My, What Big Teeth You Have! Pt. III

[Azmere]

Part II

Azmere watched Merevaika for a moment. It seemed that she had been unphased through the entire ordeal. While her conduct and resolve during the purge was admirable, Azmere wondered what had hardened the young woman. Drykas were a tough people but they had their soft underbellies just like every other animal. This woman was different or least she seemed to be less sensitive than most. Azmere did his best to ignore the pain of the bite. There would need to be some stitching done, that was certain. Thanks to adrenaline, he had not really felt the defensive snag of the wolf but that hormone was being recalled to its place of storage for future use. The reality of his wound and the small trickles of blood still flowing caused the torn flesh and muscle to throb. The throbbing quickly became akin to the pounding of a drum which sent aches in waves through Azmere’s body.

He signed an acknowledgement of her name and mouthed it silently. It was a little trick he used to help remember things like that. He watched the horse move and jostle towards the small mouth of the rocks. Her stallion came right in but Hephiestian caught one whiff of the predators and snorted in protest. Azmere narrowed his gaze. He was not in the mood for the games his strider liked to play. The archer moved carefully along the slick rocks and ice and reached for the yvas handle. Striders are very clever creatures and Azmere’s was no exception. The beast twisted way from his master and pushed him with his head.

In the man’s weary state, he slipped but did not fall. A growl rumbled from Azmere’s chest as he squared to the horse. Hephiestian stamped the ground and shook his head up and down as if challenging his rider. Azmere signed ‘move’ and pointed towards the pile of pelts which his companion was already sorting. Hephiestian shook his head and lifted his snout abruptly shoving his nose into Azmere’s chest. This time it was much harder than before and it sent Azmere staggering backwards. His left boot caught the edge of a wet stone and sent his leg flying outward. With a startled shout, the Drykas tumbled to the ground landing on his hands and knees. “Petch!” He got up so fast that ice flew from his boots as if blown by a strong gust of wind.

He took two great strides and caught the horse by his mane. He clenched his fingers into fists preventing the animal from pulling away then flexed his biceps while pulling down. This bent the strider’s neck towards Azmere who slammed his forehead against Hephiestian’s cheek. The Drykas was speaking very softly through clenched teeth. He was in pain, tired and wanted to get back to the city so he could rest. After all, he had been up all night checking traps and following game paths. The strider seemed to calm under the dominating hold of his human. Azmere sensed this and slowly uncoiled but remained near and stroked the soft hair of Hephiestian’s neck. Now that an understanding had been reached, Azmere turned back towards where the wolves were waiting and started towards them. Hephiestian made a soft noise. Without any further warning, he turned and trotted back out into the grass. The man spun on his heel and watched this take place with a defeated yet annoyed expression. Azmere threw his hands up in surrender and went back to Merevaika.

The young man caught the end of what the huntress was saying in regards to the divvying of the goods. Azmere whole-heartedly agreed that the family should be given something. He was not thrilled with her instant claim to the adult pelts. It’s not like she did all of the word. He decided to not protest since he would not have any pelts if she hadn’t invited him along for the hunt. He nodded and moved past her towards the corpse of the boy. He knelt down and touched the remnants of a thin shoulder. Azmere felt his tear ducts tighten as enough moisture collected to allow a single drop to escape his eye and run down his nose. The salty liquid ran until it dispersed across his dry lips. He took a moment to wish the child’s spirit a grand adventure within the web before he stood up. The warrior was slow moving as the dull ache of his wound was taking more of atoll than he expected but because of this, his eyes caught sight of something unusual.

Azmere moved around the boy’s corpse and into the lair. There were ledges and piles of rocks and debris littered about the area. One ledge seemed to have something foreign wedged beneath it. As he drew nearer, his eyes picked up the cold chalky lines that identify bones. A few more strides brought him close enough to realize that they were human remains. He reached out towards it then stopped. Disturbing the dead was not only frowned upon but there were some who believed it could bring a curse to the defiler. Azmere pondered a moment as he surveyed the scene for details. The wolves had picked this corpse clean many seasons ago but the unnatural way that the body was positioned made the Drykas was to pay a respect and lay the skeleton out properly. His compassion won over against his superstition and with delicate hands, he slid the bones from beneath the rock.

