[Wanah'ite] The Bonding

[Rufio]

　　

13 th winter 515
15 th bell

The storm had come on early that morning. Syna's light was dimmed, hidden in plumes of ominous black clouds; Zulrav rumbled and groaned overhead.

Rufio trudged alone in the Sea of Grass, her boots making dull thuds which were drowned out in Zulrav's voice as she made her way East and North of Endrykas.

The Wildmane wanderer cast furtive glances at the foreboding sky and muttered prayers under her breath. Though she had wrapped up warmly in furs, she found herself shivering.

Alone, with each fork of lightning that flashed across the sky, she felt the subtle hues of fear grasping at her.

Louka's warnings a few days ago echoed in her thoughts.

❇ ❇ ❇

"Please, Rufio, let me go with you."
Concern, pleading.

The woman shook her head and insisted.
"I've got'a do this alone, Louka."
Seek meaning, prayer, bonding.

Louka considered her with a serious, searching look, his large round doe-eyes full of worry and a deeper understanding. He sighed loudly and put his feelings into his sign- take care, be safe -before he embraced her tightly.

"-Don't take too long. Tal'ck will be furious if he finds out." And they had laughed together at that.

❇ ❇ ❇

Rufio's stomach churned with concern, now. She regretted not letting Louka come with her. He had more experience of the grasslands for one. She chewed her lip and cast another glance to the heavens. A fork of lightning flickered in the distance and Zulrav's voice chased it with a mighty rumble.

It was no good to want after what 'could be', now.

The half-Drykas reached around for the bedroll and Winter blanket she had rolled her tools and rations up in and strapped to her back. Tucked into a fold was a crudely drawn map that Louka had made for her the night before she had left, three nights ago now.

On it he had made landmarks, one of them stood for The Serenity Tree, and Ru's destination in mind. Standing again, Ru looked about her at the plains. Grasses as far as her eyes could see; unchanging, unending. It made her a little dizzy to look for too long.

She saw no distinctive landmarks that Louka had spoken of. With a frown, she looked up and searched for Syna. There was a blurry light over yonder, and Ru figured she had been walking for at least twelve bells since dawn.

"So that puts me...South-West of The Tree..."
She mused uncertainly for a tick or two.

Before the half-Drykas let out a frustrated growl. Ru was loathe to feel so indecisive; characteristically so at ease within herself, and not used to this battle of self-doubt.

Folding up the crude map roughly, she stuffed it in her makeshift backpack. With a decisive nod, the woman used the blurry position of Syna to half-accurately guess north-east, and she pressed on.

Denial was a troublesome thing; Rufio refused to admit she was afraid of the lightning, and she refused to admit that she was more than a little lost, even to herself.
　　

[Rufio]

18 th bell

❇ ❇ ❇

The storm grew worse.

Zulrav's temper loomed in the stillness, the silence of the grassland made his roar defeaning. Lightning streaked across the dark clouds, tearing great rifts in their soft flesh.

Rufio was running—thud, thud, thud—came her light footfalls against the grasses. Her heart was thumping just as fast. Ru's face was lit up with the fork of sky-fire and panic snaked its way insiduously into her face.

When a man had been struck dead in front of her by Zulrav in the Summer passed, within Ru had been born a true fear of lightning.

Ahead, gnarled trees took shape against the gloomy backdrop. Their spiny fingers skeletal against the heavens. Rufio felt an eerie prickle shiver up her spine and came to a halt at the edge of Wanah'ite.

Her dark-eyes took in the black bark and crawling lichen of those silent sentinels. Her expression stricken with indecision for the umpteenth time. Go in or take her fare in the open?...Rufio felt unease settle heavy in her stomach.

When the hairs on her arms raised, and Rufio felt a strange static tickle along her scalp; just then Zulrav sent down a fiery fork of lightning!

"Aahh!"
A scream was torn from Ru's lips.

Its tendrils seared the ground naught twenty paces behind her. She felt Semele groan and shake beneath, smelt the charred flora. It was the thundering 'boom!' that erupted all around her, which startled the half-Drykas.

She launched herself into the copse of strange, twisted trees—a hare stricken with panic blindly leaping out of danger—she ran.

