[Flashback] The Patience of the Hunt (Wretch)

[Eshatoh]

OOCThe title of the thread doesn't really mean anything, but it sounds kinda dramatic, right?

509 Winter the 13th

Eshatoh stalked the few remaining hours before the sun touched the horizon. His pack was strapped snug against his back, shifting slightly with each long rhythmic step. The only sound to be heard was the slight hiss of disturbed sand with each footfall. The sun warmed his left shoulder, casting his shadow to mammoth proportions on his right. He followed the slight imprint left by a rabbit in the sand.

He was in no hurry. The trail would lead him to a burrow, and he would sleep there tonight. If he didn’t make it in time, well he had his pack with him. He wouldn’t need water for days yet, and he could find something to burn and set up camp anywhere. This wasn’t an especially dangerous section of the desert. Baral weren’t known to roam this far from the desert’s center, and the Eypharians kept the population of Tsanas nearly nonexistent this close to Ahnatep. The worst thing that he was likely to run into during the night was a golden wolf, and a wolf wouldn’t usually be bold enough to attack a human.

So he trod onward, his gaze flicking between the tracks he followed, the horizon, and the progress of the sunset. Just as he was preparing to give up pursuit Eshatoh crested a small rise to find a tiny dried up bit of streambed before him. A pair of acacia trees provided spidery shadows splayed across the scene, and an abundance of hummocks and bushes only added to the location’s potential for concealment.

If he was going to find threats, or if they were going to find him, this would be the place they were. Treading lightly, he circled the foliage, peering into the shadows with his eyes while at the same time probing the patch’s depths with the senses of his fingertips. After one full circumnavigation, he sat down still staring at the patch. He wasn’t going to get himself killed by simple lack of patience.

Still keeping watch with the fingers, Eshatoh pulled his father’s bone flute up to his lips, slipping the cord it was attached to over his head. Any predator lying in wait for him already knew he was here, the sounds of his flute had never scared off game before, and there was no reason he should waste a perfectly good opportunity to practice.

He let a low tone vibrate forth from the instrument. From there he broke into a few quick trills and then set the flute down on his knee. There was still no sign of movement from the copse. One by one he cracked his knuckles. It was his pre-practice ritual. He cracked each finger three different ways and then stretched his hand, pulling his fingers as far apart as they’d go from each other.

Satisfied, he picked the flute back up and began his practice. First, he rapidly performed scale drills, moving upward and downward first through the entire scale and then through the simple major and minor triad chords for the scale. As he performed the exercise, he slowly accelerated, growing more confident. And then he fell apart while moving through the F sharp triad.

Tears began to cloud his vision, and Eshatoh took deep breaths. Sadness was rising from the pit of his stomach, demanding release, but he wouldn’t give it. He was Eshatoh. The others looked to him as the epitome of strength and self-reliance. He couldn’t let himself cry—not even here. If he did that he might have to admit to himself that everything wasn’t okay.

After a minute or so of deep controlled breathing, he was okay. He had firmly jammed the memories that the flute brought back towards the back of his mind. They were still too sharp to handle. He couldn’t even look at them without an emotional upheaval.

Steady again, Eshatoh stood, carefully looping the flute’s strap back over his head. There hadn’t been any movement from the copse, and the sun was setting. Soon it would be vanish from the horizon. Confidently, he stepped forward to follow the rabbit tracks. Most likely he would find the burrow here.

OOCI'll give you a post to introduce your character before our characters meet.

[Wretch]