Azmere gauged the size of the hands, feet and skull and figured it to be a large child or small woman. He laid the limbs along the ribcage and folded the arms across the chest. He smiled a bit. Perhaps there was an older spirit here to help guide the boy to a place of peace so that he may, one day, be returned to the Sea of Grass. The man was about to get up when he saw something else beneath the rocks. His eyes lit up. He reached in and grabbed ahold of the thick leather strap of a half-rotted belt. Once he had it in his hand, the smile got wider, albeit a smidge uneven. He hopped up with a bit of a bounce and tucked the belt and its contents against his form. He made his way back over to Vai while he maintained an amused expression. He met the curious gaze of the woman with that crooked smile which was due to half of his face being scarred. “I’d like the two adults and one youngling. The family gets the ruined beast and that leaves you to take the last youngling…” He held out his hand revealing the small treasure he had found.

Grader NoteI realize this may seem like a substantial piece of loot. However, the dagger was an idea I borrowed from Tribal while he was still an ST. He stated in the grades for part 1 that he would like to drop in on the thread and the skeleton/weapon was his idea for that post.

It was a dagger with a very rough looking six inch blade that appeared to be iron. It was rusty and dull but the leather wrapped around the pommel had aged well. The end of the hilt showed a bit of fine craftsmanship as the metal curls into itself. Azmere held it out with his palm flat so she could see the potential of the blade. “…and this.” If she didn’t want the dagger, he would take the reverse of his counter offer. It was a sturdy blade, well-made and heavier than it looked. His eyes went from the blade to Vai’s face as he awaited her response. The Drykas supposed she would like the blade. It ,obviously, had a history of violence to match the fiery spirit of the huntress.

[Merevaika]

The man agreed to what she said, moving to pay his own respects to the child. As a salty tear ran down his face, Merevaika watched rather confused. Was he crying? This boy meant nothing to him, yet he was crying. Merevaika didn't understand this display of emotion initially and had to work over it in her head. Perhaps it reminded him of a past event, of a brother or relative that died young. Perhaps it reminded that anyone or anything could die, however undeserving.

It wasn't like any of those thoughts made Merevaika upset, but perhaps someone with a bigger heart would be.

Then he continued further into the wolves' lair, Merevaika picking through the rocks to follow him. She watched him from a distance, stopping as he did. There was something there. A skeleton. Azmere moved the body, observing it. From where she stood, she could tell it was small, smaller than a fully grown adult. On a belt hung an object that Azmere grabbed, bounding back to Merevaika with an amused expression.

Her gaze was curious, focused more on the treasure in his hand. A dagger, well crafted but old and rusty. Because of its age, she couldn't tell its usefulness, but it was a good blade. Something she wanted. Her eyes stared at it, evidently eager to take it. But his deal didn't work with her. Only one of the younglings was nothing. She wanted both, if she was to have the dagger.

And Merevaika made this clear. "I did as much work as you. I would be happy to take both younglings and the dagger, and leave you the adults. However, your deal is terrible. That dagger is old and rusted. It would only be fair if we did it my way - I get the dagger and two younglings, you get the two adults. Deal?"

[Azmere]

Azmere listened to her offer and watched her gaze carefully. Merevaika was serious in her counter offer. Was it not the same as what she had offered him without the dagger being in consideration? Certainly, she was as selfish as she was wild. Sadly, Azmere had met many like this in his years amidst the grass. Plains life had a way of making people introverted and shallow. It was not hard to understand since life was often fleeting and seldom easy. Azmere, himself, had been around long enough to live both sides of the argument. He had been selfish for many years and after a certain incident, he vowed to never be selfish again. The archer hoped that one day Merevaika could learn to see beyond herself. Still, he didn’t deny that he wouldn’t mind spending more time with her. He sighed and nodded in agreement to her terms. He took a few steps and handed the dagger to the girl then turned from her to begin gathering the adult carcasses.