❇ ❇ ❇

She kept running, and running.

Zulrav's temper thundering above the spiny trees, spurring her on. Her heart was a flurry in her chest, and her dark-eyes were wild with fear.

At last a pain seared in her side and her breaths became heated, her lungs raw. She had to stop. Rufio stumbled over a root and landed heavily on her hands and knees "Ow..."

Her breaths came in great gasping waves, and Ru leant back on her heels, waiting for her heart to slow. Her panic jarred from her by the fall, the half-Drykas begun to peer around her.

"What is this?..." She wondered aloud, baffled by the amount of trees here. She had never heard of a wood in the Sea of Grass.

At that thought she spun around and tried to glimpse the edge of the copse. With a sinking dread, Ru realised she had fled far in, and now she couldn't tell which way was out.

Under these strange, gnarled, reaching trees, the thunder sounded dim and muffled. The air was close, and heavy.

Rufio shivered, still, as she got to her feet.

　　

[Tribal]

The elders tell stories about the lost swamps of Wanah'ite, a place few have ever managed to find on purpose. Like the Sea of Grass, this stretch of woods is shrouded mystery, both foreboding and strange. Some say the trees move, that they have learned to walk and whisper to one another in the still of the night, destined to follow the water wherever it runs. Others believe that Wanah'ite is haunted by all the souls of those cursed to roam the earth, forbidden to undergo the right of reincarnation. A place where malevolence dwells; those who venture too deep into the labyrinth tend to disappear.

Amongst the dark and naked trees the wind seemed to die down, though beyond the wall of wicked silhouettes and twisted vines of ancient moss the sky still howled, where overhead, Zulrav made his voice heard. Thunder rumbled as if trapped in the belly of Semele below the fallen woman, and all around the song of the swamp chimed. Frogs croaked, wood creaked, birds called to one another lowly, and somewhere in the distance someone or something screamed.

Up ahead the shadow of a lone wolf dashed between the trees, drawn to the cry. Soon his pack mates would join in the larking, drawn like sharks to the distressed call of a wind born stallion, wild blood on the air. If the girl went west she might find home sooner or later, it wasn't too late to turn back, not yet, but to venture further into the swamps promised only danger and a fate set by the gods. Murky water flooded most of the ground here and moving about was often difficult.

He was the son of earth and wind, as wild and free as the sea. The scars on his legs told of a history of near misses and narrow escapes, both from the dangers of this land and the people who every now and then dared to call it home. His neck was marked by rope burn and his muzzle wrapped in tanned and dyed leather, a set of reins thrown up and tangled in the low hanging branches. Powerful legs stood buried in cold mud that now touched the soft, unforgiving and hungry.

[Rufio]

　　

Mysterious, ominous. Shadows danced and played amidst the creepy chorus, punctuated by that terrible cry. Rufio started, breath sucked in sharply to her throat.

A wolfish visage flickered in the semi-dark and her heart stammered. Touched with icy fear. From deep within, where the gut and all its intuitive ken dwells, dragged up the urge to meet whatever made the cry.

Compelled to race the woman tore through the trees. Blood pumping, heart thumping, her thoughts came a flurry of curious confusion.

What would she find at the source of that helpless cry? Was there really a beast? Had she seen it? Was it real?—Was it real?

Her boots made heavy, muffled thuds against the spongy, moss covered ground, soon splashing in and out of the edges of he murky waters. Wherein ghastly, ghostly reflections wavered in the ripples, grey and dim.

Stopped, suddenly, her right foot sunk deeply into the mud where she cried out—"Ahhg!"—as it sucked and gripped and she fell palms-first forward. Her fingers, splayed, sunk a little into the soft earth. Sweat beaded across her caramel skin as she looked backward, and then at the path ahead.

There he was. A strider struggling half-sunk in the mud, his head and neck raw red, entangled in some foreign head-gear. Her cocoa-gaze took in his dull, pallid coat, the frustrated desperation in his eyes, and the myriad of scars chipped into his flesh, worn. He was in trouble.

"..'Makes the two of us." Ru muttered gently, throwing an anxious glance over her shoulder. Shivers rolled up her spine, prickling as though something were watching. She couldn't be sure if there really was anything or if it were just her fear tricking her into feeling so.