Wretch never went out in the open during noontime, or any time of day when the sun was high and bright. One of the first things he'd learned about Ahnatep (and deserts in general) was that the weather around these parts was not for the faint of heart. Bloody place was hot as a scorned woman's temper. Of course, that was invariably the first thing anyone learned about deserts - the heat. There wasn't much else to them, really. Sand. Scorpions, maybe. Tasty, crunchy little things. Got a pop to'em. Anyway flying out during the hotter parts of the day was nigh on suicide. Crows are hardy things. They can survive almost anywhere. They are also, for some unholy reason, covered in black feathers, which are just fantastic for absorbing heat, Wretch had learned. Night time, however, he couldn't see a blasted thing. And that's when all the baddies were out - predators, thieves, everything with sharp teeth or knives wanting to gut you for any reason. Early morning was a magical time, when he went foraging for goodies and snacks. It was milder and cool, he could actually see, and all the lizards were out sunning themselves (the little red and yellow ones tasted like licorice). Now Wretch wasn't much of a hunter, mind, but he was an opportunist. He did eventually learn that reptiles moved slower when cold, and were easier to snatch up. Dusk was a more dangerous time to be out, but it really wasn't all that bad. As long as he stuck closer to Ahnatep, he could avoid the threat of predators. Thieves, he could spot a mile away (literally), and even if he flew straight into their encampments, most of the time they barely noticed him. It could be a little riskier in the city, where scraps could be plentiful, but competition was fierce. Wretch was fairly certain that some people were not above killing and eating crows, for that matter. The desert itself was slim pickings, but there was a significantly lower chance of ending up on a rotisserie. Riding the hot rolling winds rising up from the sands, Wretch surveyed the desert below him. As usual, there wasn't a great deal going on. There were a few enticing scents to follow - he was fairly sure he smelled cooked decay toward the west, and he was lazily headed that way, half interested. It was beginning to get dark, however, and he wasn't sure he felt safe flying off very far if it meant it would be nightfall by the time he got anywhere. Wretch wasn't the only scavenger around here, looking for a full belly. Suddenly he heard a strange, unnatural noise, distorted by the shifting winds. It sounded like a bird, at first, but he realized it was a little too earthy. Some kind of whistle, perhaps? Who knows. There was someone out here, up to something, that was for certain. Maybe he needed help? Or better, he was dying! There were few things better in this world than fresh meat. It was a long shot though, and this scent of decay was a sure thing. He let it go, for now. Leave that fool to the wolves.

[Eshatoh]

Places like this were Eshatoh’s favorite. In the gentle shade he didn’t have to worry about heat exhaustion or energy conservation. The richness of patterns and textures of these groves provided the eye with a break from the monotony of endless sand.

If he could live out his life in such a place he would—every Chaktawe would—but even the largest oasis couldn’t support a Chaktawe tribe. Eshatoh could leave. It was a possibility that always lurked near the back of his mind. But he couldn’t leave, yet. Survival alone was still beyond his grasp. He had much to learn from his elders in the tribe.

He couldn’t learn everything from them, of course. That was why he was here. Some things you just had to go out and do in order to really know them. So last night he had told Kajach, whom he had been hunting with lately that he wanted to try a hunting trip by himself. The man had immediately agreed, “Well, then go ahead.” So this morning he had gone.

He had enjoyed the morning out away from the camp with nobody to disturb him, no need to maintain any façade. It was an opportunity to just let his mind wander. He had thought of silly things without any real importance: how pretty Kaya had looked last night and whether he was misinterpreting the signals she was giving him. He had thought of the story of Japikoa told so often and whether it was supposed to teach him some sort of practical lesson or if it was actual history. He had asked Wayhali Nayati one time, but she wouldn’t tell him. There were a lot of things she wouldn’t tell him.

Finally just when he was coming to suspect that his first solo foray would be wasted, Eshatoh had come upon the rabbit trail. He wouldn’t be able to bring much back to camp, but it would be nice to eat a meal not completely vegetarian tonight.

Entering the copse of greenery, Eshatoh dropped onto his hands and knees to fit through the time-worn wildlife trail. His hair still caught on a branch. Eshatoh had to clench his teeth together to resist the urge to mutter curses under his breath. There was no need to scare away his prey now.

He carefully untied the cord knotting back his and disentangled it from the branch. He moved forward again. There. There was the burrow. Still crouched, Eshatoh let a rare smile creep across his face. This might be easier than expected.

Trying to make as little noise as possible, Eshatoh removed his pack and withdrew a length of trapping cord. Slipping the knife from his side, he hacked off about a yard and tied off an appropriately sized noose. Preparations completed, he tied the other end of the cord to the base of a nearby bush and set up his simple trap at the burrow’s mouth. Now he just had to hope it didn’t have a second exit.

Pulling his pack back over his shoulder, Eshatoh slipped back outside the grove to sit on the ground and wait. He thought about practicing his flute again but decided against it. Instead he pulled out a silver-rimmed Miza and began flipping it up into the air and catching it again. The gem set in it was blue, matching the sky. Eshatoh waited and dreamed about where under the sky he would go to spend this. Someday.