First, he strode to her strider. He approached slowly with his hands up in a non-threatening pose. He reached out to let the horse sniff him and whispered softly at the impressive animal. “I’m going to rid you of that burden, young man.” Azmere moved to the side of the strider who shifted a bit restlessly with the stranger next to him. The big head turned its eyes to his rider almost like he was asking her if this man was a threat. Azmere did not reach for the wolf until after the animal had stopped his shuffling. It seemed that the two came to a mutual agreement. The Drykas was a stranger to Eryunt but the dead predator on his back was not going to be missed. Azmere shifted the wolf a bit and slipped his arm beneath the ribcage. He dipped his shoulder and hoisted the remains by tightening the muscles in his arm. The defeated animal curled up onto the shoulder that was not torn and bleeding.

The Drykas winced some feeling his body react from the retreat of adrenaline. Aches and pains became prevalent while he walked towards the entrance of the rocks. He whistled to Hephiestian who was a small distance away eating grass. The ears of the strider perked and the head lifted. The dark eyes stared at its companion who stood tall despite his wounds. Slowly and not without a few pauses, Hephiestian made his way over to Azmere. The wolf made the stallion antsy and Azmere had to close the last few feet on his own. He made several quick strides which brought him alongside his mount. He dropped the wolf over the yvas and grabbed the handle once his grip was free. Hephiestian pulled back some but not far. The wolf was dead but it still held the stench. Azmere smiled and pressed his forehead into the strider’s neck. After a moment’s embrace, he returned to the other carcass and squatted next to it.

Azmere turned the lifeless form then wrapped his arms around its midsection. He hoisted it onto his shoulder while keeping his back straight. He rose feeling the muscles in his legs respond under the added weight with slight protest but that was all. Once more, he turned and headed out of the area and onto the plains. The gulch held enough death in its stones to keep his strider from entering. Azmere moved to Hephiestian who was still in the same place. He used the hold on the animal’s ribs to lift it from his shoulder and extend it out over the yvas. He set this wolf down in the same manner as the first so they would ride easier. Having done so, Azmere removed his rope and began securing the haul to the yvas by looping the rope around each bag after he tied it to the wolves. He tucked the rest of the rope down into the bag and tugged at some of his knots and leads. He was certain that once he added his own weight, the load would travel without issue.

The hunter fished out one of his shirts and slid it over his body. The chill was beginning to set in on his bones having already soaked through his skin. He then retrieved his cloak and gloves from his pack. His shoulder hurt more and more as the ticks piled away. Shaking the notion of rest from his mind, Azmere drew his waterskin and took a slow but long drink trying to replenish some strength. All that was needed at this point was to return the mangled carcass to the family and then find some healing. It had been quite a day.

EryuntI took some liberty with your strider but tried to maintain the personality you gave him. If it's not quite right, let me know how I can fix it.

[Merevaika]

He handed her the dagger, giving into her request after a while of consideration. His sigh seemed to speak it all, his reluctant acceptance of the two adult wolves if he gave up the two younger ones. She was glad that there was no further argument. Merevaika slipped the dagger away, deciding not to examine it while he was around. Perhaps that would seem to greedy, to desperate to see the value in everything.

She turned to see Azmere approaching her horse, letting the might strider smell him. Of course Eryunt wasn't comfortable with him, the strider shifting and shuffling, ears pinned back at the unfamiliar scent. His eyes turned to her, met with a single sign. Trust. Not that she fully trusted Azmere, but she never fully trusted anyone. Even if they meant no harm, it could certainly happen. She didn't want to be on the receiving end. Finally Eryunt stopped, letting the dead wolf shift from his back and across Azmere's shoulder.

He then moved to gather the other adult wolf. Merevaika decided it was time to take hers, wrapping her hands around the wolf and shifting it up to rest across her shoulder and back. She brought it forward, placing it near her horse. The other wolf was smaller, small enough to be able to hoist up from the scruff of its neck, cradling it as if she was holding a baby. She clicked towards Eryunt, who held his ground, meaning the woman had to come to him. He once again showed discomfort at the wolves, this time two dead predators, but she presented them to him clearly, letting the horse smell the dead thing. When he finally settled, she hoisted the first body up, pushing it just in front of the yvas. He stomped and snorted with the body, but relaxed with her firm touch. Merevaika continued to hold her hand on his shoulder as she wrestled with the other wolf, letting it fall across Eryunt's back. With the sudden weight, the horse darted forward, brushing past Merevaika and causing her to stumble for a moment.