With some effort, and strain, Ru began to heave her foot free from the mud. Her fingers sunk deeper as she leaned forward. "Nnnghh!" Reluctantly her foot came, though not her boot with a sudden—plop!

"Just wait..." She called to the Strider, not sure if he would understand or trust her. She made a show for friend though she wondered if the stallion, wild as he was, would recognise it.

With that she begun to labour her way across the soft mud, losing her other boot in the process—"Nghhh-"—she groaned. Losing patience with Wanah'ite, she forgot her fear for a tick and complained—"Fine, y' want my boots, have them!-" You ain't getting me or that Strider.

As she neared the stallion she begun to speak to him in a soft voice, lilting with a Shiber accent without realising—"It's alright, I'm gonna get us out of this.." Stubborn determination set in the square of her jaw as she made her way closer, inch by difficult inch.

As she neared, her sense of smell caught the rotting stench of the dead carcass of a buck half-decomposed, half-buried in the mud. It's eye-less sockets black and staring, mouth agape as if in silent scream, bits of shredded flesh clinging to the yellow bones.

Ru paused and covered her nose with her forearm, her face grimaced in disgust. As she habituated to the smell, a sadness weighted her heart. It was sad that it had died here, in this place, in this way.

The carcass a reflection of the possibility of her future, and the stallion's, taunted at the edge of her mind. It spurred her to press on, and she finally made it to the horse. Standing bare-foot, unsteadily, on a clump of grasses to stay above the quagmire.

Zulrav's voice still thunderous, though distant, above the heavy cloak of the copse.
　　

[Azmere]

As the thunder rolled within a set of clouds that spit lightning across the sky, the strider resisted the rope around its neck but not so much as to leave his feet with the human girl so close. His big eyes watched her as if knowing something. The pointed ears twitched at her words and in response he shook out his mane and released a blow that shook his lips. His frame stilled as he stared at Rufio. If the stallion could speak, what would he say? Would it be ‘Save me’? Or were these signals a physical manifestation of a warning?

The movement in the trees continued to be a disturbance as the lone set of eyes had now become two. Their hungry maws were slack from the gluttonous drive for flesh. The strider is a large meal and one that the scout had been cautiously eyeing but the arrival of the two-legged creature made its fangs wet with saliva. The storm front was moving quickly with the help of a stiffly cold breeze. The thunder could be felt from the ground and the flashing bursts of heat made all creatures wary that Zulrav was in a foul mood. An errant bolt landed in the trees a ways back from the soggy clearaning and everything stopped. The wind died down until the stagnant smells of death and mud were once again a haze around the woman. Even the predators and the stallion didn’t move. It seemed like every eye was on the girl. The shrill cry of a raven split the silence and then the clouds opened up.

Rain dropped in buckets of cold drops that felt like stinging chunks of ice. It was not refreshing. Driving sheets of water crashed down in wave after wave upon the girl and the horse. The wolves had seemed to retreat for now. Even their hunger wasn’t enough to keep them out in the harsh weather. The stallion pulled and tugged at the rope for a moment opening a piece of skin and letting the rain rinse the rope burn as trickles of blood ran down its chest. The pain was brief but it released something inside the stallion. His big eyes looked to the girl as if pleading for mercy. For a tick, the gaze was held and then he lowered his head; his pride gone. The horse had accepted defeat and lowered himself down onto his legs into the muck which was becoming worse as the water soaked in and added to the mire.

Bell after bell, the sky wept. It was as if Zulrav was mourning the loss of his strider. The majestic creature was no longer a pinnacle of strength and defiance. His circumstances had transformed him into the skeleton lodged within the earth. Dead. Waste. The water was pooling around his body and it seemed that every drop was causing the big animal to sink deeper into Semele’s skin. Then suddenly the rain stopped. The clouds hung low and the cold wind moved on. Within chimes the heat of the swamp returned but it was fueled by a humidity that was so intense it was oppressive. Fog rolled up in wisps and curled in crooked fingers and claws around the strider as if to claim him for the muck. This might have seemed like a desperate situation but the still air gave way to the rustling of padded feet.