[Wretch]

The smell wasn't getting any stronger, and the sky was only getting darker. Wretch sighed mentally. He was going to have to give up on this notion. It was probably already swarming with vultures, anyway. Mangy bullies, if you asked Wretch. All squabbling and shouldering, no finesse at all. Feh, oh well. Guess it was back to stealing scraps from the city. That wasn't always so bad - one time he'd managed to pick up some cut pieces of fat from a butcher's shop. Now that had been a right holiday. Wretch furled his tailfeathers and dipped one of his wings, swinging a lazy curve back to Ahnatep. He was trying hard to be optimistic about what he might find within the streets of the city before they got too dark and dangerous to dwell in, but it was difficult not to be frustrated. Already he'd spent a year alone in this wretched city, and he was so very sick of it. Sure, he could leave, but where would he go? The only places he'd ever known aside from here were Sunberth and Ravok, and neither were much better than this sand trap. Leaving Ahnatep would only bring him into another hellish place. Everywhere he went was worse than where he'd been. As he recalled, neither Mathis nor Cali had ever spoken well of the other cities they'd traveled to. The entire world enforced the survival of only the fittest. Every day was a battle, no matter where he went. Wretch honestly wasn't sure how much longer he could keep this up on his own. If he lost another bondmate, however, he worried it would destroy him. All it took to clear away the dark thoughts in his head was a bright glimmer in the distance. Cor! What's this? The stiff wind played with the broad primary feathers of his wings, plucking at them like strings on a harp. Without even meaning to, Wretch altered his direction, both small brown eyes locked on a flickering, glittering object near a dense copse just ahead. Now, if that wouldn't just make his night! It would certainly make him feel better about missing out on a hearty dinner. Bearing toward the shining treasure, Wretch zeroed in on the thicket. This close, he could make out a tan-skinned humanoid squatted in the foliage, carelessly flipping the coin about as if he had no reason to worry. Foolish! He wasn't as alone out here as he thought! The coin wasn't terribly valuable - a silver-rimmed miza by the look of it, but that was hardly the point! He could be flipping a piece of discarded tin, and Wretch would be no less in love with it. He certainly had no scruples about taking the object for his own. He just had to time it... The crow swooped down toward the Chaktawe, his beak snapping at the coin. Damn! Missed! Unable to stop his momentum, Wretch outstretched his twig-like avian feet to come to a skidding landing. No such luck. The bird had been far too focused on the coin to realize his trajectory - he wasn't going to land on a flat expanse of stone or clay. He was flying straight into a bush. "Caw! Caw!" Wretch could only flail as his small feathered frame collided into a dense, but pleasantly soft hummock. Before long, he found himself quickly entangled in its leafy interior. He madly flapped around, trying to dislodge himself, but only seemed to be sinking further into it. Given a few moments, he may have been able to escape much more cleanly, but he was panicking now. What about the Chaktawe! He was completely vulnerable now. Should he risk shifting? If the stranger was armed, it might be even more dangerous. It was all he could do to wriggle helplessly in his indecision.

[Eshatoh]

Eshatoh had been watching the slow circling of some vultures in the distance. The warmth of the sun, the repetitive “ping” the coin made as he flipped it, and the slow rustling of leaves was slowly lulling him to sleep. His eyelids lidded halfway as he was becoming oblivious to everything. He really shouldn’t sleep. It wasn’t an appropriate time or place thought it wasn’t the most dangerous, either. The rhythm of his coin toss faltered.

A blur of black feathers brushed his head as it arrowed toward the fertile copse. Reflexively he sat up straighter and touched the spot where he had been touched. His eyes followed through the long moment as it crashed into a bush. Weren’t birds supposed to be a bit more graceful than this?

“Caw! Caw!” The bird cried as Eshatoh stood up and padded towards it.

He made placating gestures with his hands and whispered, “Hush! Hush, you’ll scare away the game.” It wasn’t as if the creature could understand him but some animals responded well to a calm voice.

As he got closer he could see that the bird was actually a crow. Eywaat often took the form of a crow, and he had quite a sense of humor. Chaktawe had to be especially careful when dealing with crows.

