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49th of Spring, 516 AV
Mid afternoon
Four weeks had passed since Akasja and her Drykas guide had left the relative safety of Endrykas. The first couple of weeks had landed the pair halfway across Cyphrus, at the river’s end, in the area where Enrdrykas would settle again come summer. The next two weeks had been even more tiring than the first, and without a river to guide them, Akasja found herself seeking a sense of direction through the plains around her. It was no easy task. As long as they kept the setting sun behind them, Akasja knew they were headed in the right direction every day, but other than that, she would have been mercilessly lost on the plains were it not for her loyal and gracious Drykas guide.
Akasja did know, according to what the guide had told her and what she had heard prior from other Drykas, that they were getting closer to Sylira because of the increasing hilliness of the terrain. By the 40th day of Spring, not far ahead in the distance, Akasja had finally seen the western mountains of Sylira. Not long after that, the traveling pair crossed the border unceremoniously, save for the shared expressions of relief on both of their faces.
It was the 49th day of Spring, and Akasja and her guide were almost swallowed by the hills and rocky terrain. Still, one formation of giant rocks stood out above the rest, a mere mile away: something the guide referred to as “the caern”. The Drykas told Akasja it was an ancient burial place -and an easy meeting spot. It also let them know that they were only five days to a week from reaching the city of Syliras.
By the time the pair reached the foot of the caern, Akasja felt a renewed sense of determination. They were no longer so far from safety, from a new city and new ways of life. She and the guide were able to pause for a while, to look around them at the shorter hills below and at the sparsely forested landscape, taking in the increasingly bountiful greenery with relieved contentment. Yes, they had to be on alert most of the time, but what was the journey worth if one could never enjoy it? The mountains were tough to navigate, but here the lushness of the flora was a little forgiving.
“This place let us see far,” the guide spoke. “Not many people make problems here. They respect the caern.”
“It is beautiful here,” Akasja agreed with quiet reverence, her eyes ceaselessly scanning the landscape below them. Here, undisturbed and in good health, Akasja felt the warmth of her ancestors on the spring breeze. They had followed her all this way, she was certain. Hopefully by this evening, Akasja thought, she and her guide would come upon the next solid place to set up camp -somewhere he had mentioned earlier- and they both would sleep well, knowing their destination was no longer far off.
Suddenly, Akasja’s gaze caught movement among the lower cliffs. Her brow furrowed as she peered through the trees and brush to see what it could be – and her breath caught in her throat.
The black face of the beast was striking and large, with a strong, tapered muzzle. Its eyes scanned the forest, glowing golden amber in the afternoon light. As it trotted, its dark chocolate, grey, and charcoal-colored fur bounced with each floating, effortless step. Pausing, the beast sniffed at the ground, then raised its nose and scented the air. Before Akasja could even move to point it out to her guide, she had lost sight of it entirely.
“You followed us,” Akasja whispered in Tawna, staring into the forest below. She turned slowly to her guide. “The wolf,” she spoke to him in Common, then signed the word for follow. She didn't even question whether or not it was the same one that had howled for them weeks ago at their campsite on the plains; Akasja had a strong feeling that it was.
The weathered Drykas smiled amusedly, running his fingers along his thick moustache as he peered into the hills below. The wolf could no longer be seen, but it was out there.
“I told you...that is a stubborn one,” he mused.
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49th of Spring, 516 AV
Mid afternoon
Four weeks had passed since Akasja and her Drykas guide had left the relative safety of Endrykas. The first couple of weeks had landed the pair halfway across Cyphrus, at the river’s end, in the area where Enrdrykas would settle again come summer. The next two weeks had been even more tiring than the first, and without a river to guide them, Akasja found herself seeking a sense of direction through the plains around her. It was no easy task. As long as they kept the setting sun behind them, Akasja knew they were headed in the right direction every day, but other than that, she would have been mercilessly lost on the plains were it not for her loyal and gracious Drykas guide.
Akasja did know, according to what the guide had told her and what she had heard prior from other Drykas, that they were getting closer to Sylira because of the increasing hilliness of the terrain. By the 40th day of Spring, not far ahead in the distance, Akasja had finally seen the western mountains of Sylira. Not long after that, the traveling pair crossed the border unceremoniously, save for the shared expressions of relief on both of their faces.
It was the 49th day of Spring, and Akasja and her guide were almost swallowed by the hills and rocky terrain. Still, one formation of giant rocks stood out above the rest, a mere mile away: something the guide referred to as “the caern”. The Drykas told Akasja it was an ancient burial place -and an easy meeting spot. It also let them know that they were only five days to a week from reaching the city of Syliras.
By the time the pair reached the foot of the caern, Akasja felt a renewed sense of determination. They were no longer so far from safety, from a new city and new ways of life. She and the guide were able to pause for a while, to look around them at the shorter hills below and at the sparsely forested landscape, taking in the increasingly bountiful greenery with relieved contentment. Yes, they had to be on alert most of the time, but what was the journey worth if one could never enjoy it? The mountains were tough to navigate, but here the lushness of the flora was a little forgiving.
“This place let us see far,” the guide spoke. “Not many people make problems here. They respect the caern.”
“It is beautiful here,” Akasja agreed with quiet reverence, her eyes ceaselessly scanning the landscape below them. Here, undisturbed and in good health, Akasja felt the warmth of her ancestors on the spring breeze. They had followed her all this way, she was certain. Hopefully by this evening, Akasja thought, she and her guide would come upon the next solid place to set up camp -somewhere he had mentioned earlier- and they both would sleep well, knowing their destination was no longer far off.
Suddenly, Akasja’s gaze caught movement among the lower cliffs. Her brow furrowed as she peered through the trees and brush to see what it could be – and her breath caught in her throat.
The black face of the beast was striking and large, with a strong, tapered muzzle. Its eyes scanned the forest, glowing golden amber in the afternoon light. As it trotted, its dark chocolate, grey, and charcoal-colored fur bounced with each floating, effortless step. Pausing, the beast sniffed at the ground, then raised its nose and scented the air. Before Akasja could even move to point it out to her guide, she had lost sight of it entirely.
“You followed us,” Akasja whispered in Tawna, staring into the forest below. She turned slowly to her guide. “The wolf,” she spoke to him in Common, then signed the word for follow. She didn't even question whether or not it was the same one that had howled for them weeks ago at their campsite on the plains; Akasja had a strong feeling that it was.
The weathered Drykas smiled amusedly, running his fingers along his thick moustache as he peered into the hills below. The wolf could no longer be seen, but it was out there.
“I told you...that is a stubborn one,” he mused.
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