The eyes had returned. Once again, the stares of hunger and ferocity met the horse and woman from amidst the gnarled and deformed trees. Yellow eyes of putrid acid were paired with razor like teeth and long tongues that wagged in anticipation of their upcoming feast. There were four of them now; two on either side of the unlikely duo and every snapping twig or huffed breath brought the closer to their quarry. They did not strike yet or even appear to be ready for such action. It was as if the beasts were waiting for the darkness of night to wash over the land before they set upon Rufio and the stallion. The smell of death was thick but stale. It seemed the swamp of Wanah’ite was corralling its residents to refresh the mud with the blood of these two unfortunate souls.

Textbox courtesy of Firenze

[Rufio]

　　
Cahw-cahw!—came the Raven's call, and Rufio started in that oppressive silence, oblivious to the yellow eyes hungrily watching. Her arms were held defensively aloft, knees half-crouched, as her dark cropped hair spilled into her muddy face, and deep gaze flickered along the trees. Heart, thumping.

When the heavens opened, Rufio felt the icy sting of its needles, and gasped sharply. Perfect. Rufio cussed her luck, and sent a silent sprayer to Zulrav. With the stallion's blood drawn in his struggle, Rufio saw the red and held up her palms in earnest plea. Halt, halt, plea.

Her brow furrowed and water trickled down her face in torrents, making traces in the dirt as the Strider succumbed to Wannah'ite, and bowed. Rufio felt unabashed anger broil within the pit of her stomach, unbidden, guttural and instinct.
The half-Drykas' will risen to battle against the elements.

Rufio stepped off her grassy pedestal, her left foot sinking deep into the swamp, and then the other, as she stepped down beside the stallion. Near him now, she felt her breath in her chest, great icy sheets of rain stabbing her goose-pricked flesh. Her dark gaze connected with Caihya's son's, and for a moment a spark of heat flitted between them.

She felt the plea grip at her, draw her near him, and with gentle, tentative movements, placed her palms on his muscled body. His soft hide, his blood stained her right hand. She tried to undo the tangle of the reins, Gordian-esque. With a grunt of defeat, she signed— Hopeless—and murmured gently—"We've gotta get out of this mud."

With that she slowly wrapped her arm around the Strider's neck, her other she drove into the mud with force that hurt her hands, to find his foreleg. With all her small might, she heaved. "C'mon, you got' to get out!" Her tone thick with Shiber, her voice permated with need. They strained, the swamps gripped harder.

After thirty chimes, Rufio collapsed, tired and out-of-breath against the stallion's shoulder. She was now sunk into the mud to her thighs, and at risk of getting stuck along with him. Morale sinking, her eyes fell on the deer carcass.

Struck by its silent shrieks, its gaping eyes, Rufio looked away and felt tears fill her eyes. She couldn't leave him to his fate, she couldn't.

"I won't leave you here." Not like this. Something deep within awoke and, as her hands stroked his neck, his matted mane, his cheeks, the rain ceased. Rufio looked up to the grey above. What would she do now?

The eyes returned, hungry, ferocious. Licking maws salivating, yellow fangs snapping. Rufio heard them, at last, and her gaze snapped round to see those four beasts, edging closer, just beyond the cover of the spiny trees. Her heart leapt to race.

Rufio hugged at the stallion protectively. Panic prickled at the edge of her senses. The deer skull flickering in the corner of her gaze. The half-Drykas' fingers fumbled with the reins but she couldn't reach the branches in which they were tangled, not without clambering atop his back.

　　

[Azmere]

The weather shifted into a haze of muggy misery that was akin to stealing the breath of those within the region. Even the hungry masses seemed to feel the weight of such oppression for they had yet to move on the stranded horse and stubborn woman. Beauty and beast stood out in contrast to the grey of everything. The ground was grey, the trees were grey, the sky was grey and so were the predators stalking in slow paces. Yet here stood a tan woman with a fiery gaze and a strider the color of sand; together they seemed an almost fitting centerpiece for the dreary world that surrounded them. As the carrion birds gathered, the wolves snapped their jaws at one another while others panted loudly. The time for rest was over. One of the more mangy beasts jogged with light steps around a gnarled root and headed towards Rufio’s left side. His pace was causal and while he seemed to approaching out of curiosity’s sake; the pinching vice of his companions lead one to believe otherwise. It paused about five feet from the girl. The snout pointed up at her taking in the woman’s scent almost like it was drinking her aroma. Another beast came up behind the strider and snapped at the horse’s right hind leg. The spunky stallion shot his hoof straight back and the whimper which followed let all know the connection was solid. The dogs slunk closer still despite their brethren taking a kick to the chops.