“There, little guy, I’ll help you out,” Eshatoh whispered, moving aside some branches. He was going to end up with bloody hands, either from the birds claws or the bushes thorns, but the consequences would be worse if this crow turned out to be a god and he didn’t offer assistance.

“Caw!” The crow called again. Startled, a rabbit burst from a hole that Eshatoh hadn’t seen before and made a bee-line across the desert.

“Rhysol’s fury,” Eshatoh swore. “You do have a sense of humor, don’t you?” This crow was obviously Eywaat.

[Wretch]

Gods abound, the fool was coming AFTER him! Wretch was dead for sure! Given, he didn't know a good deal about the Chaktawe people, except that their eyes were black as his feathers. If not blacker. Either way it was creepy as all buggery, and Wretch didn't care for anything large and grabby coming at him no matter what it was. For all he knew, the crow may have been intended to replace that rabbit that had just darted off. Well! Eating him would be no easy feat. Imagine the look on THIS daft goat's face when Wretch became human in front of his eyes. As the hands reached in, instinct begged Wretch to continue struggling, so he did, madly flapping his wings and snagging his feathers on the briar. It was making a total mess of his plumage. He was going to have to preen himself to oblivion if he managed to live through this. There was something soothing about the man's voice, however. Wretch's more animal mind was involuntarily calmed by it, but his human side had grown accustomed to liars. Either way, the bird stopped struggling and quietly watched the Chaktawe dig further into the bramble. He knew, whether he struggled or not, that there was no escape in this woody prison. If those hands came to grab him and he fought, he was more likely to end up hurting himself. So, out of necessity and thin hope, the bird calmed himself down, breathing heavily as he let the Chaktawe take hold of him and remove him from the bush. As soon as he was free and able to flutter to the ground, the crow was immediately blanketed in a swiftly growing swirl of lights. Wretch could have flown off, and being a coward, he ordinarily would have. It had been a year, however, since his last bond was broken. An urge to find a new bondmate had become overwhelming. That didn't mean he had any intention of forming a bond with this stranger - he didn't even know him! - but a powerful curiosity fueled by a servile desire for leadership for now overruled his primal fear. Wretch was driven to at least observe potential bondmates, instead of fleeing nearly everything that moved. If the Chaktawe made a move, Wretch could take wing in a Syliras minute if he wanted to. "Who, me?" asked the somewhat tanned, dark haired human that now stood before the Chaktawe. He wasn't wearing a thing, and by the way he held himself, he didn't seem particularly bothered by that. On the contrary, the cooling evening winds were a relief from his thick plumage. "Er, when the moment calls for it, I guess. Who's asking? So help me I'll peck your eyes out if you're thinking of eating me!"

[Eshatoh]

Forcing himself to ignore the rabbit scampering into the distance, Eshatoh calmly continued to dig through the brambles until the Crow was free. He let it go and stepped back, bowing his head. He was probably already in enough trouble with Eywaat for his sarcastic comment. No need to let himself be further smeared with camel dung.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Eshatoh watched the transformation. It was impressive, no doubt. The flashy showmanship of it all gave only more evidence that he was looking upon a god. And suddenly a man was standing before him, naked.

The haughty tone the man took was perfectly compatible with every story Eshatoh had ever heard about Eywaat, but the question, “Who's asking?” didn't make much sense. Neither did the threat but then his father had always told him that all powerful people had their peculiarities. Having the power of a god could only amplify this effect.

Daring to look up from his bowed head, Eshatoh looked the man standing before him in the eye and dropped to his knees. He ignored everything the Crow had said. “Greetings, brother Crow. I am your faithful servant, Eshatoh. What is it that you would have of me?” He spoke in Common, answering in the language he had been addressed. The fact that Eywaat hadn't addressed him in Tawna was yet another pecularity.

Traditionally one was supposed to offer Eywaat some sort of toy or clever contraption should he ever deign to appear to someone outside the Searching, but Eshatoh had nothing of the sort with him. Hopefully the god would forgive the lack, but it seemed just as likely that the god wouldn't even remember this little rite. Eywaat was supposed to be clever and intelligent, not loopy. Something strange was going on here.