The Lost Bow of the Drykas (Sea of Grass) 16.W.509

[Dachua]

The Sea of Grass. 16 Winter 509 AV. Far to Dachua’s left, the sun sank below the horizon. Syna’s dying rays stretched from the west, like the arms of a lover, glowing orange and pink. To Dachua’s right, east, Leth and his moon had risen. Leth’s arms, deep blue and purple, with lowlights of black stretched to meet Syna’s dying light. They would not be together this day. The Drykas scanned the horizon, seeking something that would offer further protection from the elements and packs of glassbeaks. Nothing natural stood out; however, in the not-too-far distance a fire was being brought to life. Often, life or death on the Sea of Grass depended on natural protection, or the safety of a group. Often his people would gather for safety, no matter their clan. Dachua leaned forward, placing his mouth near the ear of Blackmoon, and whispered in Pavi. The Strider mare picked up her pace, moving from walk to canter to trot. The thick grass parted before her, and rippled as if moved by a ship’s prow. Blackmoon’s long strides and quick pace ate up the distance quickly, and before night had fallen fully Dachua arrived at the encampment. Blackmoon slowed to a walk. Several men and women stood at the perimeter of the site, acting as a watch. A woman, the one who was nearest Dachua smiled and nodded him through. No doubt the Drykas had seen him from far off, a mounted man was always silhouetted against the horizon here. The Ankals likely knew of his proximity, either way, and a Drykas was always welcome at camp. Dachua dismounted well before reaching the fire, and set to removing the yvas he used to ride. It came off quickly, and Dachua added it to a growing pile of his belongings. As soon as she was free, Blackmoon joined the rest of the herd in grazing. Before she left him, though, the Cyphrus Strider nuzzled his shoulder. Her rider broke into a smile, and patted her neck as she went. Several camp fires had been set, and the dancing flames provided enough light for Dachua to raise his tent. He crawled within the encompassing canvas, and rolled out his bedroll. His belongings barely put a dent in the amount of space the tent had available, so he laid them out in a single layer, neatly organized. Dachua was smoothing a wrinkle from his bed roll when he felt a tug on his boot. The Drykas looked over his shoulder and found a young girl standing shyly behind him. “My father, Ankal of the Spearstalk pavilion invites you to dine with us.” She said, smiling. She spoke formally, no doubt at her father’s command. “He would know why one of the Moongrass is so far from our fair city.” Dachua wanted no trouble here, and declining an invitation to share a meal would no doubt be considered rude. A hot meal would no doubt be a welcome change to the norm, as well. Dachua smiled at her, and told her he accepted. “Then I will show you the way, our pavilion is not far.” Dachua rose to follow her, buckling his sword belt about his waist. The eating knife in his boot was a weapon in its own right, but he would be damned to go about without his blade. The girl eyed the sword a moment, a mixture of respect and interest filled her eyes before she turned away and lead Dachua to the Spearstalk pavilion. As they walked, Dachua counted five pavilions. Easily forty or more of my people here. Two of the pavilions sported gold, and it was to one of these that his guide led him. The Spearstalk family sat about a fire, their legs crossed. The family, all fourteen of them, greeted Dachua as he sat, and he returned the greeting. Over the meal, the Spearstalk Ankal asked Dachua many questions. Why are you so far from your pavilion? Did your Ankal send you? Have others left the pavilion? And many more. Dachua answered as truthfully as possible, but could tell the Ankal believed little of his answers. After all, the Drykas were not known for their fear of enemies. When their meal was finished, the family invited Dachua to stay for the telling of tales. He accepted, and when his turn came about, he told of one of his hunts. The family listened politely as Dachua told of how he had run down an injured antelope on foot, his hunting cats sprinting at his side. On a command, the cats lurched forward, catching hold of their prey. They did their part well, holding the antelope for Dachua’s arrow. The Ankal nodded in approval when his tale was finished. Two more stories were told, and dinner had ended. Leth hung full in the sky, and the fire had burned low. Dachua thanked the Spearstalk family for their hospitality, and offered the Ankal a trinket of his for the meal. He declined, and Dachua thanked them again, before seeking out his bed roll.

[Kayiri]

"Look," Kayiri's gentle voice broke the tedious clop of Serenity's hooves on the grounds beneath them. "A campfire. I told you we would find someone to stay with if we kept riding," Kayiri gave one of his playful: "I told you so," grins and spoke quietly to Serenity in Pavi, slowing their pace once again, sitting up straight in the saddle. His eyes began to scan the campsite as they drew near, making out a herd of Strider in the distance.