She stopped herself from falling, moving quickly to Eryunt and comforting him with her voice, "Relax, it's okay." He seemed to instantly believe her, allowing the huntress to gather the mangled body and add that to the other bodies. Then, she loosened her rope, copying Azmere's actions as he too began securing the load. She brought it around each wolf, wrapping the rope tight around the neck, before binding it around the yvas, tying several knots in order to hold it all in place. She unhooked the cloak from the horse, wrapping it around her, then shaking herself from the pain that had started to build up again from the wolves.

The woman lead Eryunt a little further out into the plains, before hoisting herself up, using the wolves as a handhold. With all three, and her, she feared that Eryunt would protest, but somehow the horse remained quiet, beginning to pad forward with her weight directed him. As they moved, she adjusted her seat, shifting the wolves on top of each other. The contrasting movements confused her horse, who stopped several times unsure what she wanted him to do.

Merevaika tried to pass it off as waiting for Azmere, who had taking a moment to have a drink. Every time Eryunt stopped, she turned, confusing him even more. Finally she gave up with everything, pushing Eryunt into a smooth trot. Achieving a greater a speed would be hard, and possibly dangerous, with the weight on his back. She moved her hand to rest against his shoulder, the bulging muscles tense. Such a great horse. Without realising it, she let a whoop out into the air. Today had gone well. A new acquaintance, a new dagger and two wolves.

She let Azmere reach her, turning to him with an excited smile. "You're a better hunter than I thought you would be," the compliment, or at least, her version of one, slipped out instinctively. She meant it, though, so didn't care. She was in a sudden good mood. Let the compliments slip out all they want.

[Azmere]

Azmere slid his rucksack down and fastened it around his waist. The backpack resting on the yvas sat there a moment as he debated what to do with it. His shoulder was partially shredded and too tender to simply strap it on as if nothing was wrong. The Drykas was enjoying the feelings of warmth and security that his clothes afforded him and was grateful he decided to buy the gloves. Feeling stripped of all adrenaline; Azmere shifted the pack on top of the wolves then slid his quiver and bow over his shoulder being careful to avoid his wound.

The man’s eyes darted up towards Merevaika who was already moving away but her strider’s gait was unsteady. He couldn’t tell if the horse was struggling under the weight or if it was much simpler and had to do with a bunch of dead, stinking wolves on his back. Azmere knew Hephiestian was uncomfortable but the strider trusted his rider. The horse showed his malcontent through his ears which were pinned back. Azmere patted the creature’s neck and slowly pulled himself up onto the yvas. He heard the woman let out a triumphant holler. He smiled. They had done well for what little preparations had been made. Azmere squeezed his thighs against his stallion and used the yvas handle to guide Hephiestian in a slow canter that took a few ticks to close the distance between themselves and the other tandem. When they had arrived alongside Merevaika, she turned to Azmere and commented about his abilities. He let a slow smile curl across his face in the crooked way that the scars manipulated his genuine display. He signed a thank you while wondering what she did expect.

“I guess we are both full of surprises.” He smiled not wanting to ask any more about her change. He believed in the gods and believed in magic. He used it, had been victim to it and yet so much was unknown to him that he felt it best to stick to his strengths rather than dabble in things meant for wiser men. He stared at the woman for a moment searching her eyes for some invitation to ask about what she had mentioned earlier. ‘Once Amethyst’. That sign had puzzled Azmere because it seems to indicate that she was ostracized. He was disturbed by the degradation of so many pavilions in his world. There was something odd, corrupt even, about the loss of family. Perhaps it was simply loss or maybe there was a carelessness in the line that allowed for a bright star like Merevaika to wander from a path that certainly held greatness. That’s not to say that she wasn’t doing fine on her own. The young woman was absolutely capable of handling herself and her appearance indicated that she was healthy enough. Still, Azmere couldn’t resist being curious. He knew that he was only a few steps away from being truly lost. While he bore a heavy burden of vengeance for his betrayer, he owed the man a thank you for returning Azmere to his rightful place among the Drykas people; a protective servant.

Deciding not to ask, he allowed the silence to facilitate his transition. He signed that they should be getting back and nudged Hephiestian forward. They resumed the slow canter. Each step sent a shockwave to his shoulder. Blood was already soaking up most of his shirt but the cloak hid most of that from site. Azmere was tired and needed to return to the city so he could sleep. He would go to the River Flower tomorrow and get himself patched up. As he rode, he found himself watching Merevaika. People are curious creatures and he couldn’t help but feel that this woman’s story was one that should be heard.