From the midst of the trees well behind where this strange congregation had met, a terrifying and massive roar shook the very mud that Rufio was standing on and rattled the trees sending the birds to flight. The wolves all paused, looked around and then fled back into the shadows from whence they came. A second roar sent a shockwave through the muck that surrounded the girl. This stirred the horse as well. Something was coming and it shook the animal to his bones. The horse struggled against the reins and the mud with a furious thrashing for a tick then stopped and lowered his head. He pressed his nose against the woman’s leg. Nuzzling against her, he dropped his front legs while extending his hind legs essentially turning his body into a ramp for her to use.

The wind was picking up again but it wasn’t cold as before. The gusts that blew were hot and foul as if coming from the heart of Wanah’ite, itself. Whatever was heading towards them was not pleasant and the rushing air foretold of the misery that was creeping towards the woman and her adopted horse. To make things worse, if Rufio was paying attention, she would see all manner of critters running away from the trees; rodents, birds and even small predators were fleeing into the open bogs towards the grasslands. What could be so horrible? A third roar bristled through the trees shaking the twisted trunks and reverberating through the ground. The strider urged the girl with his head to free him from the restraints. His eyes held life; a flicker in the dark orbs was making a deal with her. His very expression and posture was a token of gratitude; an offering of self to service. Free me. The wise stare claimed. Free me and I will serve you. All Drykas know that the souls of striders are Drykas who have walked beyond life into the web and now returned as the noble mounts. The gaze of this stallion was nothing less than human in its plea. Free us both!

Textbox courtesy of Firenze

[Rufio]

　
　
　
Fear prickled at her, leeching into her bones, making them feel icy.

Her breath sucked in, as the beasts stepped into the murky light, one by one. Her hands grasped at the foreign reins and tugged, her frantic gaze darted around, looking for the means to ward off those hungry fangs, sharp claws.

Her cocoa orbs alit, again, on the skeletal deer.
—Drawn to death.

Mysterious inspiration grasped at her thoughts, spurred her to race to its horny skull before the lupine predator might make it to her. They seemed leisurely, and Rufio felt utterly ill at ease.

Hearing the snap of jaws, the thud of hoof and canine whimper, her heart lurched into her throat and her face whipped around. Her bare foot sunk into a soft patch of mud, stuck, and she fell. Her palm grazed the sharp spine of the deer's antler, she winced. There were no ticks to waste in pain, though.

"Get away!" threat, warning. She tossed a feeble threat into the din, her voice thick with a Shiber accent.

Her fingers frantic, and bloody, as they roughly gripped the deer's impressive rack of bone. With a growl, she wrenched, the muscles in her arms tensing, aching.

SNAP!—bone splintered as the antler came free. Rufio clambered to her feet hastily, clumsily slipping in the mud, she backed up to the stallion, brandishing the sharp points of the antler in her hand like a weapon. She growled.

Her hopes that the wolves would understand the animal noise was short-lived. On the tail of that primitive rumble in her throat chased a deeper, darker deafening roar.

Rufio's heart stopped. The ground shook and she swayed against the stallion's sturdy frame. She peered desperately into the shadows. Only a wind swept through the trees to greet her uncertain terror, whipping through her muddy hair.

Her breath panting, her dark brow furrowed deeply with overwhelming unease, as the wolves fled. Shyke, shyke, shyke—what manner of creature made such a roar?

Feeling the horse nuzzle behind her knee, the panting woman turned to watch him kneel, and a grin licked in her stressed features. Clinging to her make-shift weapon in her left hand, the woman gently set her knee onto the horses' broad shoulder, placed her right palm on his rump, and leaned upwards.