Once they passed the first compliment of lookouts, Kayiri wearily dragged himself off of Serenity, his posture still amazingly straight despite his recent sleep deprivation, a side-effect of the hole that now decorated the top of his four person tent, a sort of reminder to his own foolishness. It made him flush with anger every time, forcing him to recall the bow he had lost to the damned creature. "If the creature's dragging us north, it's probably trying to find it's damned buddies to makes some sort of deal for the bow," Kayiri would constantly tell himself. It was somewhat frightening how obsessed he was with a simple bow.

When he was certain the first wave of the watch was out of earshot, he spoke calmly and swiftly to Hex. "Stay close, please. It will do a lot to put my heart at rest. Every time we enter a camp, I don't know how people will react exactly, and I don't want to lose a friend to some sort of minor technicality," Kayiri's short speech was honest and true. He gave a small, comforting smile to Hex as he returned to walking, his posture finally sagging once they were safe inside of the unspoken boundaries of the camp.

Finding a suitable spot, Kayiri took the yvas off of Serenity, bringing her head gently to his, whispering softly in Pavi. "Thank you Serenity, for carrying myself, Hex, and our burdens once again. None could ask for a better friend," he rubbed her flank affectionately, and then let her scurry over to the aforementioned herd. He began to unfold the tent, his shoulders sagging farther as he once more examine the hole on the roof of the tent.

"Hex..." he said quietly in defeat, "I don't know if I can spend another night in the blistering cold with a broken roof." He slowly lowered himself to the ground in an unmanly resignation, placing his head in his hands before pressing in and moving his fingers into his hair, brushing it out of his face, once of the techniques he used to collect himself. "I'm so sick of sleepless nights. I think one of these days I might just fall off Serenity after passing out from exhaustion." After yet another long moment, he wearily dragged himself to his feet. It was somewhat startling how readily Kayiri had accepted hex, despite having known her for a mere eleven days... Then again, Kayiri was quick to place his trusts... Oh, and they did fight a giant winged monster together. That always helps with bonding. He rolled his shoulders, and turned to Hex. Despite all his complaining, the determined, passionate fire that seemed to follow him everywhere was still in his eyes. Silently, he hoped one of the neighbors in the campsite would notice their plight and provide them with an alternative if Hex could not come up with one.

He laughed in his own mind at how reliant he was on Hex. The same thoughts which had passed his head only five minutes ago returned. Why did he trust her to make all the decisions on the journey? He finally found the answer, looking at the way she carried herself. He did it because she had lived like this, she was more experienced than him, and probably a hell of a lot smarter. He was just the blind grunt who ran around slashing aimlessly at whatever the smarter men told him to. Hex was one of those smarter people, or at least he felt she was. A decision maker, a quick-thinker that could survive on her own. He nodded subconsciously as he made this realization, feeling an ever so slight surge in his near-exhausted energy reserves. He would find his bow, one way or another. He just knew it.

[Hex]

------------------------ ------------------------ Each thumping jolt of being bounced on Serenity's back thundered through Hex's core. After long rides the bouncing became a trance inducing vibration that stretched time to the infinity of their trip. Passing through the entrance, although wrought with tension, was an easy task in comparison to the one that lay ahead of Hex. When looking into the faces of the Drykas who scurried in tandem around the encampment, it occurred to Hex that while she stood out with her 'pale' skin back in her home land, she was much darker than any Drykas around her then. Momentary insecurity stung her as she fell to the ground, her knees bending to absorb the impact from dismounting a monstrous strider. With a hand never leaving Serenity's skin Hex walked to face her, combing her fingers through her mane and pulling debris from her silky hide. Hex immediately felt the territorial and protective air of the Drykas and from feeling the vibes and watching the folk, it was apparent that there were little secrets unknown in a people who are so connected. With each new encounter she had with the Drykas, she grew more aware of just how dangerous her time alone in the sea of grass was. Her own thread that bound her to them had been untouched until she ventured through their grasses. How she had not been apprehended didn't completely surprise her but how she remained alive was a blessing. Without knowing a whole lot about how the Drykas related to each other socially, Hex fought waves of awkwardness as she attempted to catch the eyes of people who passed by. Part of her power was engaging with people but she felt stunted by her pounding heart and raging emotions. Double take looks from people big and small shot her way, along with whispers that weren't specifically cruel but blunt. Who was she? Where was she from? Her darker skin passed her off as desert kin, but her light eyes made them all think she might be of the Vantha race. Questions that she felt others asking each other spun around her in a wind that swallowed her and pulled her into the earth, making her feet heavy. Hex shrugged her tattered cloak to shadow most of her clothing but resisted the urge to mask her head with the hood. She had to stand proud of her complicated culture amidst the judicial crowd that formed weakly around Kayiri and Hex. These people had set themselves up in community type formations around campfires, family was an important part of their culture. Hex's bright eyes shone through dark circles that hung on her face from the previous days of intense travel but she mustered the last of her strength to project an aura of honesty that might be heard and received. Finally her hand floated from Serenity's neck as she raised her bowed arms outwards in front of her. With a final breath she began to weave her arms through the space around her as she stamped her feet rhythmically. A complexity of movements painted a humming yellow aura that twinkled steadily into existence around her heart and shoulders. This aura of empathy and compassion grew as Hex danced and it seemed to spread like a silky fog that settled on the ground around her. Hex pushed and pulled with her arms fully engaged and stole tiny looks into the faces of the people who observed her outlandish behaviour. Her first connection was made with a few of the children who dotted the scene where she danced. She saw how their eyes juiced at the sight of her show and she wanted to communicate to them all that she was a non violent and even welcomed visitor. Hex's energy finally dwindled from already having been exhausted and she knew her auristics were taking an even more intense toll on her if she was not well rested. Her sacrifice came from a place of wanting to belong and as she collapsed into a heap by Serenity's feet, she closed her eyes and hoped that she had done something to attract someone's attention.

