child only to defy authority, and the current courtship of Juniper's second son. The first had nothing to do with feelings for the boys she kissed, and the second was one sided. This was something almost natural. She almost laughed at her thoughts. She had no feelings for this man, she had only been caught in the moment, pulled beside his chiseled muscles.

When he stepped, she felt a cool breeze across her back, hair dancing in the wind. The man stood there calmly, signing apology and dog, but looked away, cheek still red. The crying mother returned, even more incomprehensible than before, but Merevaika knew what she said from her tears. She had to leave, now, because it could already be too late.

She span round, ignoring the stranger, and leaped on Eryunt, who stepped back at the sudden weight. Bow in hand, she pulled forward, nearing off by the man who had kicked her dog, almost with a look of superiority. "Make up for it, come kill some wolves with me," she demanded, wanting to know more about him and not thinking of any other way but asking him to join her on her hunt.

With that demand, Merevaika was gone, sitting tall on the horse, muscles pulled firm, hair trailing behind her, vivid greens eyes staring at the path ahead. While the snow had frozen over, it remained in other places, perfect for tracking. As she rode out to wear the boy had been taken, she kept her eyes trained on the ground, peeled for signs of wolf prints. There. With the start of a trail, she picked up the horse's pace, leaning forward with anticipation. If the man had followed her, he would be the one to start the conversation. Merevaika had millions of things to say and ask, but no words to say them with.

[Azmere]

Azmere watched the interaction between the sobbing old woman and the feisty temptress that has slapped him. He was puzzled for a moment and the girl of angry beauty was preparing to leave. His eyes followed the actions and he nearly drew his club as she rode up with her bow in hand. Azmere dropped his right leg back and tensed the muscles in his arms and hands. This would not be visible to an untrained eye since he was wearing his shirt and cloak but he relaxed when she addressed him.

“Make up for it, come kill some wolves with me.”

Azmere couldn’t even respond before she had turned her strider and rode off into the muck and drizzle. The sun was playing hide and seek behind the clouds and Zulrav kicked up a stern breeze to fill the sails of the young woman and speed her on her way. Azmere turned to his trusted companion and was a bit dismayed. He had a yvas stacked up with meat. Glancing around, he found the tear-filled eyes of the woman piercing him. She needed no words for her gaze said more than her lips ever could. Azmere grabbed the lines that tied his catch and jogged over to the old woman’s son. He handed the rabbits and fish to the man and gave the sign for keep. The young man nodded in understanding.

Azmere darted back to Hephiestian and sprung up onto his back. The horse staggered at the sudden force which was uncharacteristic for the duo but it only took a moment for the rider to take control and turn the strider on a path to follow the woman. Azmere tugged on his bow to make sure it was secure and squeezed his knees against Hephiestian’s flank and then bounced his heels just in front of the horse’s stifles. Hephiestian responded with a quick trot that gained momentum at a rapid pace until he was in a full blown sprint. Azmere tucked his chest down against the withers to make himself more aerodynamic. Hephiestian barreled along the deep ruts left by the woman’s strider. It was easy given all of the rain the area had seen lately.

As Hephiestian built up speed reaching the fasted gallop Azmere had ever experienced, the sun disappeared behind a thick batch of clouds. It was only then that Azmere noticed it. He tucked his face from the wind as it bit and tore a the skin on his face and a soft light that was a bit like the color of the djed strands but more turquoise than blue began to radiant in a delicte pattern along Hephiestian’s frame. Azmere sat up somewhat to look at his friend’s transformation even though the wind tried to remove his cloak. The dotted lines seemed to trace major muscle lines as well as skeletal components but thy were intertwined in a way that would outline the creature as if Hephiestian was making hiself known to the gods. Azmere was so blown away that he nearly missed how fast they were approaching the woman and her strider.

The sun came back out and the glowing faded until it was gone. Azmere refocused and found himself adjusting a bit on Hephiestian. Tucking back down, Azmere slowed his strider a bit to match the pace of the woman. He was about fifteen feet behind her and a bit to the right so he and his horse avoided having mud cakes flung at them. Every move she made, he shadowed. After a short period of time adjusting to the pace, Azmere edged them a bit closer and then closer still until Hephiestian’s snout was just off of the other strider’s point of hip. It had been quite some time since Azmere had raced around with anyone. He was such a loner that this was refreshing and exciting. Fortunately, he had steering and guiding to concern himself with and not the taut muscles and flowing hair of the woman in front of him. His eyes scanned about taking in the scenery as it flew by and Azmere had a sinking suspicion he knew where the wolves had gone. He prayed that he was wrong.