[Merevaika]

Azmere smiled at her compliment, scars twisting in a way that could be horrific, but one that Merevaika barely realised. His smile was captivating, showing true happiness. At least, that was what she saw.

The man said they were both full of surprises. Merevaika simply nodded, knowing that just like her, he hid many secrets. She didn't judge him for it. After all, they had only met that day, barely knew the other. Still, you could tell a lot from a man from the way he hunted. Enough to make her forget him kicking her dog, even.

They both rode lost in thought, searching the other's eyes. She was waiting for him to speak, but he didn't, misinterpreting her distant expression. A few moments of silence, and he made a sign, nudging his horse onwards. Merevaika didn't even have to ask Eryunt to chase after, the horse slowly cantering until the two were neck and neck, not letting the other horse get the pleasure of being first.

Slowly, the cold wind blew through her clothes, causing the scratches covering her body to tense. There was a bite on her arm, something she hadn't even noticed, that coursed with pain, but didn't bleed. Claw marks ran down her arms and back, a few spilling the red blood that coursed through her body. She shivered, moving her hand to the bow to steady herself.

Then she looked at Azmere, and almost forgot her injuries with the sight of his. He twitched with the strides of his horse, and she remembered the injury he had got to his shoulder, how badly it had bled. How he managed to stay on his horse, she didn't know. Then she noticed that he watched her like she watched him, perhaps differently, she couldn't tell.

The Drykas brought her horse nearer to him, reaching out gently to move his cloak. She wanted to see how bad his injury really was. If he showed any discomfort, she would move away, but would keep her eyes trained on it. She wanted to know. She wanted to help, however strange that feeling was to her.

"Does it hurt? Perhaps we should talk to keep your mind off the pain. What's you job?"

[Azmere]

The two stallions kept pace with one another quite nicely. It made things easier on Azmere who was having a bit of trouble staying centered. He squeezed his legs together but the waning strength in his body would let off the pressure of one side before the other and caused his weight to shift. He could feel the heavy mat of cloths on his shoulder. The blood was soaking into his clothing and he could feel the warmth oozing out and down his chest and back. By now, his left pectoral, deltoid and left shoulder blade were covered but this was all well hidden by his warm cloak. He would occasionally look away from Merevaika to study the pelts he had won today. He smiled and how nicely they would make a blanket for him to snuggle up with in his tent. Then again, he debated using them to line his cloak. It was pleasant to think of such things.

When the huntress steered closer to inspect his wound, Hephiestian reacted poorly to the other stallion moving into his space. The horse swung his head at her strider as a warning but it caused Hephiestian’s back to sway. As Merevaika’s hand was peeling back the cloak for a look at the wound, Azmere’s body slumped against her. He was fatigued and took a few ticks to right himself but in those brief moments there was an embrace. His face fell against her neck and his left arm wrapped around her back to steady himself. Azmere’s clamped his legs down to avoid falling from the yvas but planted his right hand on her knee for support. The contact was intensely intimate for someone like Azmere who didn’t engage in hardly any socialization beyond his duties as a Watchman. The woman’s hair covered his face and he was able to slowly right himself back to his own mount. Blush filled the unmarred and pallid cheek. He didn’t know what to say so his eyes diverted to something far away and out of focus.

The smell of her skin and feel of her hair lingered on the unscarred potions of his face and neck. Azmere’s hand seemed to mimic the shape of her knee using nothing but air to hold. What a strange feeling and such strange timing for the confusion that rolled about in his mind swallowing his reason and normal clairvoyance. As these things rolled around inside his skull, the archer looked back to her and adjusted his cloak to try and hide all of the blood loss. He met her gaze and held for a tick or two then answered her question. “I serve on the Watch as Ra’athi.” This was true but at the same time it wasn’t. Azmere hadn’t been given any assignments beyond tent patrol. He felt his skills were wasted on such tasks but knew that he had to start somewhere. It didn’t help that his Tavekh didn’t like him. The stubborn old bird made it very clear on the morn of their interview. Even Azmere’s grandfather had been taken aback by the public display of distaste.

