8th of Fall, 518AV
The pass leading up to the mountain seemed unusually busy. Their caravan had hit the furthest out waystation two nights before, camped, and then headed out. They passed the harvesting fields, which was where it became “busy”. There seemed to be workings running to and from the fields and the mountain, scaling a small staircase that rippled down from the mountain, clinging to the bare rocks between the sparse trees. It was harvest.
“Hey chak-tay-ya.”
“Chock-taw-way.” She muttered the correct pronunciation to the Human who rode up beside her. Lani didn’t even bother to correct him that she wasn’t entirely Chaktawe, but the eyes were her most remarkable trait. She was crouched in the back of the wagon, her riding skills were perfectly shitty, a thing the caravan had discovered when she paid to join them. It saved her the cost of renting a horse for the travel, but it did keep an ever-present cloud of shame hovering over her, especially with the more experienced travelers.
“Yeah, whatever, this is your stop.”
“I kinda figured that, it isn’t like the cities are close together.” She ignored the man, squinting up past the sun to look at Mt. Skynarta. What a name.
“Well, unless you can pay us to make it to Anvathal, when I say this is your stop, I mean it’s time to get off.”
“What right now? Aren’t ya’ll getting on a boat?”
“Yes, we are. But if you want to make it to the city today, there is no point in following us around the mountain and then going up the sea pass.”
“Oh, yeah, yeah that makes sense.” She muttered, turning to her pack which was sitting on a crate beside her. There wasn’t much room, and she didn’t have much stuff, so she slipped it onto her back, standing on the edge of the wagon, to stretch her legs and time her jump. The horses were walking at their usual slow pace, and she had made this jump a billion times on the route. Lani stepped off the wagon, letting her legs roll into the ground, absorbing the impact and landed in a crouch. The traveler stopped his horse beside her, and she checked her pack to make sure her ritual bowl was okay.
“Good luck, Chaktawe.” He said solemnly, actually getting the name right, and she got the feeling he was messing with her for the last thousand miles. Lani snorted at him, adjusting her pack and looking towards the trail that led to the extreme stairs she saw earlier. She could already see four or five people starting the climb not too far from her. She turned to wave at the caravan, and the man had already turned his horse around and was catching up. So much for comradery.