[Merevaika]

Mud splayed up from her horse, white and brown coating the Strider's legs. The trail of wolf prints swerved left and right, but she stuck to their path, following the clear indents on the ground. Four large toes with sharp claws, weapons of destruction. They coated the icy ground, avoiding the icy patches, but the actual wolf prints didn't bother her as much as the tracks beside them did.

A thick trail of the boy's body marked the ground beside where they ran, a constant reminder that this wasn't an ordinary wolf hunt. This was a rescue mission for someone who could already be dead and gone. People were relying on her, and she hoped she wouldn't let them down, but only time could tell.

The sun shone lightly on her, as if she was trying to offer the woman hope. It illuminated her face, and she took a moment to examine the scenery around her, taking in the beauty of nature. Frost clung to the grass flattened by snow, leafless bushes poking out of the white. A small stream trickled past, mainly frozen from the low temperatures. In the distance, she caught sight of something familiar, and remembered to make a sign to her companion before racing forward, eager to reach it: Come.

The certain collection of rocks and the cut of the surrounding area made it clear what it was: a signpost many hunters used, to show that they had strayed too far from Endrykas. But that wasn't how Merevaika knew it. Long ago, when she had been hunting with her father, he had pointed the location out. "Beware of that place," he warned her, "It is full of shadows and wolves. Promise me you will never enter it." Of course, that only sparked her curiosity, and the next thing the Ankal knew was that he was charging in to find her watching a group of wolves devouring an elk, silent and unnoticed in her observations.

That would be the place she would find the wolves. Slowing, she moved her hand to her bow, loosing taking an arrow in preparation. The Drykas narrowed around, bringing her horse to a walk as they approached the deadly location. She directed orders to the man who had been following so close behind her, signs of a good horseman. From the muscles, he would be a good warrior too. A golden eye stared out, and she longed to ask about the scars that ran down one side of the well-defined face. For another time, she urged herself.

"There are wolves there. I will go first, you follow. Shoot as many as you can, but we need to save a boy, so that is our priority. Don't shoot him by mistake. Unless, you have a better idea?' She let him offer his own opinion; despite Merevaika's act that she knew what she was doing, hunting a pack of wild wolves was new to her. If the man's appearance reflected any sort of experience, she would let him show it.

[Azmere]

Azmere found the ride pleasant enough considering he wasn’t exactly sure what they were doing. Hunting wolves was the story but given the state of the family at the pavilion, he had guessed the pack had taken or slaughtered someone. Azmere kept his bottom off of Hephiestian’s back by squeezing his legs together. This was a bit tiring but prevented a far worse feeling than tight quads. He steered Hephiestian with small actions that kept them clear of the mud being flung about by the woman and her strider. The way she rode along the trail of prints and drag marks told Azmere that she had done some tracking before today. Perhaps that is why the pavilion asked for her help in this task. Azmere wondered who they had lost. He thought about some of the people he’s lost in his life and began to drift down memory lane. As his mind wandered, the tight formation he was keeping became loose as a separation grew between the two striders.

Azmere noticed this and shook his mind back to the present and the task at hand. Syna had come back out and was glimmering across the Sea of Grass. The rays seemed to highlight the woman and her fierce determination. It was almost like something out of a dream when she signed for him to come. His eyes traced the trajectory of their path up towards the horizon when he saw it. His earlier thought had proved to be correct. There was a small gulch of rocks that Azmere had been taught to avoid his entire life. Asmodeus had explained how the water slows from the stream among these rocks and creates pools of various sizes that attract birds and other game. It’s isolated from the wind and there’s always cool refreshment waiting which makes it ideal for any species to rest. It also makes the perfect place for an ambush which is why the wolves have made this an ancestral haunt.

The Run serves the Drykas people well. It allows the land to replenish itself seasonally so the livestock and game never run out of food. Life cycles and so do the horsemen of Cyprhus. The same also holds true for most of the predators in the Sea of Grass. Wolves, lions, rodents and even glassbeaks tend to follow the Run. This is why every season is a dangerous one. Azmere slowed his mount for a brief second to stare down at the tracks and marks that the young woman was following. He didn’t have the skill to read them while moving at the speed which they were traveling. As Hephiestian was reduced to a walk, Azmere leaned towards the ground and saw the large paw prints. Wolf tracks were different than dogs (the ones Azmere was familiar with, anyway) and a big part of that was the spacing and shape of the pads but the easiest sign was the claw marks. Azmere also noticed a crimson hue blended into the drag line. The pack had hauled off someone and Azmere was figuring it to be a child. The tracks were far enough apart to indicate that the wolves were moving relatively quickly and not struggling much to move the body. A few sets were deeper than the rest which meant the pack worked as a unit to relocate the child. Azmere’s stomach turned. Nothing upset the man quite like the death of a child. He never knew why; it’s not like he had ever lost any kids.