Azmere offered her another weak grin but let it fade almost instantly. He felt dizzy and fiddled about with his right arm trying to reach around for his waterskin. Normally, he would grab it with his left but that arm had grown quite stiff and felt most comfortable tucked against his ribs. The action of grasping for the container appeared awkward and rightfully so. It was always the left hand’s job to retrieve water. It was like learning to walk on your hands and just seemed unnatural. Finally, a huffed exhale announced he had given up and Azmere swallowed the saliva in his mouth hoping to fight the dry feeling in his throat. “What is your station, Merevaika Stormchaser?” It was becoming hard to look at her. He could still feel her hair on his face and reached his right hand up to gently brush the ghost of it from his cheek. There was nothing touching his face but the wind yet his hand lingered as if twirling something round his finger.

[Merevaika]

When she leant over, she had forgotten the horses, and they swayed, Azmere leaning on her for support. She felt her throat catch a little, but the feeling disappeared moments later. He blushed, moving away quickly from the awkward position where he had steadied himself on her.

Merevaika coughed, riding a little ahead and avoiding his gaze, but their eyes met for a few ticks before he announced himself as a watch member. She felt herself go sour, then tried to right it. She still didn't trust some of the Watch after what had happened not on long ago. While she had tried to forget, something always reminded her of it.

He seemed weak and unsteady when he returned the question, but she trained her eyes forward, not towards him. She couldn't look at him. There was a twitch - slight but visible - at the Stormchaser. Who called her that anymore? No one, that was who. Few knew of it, and most who did knew how they were dead. The last Stormchaser, true Stormchaser anyway, didn't want to be reminded of what she was. Whatever her promises were.

Merevaika blinked, returning to the question. Her job, what was her job? Her tongue seemed to turn to lead as she tried to come up with a response. Why was this so hard? She was a Wilderness Guide, she led people through the Sea of Grass. But she knew that she was actually a hunter, a forager, a thief, even, and the last made her wary around the Watch.

Wilderness guide. She was wilderness guide. Yet she couldn't say this directly, dancing around the words as she tried to speak, "I... You see... When people, people that aren't Drykas, when people need... Into the Sea of Grass. I take them. Guide. Guide them through it."

What was she doing? Had that moment of contact really done that to her? No, it was more than that. It wasn't the contact, but it was. It was the fact that she hadn't had real contact in forever. This, however accidental, could be the closest she had been to someone in a long time. That scared her. A lot.

The tents came into sight, something else to distract themselves with. She nudged Eryunt faster, almost racing towards the line of tents. "Almost there," she thought aloud. Then she realised, that this would mean goodbye. She would miss Azmere's company.

[Azmere]

Azmere was doing his best to pay attention to Merevaika. He missed her reaction to his choice of career. His right hand clutched the yvas hard with a grip that threatened to tear the thing clean off. His left arm was pinned against his body and amidst the cold, Azmere felt himself burning up as if heat was pouring from his skin. He had seen illness as a boy and knew he had to be checked out by a healer before he lacked the strength to ask for help. However, he was a man of principal and tried to live within the parameters of behavior that were set forth by his mother and grandfather. These same rules were the ones he’d spent years breaking and bending into incomprehensible rubble. Life was different now. He was different.

The hunter tuned back in just in time to hear his companion stumble for words in regards to how she earns her keep. Obviously unattached, she was fumbling for words as if she was hiding something. Azmere was generally very quiet about such details but he turned to see her expression as the words tumbled past her lips. Her tone was always confident before, soft once or twice but assured. Something had happened or she was lying. He wheeled Hephiestian to keep alongside Merevaika and her stallion. The wind blew her hair a bit and since they’d had a long day, it was already wild. The Drykas found himself admiring it for a tick or two and then the feeling of its light tickle across his cheek caused him to shake his head. When she had finished, he gave her a very thoughtful glance with a sign for nervous. “You normally speak without hesitation. Is something wrong?”

