20th of Spring, 511 AV
Dayn smelled as any men should, of sweat, leather, and damp, sweet grass, but as he trudged past the spring-fed basin, he suddenly felt like taking a bath. It was shortly after midday, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. The sun glared down upon his brow. He was stifling beneath layers of cloth, fur, and metal, his tunic already soaked through, tiny beads of sweat trickling into his eyes. At least it’s not the desert, he thought, where the sun is so bright it sears your flesh and the dusty air is painful to breathe. No, this wasn’t at all like the desert. But it was still petching uncomfortable.
Pausing by the edge of the basin, he stared at his reflection in the water, disregarding the few spidery beetles that skittered across its otherwise placid surface. He wasn’t eager to continue his journey. His father would only be unpleasant, as usual, and then there was his daughter to consider. How old was she now, ten? Twelve? She probably hates me, Dayn frowned, and with good reason. He'd walked out on her, after all. He was good at that.
Moving to a cluster of sun-warmed rocks, he set down his cloak, weapons, and heavy pack, then started to unfasten the motley buckles and straps that kept his armor from shifting uncomfortably as he walked. It took a while, but finally he was able to extricate himself from their rigid embrace and peel off his tunic and trousers, exposing himself to the squirrels that chattered excitedly from their trees.
“Don’t get excited,” he grinned at them. “I’m not that pretty.”
Dayn waded into the water, then dove under, taking a few strokes before he surfaced for air. The bottom was sandy, with a few pebbles that dug painfully into his feet, but the water was clear and cold. He sluiced it over his tense, rippling muscles, absently tracing the contours of his tattoo. For reasons beyond his understanding, his body was latticed with scars except for where it was stained with chaotic whorls. Lying back in the water, he felt a new vigor surge into his bones, stealing away his cares. The chirps of a sparrow rose above the rustling leaves. Dayn settled back in the water, closing his eyes, a faint smile on his lips. This was the life. No worries, no sorrows – just the calm of a warm spring afternoon. If any bears come nosing around, I’m going to be very petching annoyed, he thought idly, although given the choice, he’d sooner encounter a bear than many of the other creatures that lurked in this region.
For a time, Dayn was at peace, his chest rising and falling slowly as he floated on the serene waters. Then he stood up, shaking the water from his short hair, feeling it lap gently at his thighs. The soap. He’d forgotten to bring the soap.