Climbing up him, finally tall enough to reach the branches in which the reins were tangled, she slung her left wrist around it. Rough bark tore at the delicate skin, and she gritted her teeth. Getting a better grip, she pulled the branch lower, holding it between her bicep and elbow. Her wet fingers fumbled with the ropes, and finally let them loose.

Rufio felt a small triumph light in her chest, fleeting.

She carefully turned around, and slid a leg over each side of the horse's powerful body as he rose to his feet again. Her free right hand entwined in his thick mane to steady herself, he was much taller than any horse she had ridden before.

"We got it!" Her breathless praise came just as her deep ochre-gaze flickered to the trees. She pressed her heels into the stallion's sides, and rocked forwards, urging him to take them away from this nightmarish glade.

All that had passed were a few frantic chimes since the wolves had come out from under the shadows. Now, dread trickled tauntingly in the absence of their lupine tormentors.

Whatever had made that terrible noise—it had scared off Caiyha's beasts. Whatever it was that sparked terror in their wolfish hearts—
　　　　　　　　—it was coming!
　
　

[Azmere]

Terrible bursts of vibration continued to filter through the muck of the bog. The sounds of the roar were strange and terrifying but not half as much as the putrid odor that began to creep about the girl and horse. Rotten fish, decayed meat and acrid herbs replaced the smell of mud and rain. The hot air continued to pump adrenaline into the strider. His struggle was now one of waiting for the woman to get situated. Her exclamation brought light to the animal but also a restlessness as he began to prance in place trying to work his sunken form up to the surface. With her help that goal was being achieved. The stallion took the kick to the sides and used it as fuel. He jumped forth but didn’t go very far.

Another tremor and this time, there was no howl…just the strange smell and a bit of a green fog slipped along the ground curling its fingers against the muddy legs of the girl and her mount. The strider went into a panic. He kicked and lashed and climbed as if he were trying to scale a mountain. Without the focus of a rider, he only served to bur himself deeper into the mire. Terror could be heard with every whiny and knicker…such fear drove the horse to try over and over and over again to reach freedom regardless of how little effort he made. Once Rufio looked over her shoulder, she would know why.

Lingering at the edge of the Wanah’ite tree line was a chirigan. A creature unlike anything most would ever see lumbered closer for its meal. Ten feet tall and even longer in body, he seemed cramped among the gnarled trunks that protected the borders of the swamp. A monstrous shell lined with fins held together four powerful legs that finished with claws so large that a single one could cut a Drykas in half. One cluster of tress was actually preventing forward movement and the beast leveled a howl of frustration at the woman. Red eyes pierced the green fog that flowed from the creature. Fine teeth like dozens of arrowheads filled the mouth encircled by tentacles. Once the creature leaned into the tree but the wood did not budge. The second attempt failed as well which enraged the monster. It leaned back using the long, eel-like tail as balance so stand on its hind legs. In alternating blows with its huge claws, the fiend tore great chunks of wood from the base of the obstacles. Splinters, and shards flew every which way and some even at Rufio and her horse.

Now that the trees had been weakened, the chirigan fell upon them with the weight of its form and toppled two of the twisted trunks. One fell to the side and busted into smaller pieces as it fell against other trees. The second fell forward and landed directly behind the horse and his rider. The mud grabbed the branches and pulled it down. This coupled with the pursuit of the horrifying creature made the trunk roll sending the jagged branches in a spin that would engulf the unfortunate pair. Seeing its meal about to be skewered, the chirigan leapt forth and hissed. The action brought them almost within striking distance but also filled the space around the stallion and his savior with the green fog. It was not only putrid and disgusting but it stole the oxygen from their lungs. If ever there was a time for bravery this was it; for there would be no time after if she failed.

Textbox courtesy of Firenze

[Rufio]

　
　　　　 an otherworldly stench, decay.
　　　　Death coming, for them.

The Drykas wrinkled her nose, covering her face with the inner of her elbow, she turned towards the epicenter of the tremors. Fog belched between the spiny trees, wrapping its tendrils about their legs. Rufio didn't know what was coming, only that they had to get out.

