Summer 79, 516 AV
early morning
The days had grown hot under Syna's baleful glare, and the nights too; hot enough that she had reverted to roosting on one of the pavilion's poles overnight, finding the interior altogether too warm for comfort. That had been a minor inconvenience; worse, Khida's traps had failed for several days straight, no matter how many rivulets and pools she sought out to place them around. It took a great deal of searching; most of the hollows and gullies she could find had been rendered entirely dry by the season, without even enough surface water to nourish a rabbit. Game trails between water sources proved no better for her fortune; it seemed luck, whatever god might rule that domain (if one did), was not on her side.
Khida didn't expect this day to be any different. But she had to keep trying.
So it was that the first half-light of the morning, when the sky had grown bright enough to illumine the landscape but before Syna peeked over the horizon, found the Kelvic hauling gear from the pavilion to where her Strider stood, patiently expectant. She assembled Sephra's tack -- pad and breastband and girth and bags -- and then followed with her own, which was mostly the bow Khida didn't expect to use and extra cord in one yvas bag. Her knife and replacement snares and waterskin and the like, the woman carried herself.
She had gained considerable practice mounting the horse over the season, and leapt up into the yvas more-or-less smoothly. While sitting on the horse's back still wasn't precisely comfortable, Khida no longer felt like she was at risk of keeling over and falling. Enough so that she had become accustomed to not maintaining a deathgrip on the horse's barrel with her legs, and letting her body flow with the horse's motion. At least provided Sephra maintained reasonable gaits -- and Khida suspected the definitions of reasonable still differed between horse and rider.
Sephra knew her rider's daily routine by now, and needed no conscious prompting from Khida to point herself in the direction of yesterday's emplaced traps. The horse walked her way out beyond the tent city's bounds while Khida gave attention to her seat -- knees loose, back straight, posture firm without tension. The horse moved, and she moved, and for a few chimes, all was well.
Then they passed the outer herds in their flocks, and the Strider picked up her pace, moving into the loping three-beat gait she seemed to favor for travel. It was certainly not Khida's preference, as she quickly began to bounce against the yvas, each collision rattling up her spine. It had something to do with how the horse moved (obviously), not just forward as in her walk but also up and down. It was rhythmic, patterned, perfectly predictable; yet though Khida knew to anticipate every jarring bounce, how to ride them out comfortably continued to elude her.
Listening to the horse's motion had made riding Sephra at a walk... manageable, although longer days still tended to wear on Khida's muscles, particularly her abdomen and lower back. But this faster, jagged gait she found much more difficult to comprehend. She'd learned not to grip with her knees. She'd learned not to let her legs brace forward -- that attempt had sent the jarring reverberations down her legs as well as up her spine, and only a desperate grip on the yvas handles had kept Khida from promptly falling off, that time. Gripping with her legs -- whether upper or lower -- didn't seem to help either, and she was pretty sure the way her torso rocked didn't help, but what was she to do about it?
Relaxation, the mode of listening with her body, remained elusive as the ticks lengthened into chimes. Khida kept herself on the horse, simply by dint of reacting -- her shoulders stiff, her hands tightening on the handles at need, now gripping with a leg only to remember that wasn't useful... but when it felt like one more impact was going to rattle her right out of the yvas, tightening down was instinctive. Fortunately, while the rider had difficulties comprehending the horse's motion, the reverse was not the case; soon enough, Sephra slowed back down to a walk, huffing what Khida could only label a sigh. The cant of the horse's ears was distinctly displeased.
Khida might have apologized for her terrible riding -- it couldn't be any more comfortable for the Strider to carry her -- except she hadn't asked for the horse to speed up in the first place!
early morning
The days had grown hot under Syna's baleful glare, and the nights too; hot enough that she had reverted to roosting on one of the pavilion's poles overnight, finding the interior altogether too warm for comfort. That had been a minor inconvenience; worse, Khida's traps had failed for several days straight, no matter how many rivulets and pools she sought out to place them around. It took a great deal of searching; most of the hollows and gullies she could find had been rendered entirely dry by the season, without even enough surface water to nourish a rabbit. Game trails between water sources proved no better for her fortune; it seemed luck, whatever god might rule that domain (if one did), was not on her side.
Khida didn't expect this day to be any different. But she had to keep trying.
So it was that the first half-light of the morning, when the sky had grown bright enough to illumine the landscape but before Syna peeked over the horizon, found the Kelvic hauling gear from the pavilion to where her Strider stood, patiently expectant. She assembled Sephra's tack -- pad and breastband and girth and bags -- and then followed with her own, which was mostly the bow Khida didn't expect to use and extra cord in one yvas bag. Her knife and replacement snares and waterskin and the like, the woman carried herself.
She had gained considerable practice mounting the horse over the season, and leapt up into the yvas more-or-less smoothly. While sitting on the horse's back still wasn't precisely comfortable, Khida no longer felt like she was at risk of keeling over and falling. Enough so that she had become accustomed to not maintaining a deathgrip on the horse's barrel with her legs, and letting her body flow with the horse's motion. At least provided Sephra maintained reasonable gaits -- and Khida suspected the definitions of reasonable still differed between horse and rider.
Sephra knew her rider's daily routine by now, and needed no conscious prompting from Khida to point herself in the direction of yesterday's emplaced traps. The horse walked her way out beyond the tent city's bounds while Khida gave attention to her seat -- knees loose, back straight, posture firm without tension. The horse moved, and she moved, and for a few chimes, all was well.
Then they passed the outer herds in their flocks, and the Strider picked up her pace, moving into the loping three-beat gait she seemed to favor for travel. It was certainly not Khida's preference, as she quickly began to bounce against the yvas, each collision rattling up her spine. It had something to do with how the horse moved (obviously), not just forward as in her walk but also up and down. It was rhythmic, patterned, perfectly predictable; yet though Khida knew to anticipate every jarring bounce, how to ride them out comfortably continued to elude her.
Listening to the horse's motion had made riding Sephra at a walk... manageable, although longer days still tended to wear on Khida's muscles, particularly her abdomen and lower back. But this faster, jagged gait she found much more difficult to comprehend. She'd learned not to grip with her knees. She'd learned not to let her legs brace forward -- that attempt had sent the jarring reverberations down her legs as well as up her spine, and only a desperate grip on the yvas handles had kept Khida from promptly falling off, that time. Gripping with her legs -- whether upper or lower -- didn't seem to help either, and she was pretty sure the way her torso rocked didn't help, but what was she to do about it?
Relaxation, the mode of listening with her body, remained elusive as the ticks lengthened into chimes. Khida kept herself on the horse, simply by dint of reacting -- her shoulders stiff, her hands tightening on the handles at need, now gripping with a leg only to remember that wasn't useful... but when it felt like one more impact was going to rattle her right out of the yvas, tightening down was instinctive. Fortunately, while the rider had difficulties comprehending the horse's motion, the reverse was not the case; soon enough, Sephra slowed back down to a walk, huffing what Khida could only label a sigh. The cant of the horse's ears was distinctly displeased.
Khida might have apologized for her terrible riding -- it couldn't be any more comfortable for the Strider to carry her -- except she hadn't asked for the horse to speed up in the first place!
Khida space Common | Pavi
other space Common | Pavi
other space Common | Pavi