Azmere’s eyes followed her expression to the tents where they had met. He rode around some deep ruts by using his legs to squeeze and push on Hephiestian since he wasn’t using his left arm. The horse responded well even under the extra weight of the grown wolves. Once he had guided the strider to where her tent was (or at least the tent she marched out of to slap him), Azmere dismounted gingerly but was thankful for the chance to stand. He arched his back, still keeping his left arm against his ribs, and twisted from side to side slowly and with deliberate force. He could feel the tension ease in some of his muscles though the pain was starting to have that radiating affect where the immediate area was numb and the adjoining space was starting to burn. He ignored the sensation and focused on what he had set out to do; help. He walked with a firm and upright posture towards her horse but stayed back a few feet until she would dismount. Catching her gaze completely as he stood before her, the archer spoke. “It has been an honor to ride with you, Stormchaser.” Azmere signed respect, meeting and glad but together it more closely meant that he considered himself fortunate to have met her.

Azmere fully intended on helping her unload the wolves from her strider. He knew little of the kind of magic she wielded but he knew that all magics take a toll on the user; even something as simple as traversing the web can wear a man out. So he stood keeping his left arm against his ribs when a puppy came running out of her tent. Azmere watched it and noticed it was not the one who tried to steal his food. The animal came out and sniffed at his boots which were covered in mud. Rather than kick at the dog (no need to repeat that lesson), Azmere squatted and stared at the creature. With its bright, little eyes, the puppy stared back. Azmere spoke in a low voice the way one would to a small child. “Sit.” To his surprise, the pup squatted down on his hind legs and sat as commanded. Azmere straightened with a slight wince and turned his gaze to Merevaika. He was smiling a bit but only in disbelief. He signed for hunting then for question. “Their lineage any good?” Even though he was using his focus for discussing the puppy and its bloodline, the wind whipped her scent from loosely blown hair into his nostrils and a piece of him floated back to that moment. Azmere chose to stay in his logic where it was safe and left the free-spirit within him wonder at the possibilities.

[Merevaika]

Azmere moved to ride beside her, admiring her for a moment before shaking his head, signing nervous. Merevaika tried to come up with a response for him, pulling her hair back out of her eyes. There was something wrong. First, that moment of contact had shook her from the inside. Second, it wasn't true. Well, it was, but she knew that she stole from those she guided the same as she guided them. At least, stole in the view of scamming more mizas from them than she deserved. She rarely directly stole from them - it was more general people she stole from, people she had no connection to.

Lost in though, she didn't get out a reply until later, when she looked lost again. "I'm hurt," she tried to blame her injuries, "I can't concentrate well." Of course, it wasn't hard to notice that she was speaking fine now, but she didn't even notice that, following Azmere with his dismounting. He did so carefully, arm pressed against ribs and moving slowly and purposefully. Merevaika tried to copy his movements, letting her drop off be slowly, more gradually reaching the ground.

He signed and spoke, Merevaika repeating the signs, out of tradition and meaning. She winced at her name, not giving his as she replied. "An honor for me too." She turned, reaching up to pull the first wolf down. It was easier than before, letting the body fall to the ground. Eryunt instantly relaxed, realising that the predators were being removed from his back. She dragged the wolf a little away, before getting the next one, untangling it from the ropes.

By the time she had pulled the other slightly away from the horse, she realised Azmere was addressing another one of her dogs. She took a sharp intake of breath, remembering how they had met on that day. But he was behaving much better, smiling at the pup, then at her. Grey had listened to him, sitting patiently on the ground with tail thumping against the dirt. When he asked about their lineage, Merevaika had to think about it, trying to remember what the man she had bought them off had told her.

"Yes, yes," she finally spoke, mimicking her words with signs, "Mother was intelligent and fast, fastest hunter known to Riverfall, and their father could take down deer on his own." As far as she knew, that was true, but what did it matter? She would say they had good lineage even if they didn't. "That is Grey," at his name, the dog looked up towards her, "He's the best behaved." Merevaika looked at him with a slightly rougher gaze, "The one you kicked was Mika. Brave, adventurous, seems a lot like his father, from what I know. There’s another too, Freya, who can smell something from a mile away. But she was bought by another." She whistled, the other dog bounding up. He was cautious - Mika could see his attacker. With that, she turned, taking the last wolf down from Eryunt, who shook himself free. She pulled his yvas off seconds later, leaving everything on the ground as the horse trotted off to refresh himself. "Do you own dogs?"