The Strider lunged forward, and she gripped the head-gear he wore to stay atop his broad back. With worried eyes, she took in his sinking again, his struggling to move making it worse. Assertiveness born of necessity drove her to lead the beast. Her right hand slunk down his neck and she leant her chest against his withers.

"Whoa, whoooaa..." She soothed him with a Shiber-tinged thrum, sweeping her muddy bare feet to his hind, leaning low with her chest against his withers, as if they floated in water instead of bogged down in muck.
The sensations of his rider against his sensitive flanks reminded the stallion of how he would move in water. The Stallion grunted and, by instinct of Caihya's vibration, mirrored her body language. He arched his neck forward, elongated his body, his hooves found solid earth beneath the quagmire and he pushed, he drove against the bog.
　　　　　　They waded forward, steadily.
　　The rider felt another tremor and whipped her fearful freckled face around, mud flicking from her disheveled hair. "Ah!" She cried out.
　　　　　It—loomed
　　　　between the cage of spines
　　　　　　　　and bark—
　　　　　　　　　　　of scale and spines
　　　　　　and webbed claws
　　　　　　　　and belching stench.

　　　　　　　　　　　　　Coming, for them.

The stallion whinnied—ears flat, nostrils flared, teeth bared, eyes rolled wildly in his skull. Terror gripped at them, and Rufio gasped for breath, for prayer.
　　　　Caihya, Zulrav,
　　　Semele, Yahal.
　They egded closer to solid earth, nearer, nearer still. When the scent of sap infused the stench, crackle and splintering, the moan of trees falling. The stallion's fore-hoof broke free of the sludgy swap grasp and clomped onto dry-land.
　　　Triumph, panicked-relief, pain—
　　　　　—hot, splitting pain seared at her side.
　Caiyha's son and Semele's daughter screamed into Wanah'ite—but at last horse and rider hauled free of the bog. Just as the monster lashed!
Rufio twisted around, cried out, found herself choking on airlessness, slashed out with the deer-antler in a wild, blind-panicked frenzy. The tip of the sharp bone caught in flesh, stuck. Rufio twisted her shoulder and wrenched with all her might—her muscles screeched in protest—and the deer-antler ripped through the Chigrin's face.
　　A meager scratch to the Goliath, who roared in irritation.
　　　It was just enough distraction.
The Strider dug his heels deep into Semele, they drove into the trees. They rode as if by Zulrav's touch, like the wind. Rufio gripped her mount's neck with her arms, deer-antler fragment grasped in one hand as if become a part of her very bones. Tears flooded her gaze, and everything was a dark, spiny, endless blur.

As trees whipped past them, she felt their unflinching disappointment as their prey fled, their spiny fingers pointing, haunting, as if to say "we know where you go, Drykas".

The stench of decay lingered in her lungs, and when Rufio coughed and a sticky, wetness oozed at her side. The Drykas blinked her tears out of her eyes, and looked down at herself—she bled. The pain was sharp, hissing between clenched teeth.

Rufio leaned back to signal the animal to ease his stride, but Caiyha's son had had enough. He ran, and ran, and ran, until he set hoof on the grasslands.

　　　They tore from Wanah-ite's grasp.

The stallion finally slowed his long strides to a canter. Rufio took in a buffet of cool, fresh air until it felt like her lungs might burst. She coughed up a little blood, and clenched her side, her freckled features, sweat-licked and mud-painted, scrunched in pain. The Strider's pace waned into a trot, and then a walk.

It was then that Rufio heard his labored breaths, rasping up his windpipe and rustling in his chest. Fear, which she thought she left at Wanah'ite, sneaked it's tendrils into her again. Her gaze sought his starved, exposure-bitten hide and her heart skittered as—there—his right hind-quarter glittered in the moonlight.

The adrenaline that had seeped into her muscles and pumped strength and bravery through her veins begun to ebb into exhaustion. Resting her cheek against the stallion's warm hide, salty tears stung the grazes and scrapes laid across her skin and within chimes shivering convulsions raked her bones—as shock set in.

The Strider made soft, soothing grunts and nickers as he carried her wearily towards the West, and Endrykas.

　▹ :

So, so grateful to Azmere for taking on this thread & for his endlessly generous patience with it. Rx