[Dachua]

Dachua watched outlander’s dance from among the small crowd, mostly whoever had been nearby, and the majority of the Ankals in the encampment. Her dance continued for some moments, bare feet stamping in rhythmic pattern. Her hands wove through the air, ebbing and flowing like the tide. Then, with a final stamp, she collapsed. For a long moment, all was still. A cloud drew across the moon, bathing the area in momentary darkness. When the cloud passed, Dachua found himself kneeling beside the woman, next to the other rider. Dachua met the man’s eyes, then, together, the Drykas men brought the dancer to her feet. Dachua made eye contact, and the riders shared unspoken words. Dachua lead the woman to his tent, and the other Drykas went to tend to his horse. The small crowd parted grudgingly, allowing Dachua and his charge to pass. The Spearstalk Ankal glared balefully, and made to stop him. Dachua’s scowl forced the Ankal to hesitate just long enough for Dachua to pass. In his tent, Dachua settled the dancer down, and handed her his waterskin. “Drink.” He said in Pavi, not knowing she didn’t speak it. “Slowly.” That done, Dachua exited the tent, and found himself face-to-face with Ankal Spearstalk himself. “You will leave tomorrow!” He said, making gestures. “She is not one of us. She does not belong here.” “I will leave tomorrow,” Dachua began. The Ankal visibly relaxed. “Or the day after. Or whenever I feel. I take no orders from you.” “She is not one of us! Nothing protects her from harm.” “My tent protects her from harm, Ankal. Should any befall her, I know where to look.”

[Vanator]

Vanator had observed the new arrivals from the entrance of his tent. He had met with Ankal of one of the Pavilions here, tasked with checking up on a cousin who had recently married into the man's family and to ensure a link to the Web of Vanator's own Pavilion. They were of different clans, and Van's father and uncles were not terribly impressed with the in-laws. The feeling must be mutual, the Sapphire clansman mused, since the location provided to him for his tent was downwind from the camp's herd of Zibri. This was one of the duties the son of the Denusk Pavilion's Ankal did not mind performing, as it gave him the opportunity to get out into the open grasslands alone. Running a whetstone along the oil-glistened edge of his battle ax, Vanator had watched curiously the mystical antics of the small woman. Although the tall man with her, and the hawk-nosed man that arrived earlier, were both Drykas, this young woman appeared by dress and features to be an outlander. She reminded Vanator of the tribal people of the deserts to the south, though she lacked many of their distinct features as well. Content to just observe the goings on, seeing Hawk-nose help the exhausted woman to his own tent, his intent changed upon seeing the Spearstalk Ankal stomp towards the visitor's tent. The man was not the Ankal he had come to see, but Vanator had met all the Pavilion leaders earlier in the day. Spearstalk's Ankal was a cantakerous, rigid man, and Vanator saw trouble brewing. He laid the ax aside and rose to his feet. Arriving just behind the Ankal, he witnessed the confrontation. This was not his business, not his clan, not his friends. But that did not seem to restrain his indignation. "Surely the tales I have heard of the hospitality of the Spearstalk Pavilion were not exaggerated." Though he knew the cranky leader would care less of what Vanator thought, the suggestion that his family's reputation may be slighted may appeal to the Ankal's pride. "And certainly this slight woman could pose no danger to such stalwart Drykas." Vanatar's dark eyes fell on the younger Drykas male, his posture partially blocking the woman in a gesture of protection. He was brash, but the Denusk man admired his commitment to defend the outsider. "Nor does it become a Drykas warrior to threaten the Pavilion that has received him into their camp." There it was, he had spoken his mind, diplomatically he hoped. His words would either be accepted or spurned.