[Azmere]

Azmere looked up and pressed his heels into the flanks of his strider. The woman had pulled away significantly while Azmere stopped to study the trail. He tucked his chest down against Hephiestian’s withers and pushed the horse to catch up which took some time but only a chime or two. Azmere watched her draw out her bow and slow down. He sat up on the yvas and scoured the landscape. He did not see any wolves. He lifted a brow at the brazen confidence this girl displayed. Was she really going to march into the den on her strider? Azmere wasn’t sure that was a solid idea. He could defend himself against a wolf, maybe two in a head to head challenge and either way there was no guarantee. There could be a dozen or more in that pack. He rode up and placed Hephiestian between her and the rocks.

"There are wolves there. I will go first, you follow. Shoot as many as you can, but we need to save a boy, so that is our priority. Don't shoot him by mistake. Unless, you have a better idea?”

Azmere did have a better idea. It was suddenly obvious that not everyone had been taught as he had; to practice pragmatism. Asmodeus had always warned Azmere of the disasters that the pursuit of glory provides. Drykas culture is filled with stories and legends of brazen heroes charging headfirst into a fray and coming out unscathed. The reality of these things is far less spectacular. Azmere stared into the woman’s eyes for a moment before he began his counter-proposal. She seemed almost blood-thirsty in this endeavour but Azmere could understand the need for vengeance if a family member had been taken. He slid off of Hephiestian and began to strip some of his unnecessary gear and signed for her to do the same. “We need to go in on foot.” He pointed at his boot, signed quiet and then pointed at the hooves of his horse. Azmere took his backpack and rucksack off then fixed them to the yvas. He adjusted his cloak then took the thing off and set it across Hephiestian.

Azmere looked over towards her and began to unfold his plan. “We take very little with us so we can be fast and quiet. We use the mud to mask our scents and try to take out as many as we can from cover.” Azmere pointed to the drag mark that was only a few feet away from them. “Less blood here than where I stopped back there.” He pointed back to where he had slowed to study the tracks. His eyes registered a sadness because his heart told him that the boy was dead and he felt sorry for this woman and her family. “You can ride in on horse if you want to but the rocks will be very slippery. I won’t risk Hephiestian.” Azmere stroked his mount and continued to adjust his gear.

[Merevaika]

He calmed her bloodthirsty nature, dismounting and beginning to sort through his possessions. She supposed it was quieter to enter by foot, but was that what they wanted? Wouldn't it be better to try drive the wolves out? Merevaika had honestly no idea, and began to copy him, taking her possessions. There were few: the bow and other archery equipment and her knife. The arm guard and archer's glove came on, and her cloak came off, secured on the horse's yvas. With that, she gave the Strider a stroke, before signing quickly. Wolves, keep away, come at call. Eryunt snorted, before trotting off a little, allowing Merevaika to pour her attention towards her companion.

He pointed to the drag marks, faintly marked with blood. She had seen any blood when she had looked at the marks from afar, the red must have blurred at the distance and speed she was moving. Blood. The boy was injured, if not worse. She placed a hand over her heart with respect, before stalking away quickly. The wolves would be distracted with a fresh corpse, would they not?

As he had suggested, she kept to the mud, moving towards the wolf den with slow steady steps. The path was slippery, the rocks also, and she tread carefully, eyes searching for ice. Every step was steady, hands resting on anything she could find to take the weight off each step. There was a small incline, leading up a familiar rock face, that would look over the main area where the wolves would take their prey.

Moving her bow around her shoulder, she reached out, gripping the rock firmly as she scrambled up as elegantly and quietly as she could, resting on the frost as she shuffled over to overlook the wolves. There was barely space on this rock for her, and if her companion joined her, it would be a tight squeeze, but it was a perfect vantage point.

It wasn't a large pack, or so it seemed, four wolves surrounded around a single focal point, but shadows and ledges hid many spots where hiding wolves could lie. It wasn't clear what they surrounded, but there was only one thing it could be: the lifeless body of a child, face down in the mud.

She let the landscape hide her, sinking into a slight dip behind a bush that's thorny branches obscured most of the view of the wolves. Merevaika peeked an arrow through the branches, tightening her bow string with a sharp intake of breath. The arrow swiveled to point towards the largest wolf, whose head was buried in the body of the boy. Sickening.

Merevaika turned to wherever Azmere had chosen to go, waiting for his instruction. With his order, she would release her arrow and hopefully the death of a wolf would follow. Taking his orders. Merevaika almost laughed. Was she not the leader here? But leaders, the good ones, anyway, knew how to use their groups resources to their advantage, did they not? This was a sign of good leadership, letting the more experienced man who had formulated the plan direct it. It was definitely not a sign of lack of knowledge and uncertainty. Definitely not.