[Kayiri]

As the man carried Hex away, he followed her like an obedient dog follows it's master. His eyes slowly searched those of his kin as he passed, taking in every detail in their tanned faces. The moment they were inside, Kayiri melted into a corner, watching the man tell Hex to drink in Pavi. His response was swift and simple, yet somewhat gentle, reflecting his odd nature.

"She doesn't speak much Pavi," With those words, he came from his corner, kneeling down next to Hex, translating the simple sentence into Common for her with a warm smile. When the other man left, he spoke to her softly. "What did you do?"

Upon hearing the argument between the man who had taken Hex inside and another, Kayiri rose to his feet, gently prying the flaps of the tent apart so that he could see who was arguing. It was indeed the man from before, and judging by his dress, the other was the Ankal. He opened the flap the rest of the way, making sure to position himself between them and Hex. He watched as a third man joined in the conversation, and then threw in his piece.

"I protect her from harm," his voice was sterner than it had been earlier. "I am Drykas, and I protect her from harm. I take full responsibilities for her actions whilst she is in the Sea of Grass. None with intent to hurt her shall lay a finger on her as long as I draw breath. We simply needed a place to stay for a short while while my tent is repaired, and then we shall be on our way," Kayiri was finished, making sure to make eye contact with the Ankal, who furrowed his brow in obvious frustration with the situation.

"Fine, but you are not to stay any longer than you must," The Ankal spoke, glowering visibly at them. He then turned and stalked off, still obviously annoyed. Kayiri let visible relief wash over him, and looked at the men who had helped convince the man.

"Many thanks to both of you," he spoke, bowing ever so slightly in respect. "I am Kayiri."

[Hex]

A drink of water was pressed to her mouth and she took long gulps until the chalice was drained. A debate brewed beyond the tent flaps and she sat up, eager to join in and defend her presence, but lethargic. A night's sleep would do her good and she longed for the soft wicker grass bedroll that lay in the man's tent, even through her feelings of awkwardness sleeping 'inside'. She rose then, stretching the muscles through her legs and arms before quietly appearing at the tent entrance, her face searching the men's for the answer of the Ankal. The relieved smile on Kayiri told her that they were temporarily welcome, but she knew that if they didn't want to lose the Zith's blood trail to the bow, they would need to rest and rise for travel as soon as possible. She felt the sting of offense from her being there and looking the way she did. They didn't know she had Drykas blood, but if they did, would it make a difference? Would they believe her? She had urges to burst out of the tent and tell every resident there that she wasn't such an outsider, that she too is connected to them by blood. But simply helping her friend find his bow would suffice for then, she could come back, she could prove herself welcome to this community.

Hex appeared from inside the tent just as introductions were being made. She had seen the men from afar through the tent entrance but their faces were shrouded by darkness, making their facial features unrecognizable. As she stood closer to them, they each had a unique difference and at the same time a uniformity that is common amongst all Drykas men.

"He is not pleased to have me here" she commented, nodding her head in the direction of the authoritative man walking away. She turned to the familiar face of the young man who carried her to his tent, "this must be your home if you were the one who brought me here. I thank you for your generosity." She looked him in the eye before regarding the rest, "let us discuss why I'm here. Kayiri and I have traveled from Endrykas, following a thief who took a prized bow from Kayiri's possession. He was injured and has been leaving a trail of his blood through the grasses." She tilted her head and sniffed the air, "I still even smell him now and it is leading into that direction." She shifted several times like a compass needle before pointing south-west through the side of the tent. "We will leave in the morning, Kayiri and I. But you are all welcome to join. I don't know what lies ahead of us but this is something that must be done, Kayiri can not go alone."

[Dachua]

"Surely the tales I have heard of the hospitality of the Spearstalk Pavilion were not exaggerated. And certainly this slight woman could pose no danger to such stalwart Drykas." The newcomer carried himself as if he knew how to use the axe he carried. Dachua was grateful for his assistance, but it was not needed. "Nor does it become a Drykas warrior to threaten the Pavilion that has received him into their camp." Dachua scowled, a diplomat. He opened his mouth to speak his mind, but another joined them. "I protect her from harm. I am Drykas, and I protect her from harm. I take full responsibilities for her actions whilst she is in the Sea of Grass. None with intent to hurt her shall lay a finger on her as long as I draw breath. We simply needed a place to stay for a short while while my tent is repaired, and then we shall be on our way," "Fine, but you are not to stay any longer than you must," The Ankal spoke, glowering visibly at them. He then turned and stalked off, still obviously annoyed. "Many thanks to both of you," he spoke, bowing ever so slightly in respect. "I am Kayiri." “I am called, Dachua,” He replied, then turned is eyes towards the axeman. “I thank you for your assistance, but I am under no man’s hospitality.” Footsteps approached from behind. Dachua turned quickly to find the woman he found himself so infatuated with standing near. "He is not pleased to have me here" she commented, nodding her head in the direction of the authoritative man walking away. She turned to the familiar face of the young man who carried her to his tent, "this must be your home if you were the one who brought me here. I thank you for your generosity." She looked him in the eye before regarding the rest. He smiled, and nodded. "Let us discuss why I'm here. Kayiri and I have traveled from Endrykas, following a thief who took a prized bow from Kayiri's possession. He was injured and has been leaving a trail of his blood through the grasses." She tilted her head and sniffed the air, "I still even smell him now and it is leading into that direction." She shifted several times like a compass needle before pointing south-west through the side of the tent. "We will leave in the morning, Kayiri and I. But you are all welcome to join. I don't know what lies ahead of us but this is something that must be done, Kayiri cannot go alone." “I will assist in any way I may,” Dachua said, still smiling. “But first, I must know your name, I am Dachua.”

[Hex]

A gentle whisper hung around their tent, the collective hushed voice of inquisitive Drykas hummed and floated around like fireflies in the night. Hex wasn't accustomed to introducing herself and so she paused before answering Dachua, almost speaking her birth name before remembering her new life, her new identity. "I prefer for you all to call me Hex" she nodded confidently, straightening her back and tilting her head to regard the tall men that crowded around her.

These men were warriors with their thick chest armour and their weapons. Hex instinctively touched the small knife that she kept strapped to the outside of her thigh under her dress. She wondered how she could defend herself against the dangerous zith with such a small blade, but reminded herself that she had done her fair share of defending when out in the grasses and had managed to stay alive with the little resources she had.

"Will you be joining us warrior? The winged zith-beast we're stalking may lead us to others like him, we may need extra skill to repossess the bow", she faced Vanator who stood deep in contemplation. She was eager to hear that he may help them in their search for Kayiri's lost bow.

[Vanator]

Vanator stood silent as the strangers spoke, arms crossed over his leather-clad chest, a thin braid of hair dangling at either side of his face. The mood among the group was tense, no doubt fueled by the unpleasant Ankal, Drykas pride and travel weariness. The confrontation with the old leader now diffused, it was clear Vanator need not offer his protection to the woman, for it appeared she had quite enough. Both young men were armed with longswords and no doubt knew how to use them. Both were quite eager to serve as the woman's guardian. As each man directed their comment to him, he nodded courteously. Vanator noted the men's names, Dachua and Kayiri.

Vanator turned to leave when the slight woman began to speak, her exhaustion evident in her soft tone. He turned back, curious to hear what she had to say. She unfolded her and Kayiri's purpose, and Vanator could empathize with the man's desire to catch the thief. He would have done the same, to retrieve his bow, and to punish the pilferer for his insolence. The hawk-faced Drykas, Dachua, readily offered his sword-arm and a smile. Admirable, Vanator thought, though he could not know Dachua's true motives, his eagerness to help showed Drykas spirit.

The woman, Hex, turned to face the Vanator. She was small, but not frail, and what he could make of her stature spoke of muscles toned by living off the land, like a true Drykas. But, he could not be sure she was one of the grasslanders. Though her skin and eyes fit the mold, her hair was darker than any of the clanswomen he had seen. Studying her features, he could understand the other Drykas warrior's eagerness for the honor to protect her, for Hex possessed an subtle exotic air about her.

Her question gained his attention, particularly at the mention of Zith. Vanator hated Zith. Five years ago, Zith killed his wife, left her to die in the grasslands. He thanked the gods that she did not become a zith slave or meal, but her loss had devastated him. He would welcome a chance to hunt a Zith.

Finally breaking his silence he spoke. "I am Vanator. I too am simply a visitor to this camp." His arms unfolded, lowered to rest on his hips. " I would love nothing more than to help you hunt down your Zith. But I have duties I must attend to. " He sighed, frustrated that he could not accompany the hunters. Then he had an idea. "I will watch you, track you. As soon as I can get free, I will find you."