If I Stop Thinking(Akilah)

[Colt]

Khasr thought quickly. The sun was at its zenith, or close to it, and heat was beating down relentlessly as was typical of summer days. Many animals would be flocking to the tall grass for shade and rest, and many were already here. “If we take our time then we can get something big. If we set traps we can get many small things, but blood will warn away prey and predators will come.” He squatted low and examined the ground with an unrefined eye. There was some type of antelope track, and the terrain and time of day made Khasr suspect pronghorn. But pronghorn usually traveled in groups of three or four, so if he and his new friend could focus enough then they might be ale to get all of them. That’d be something to bring home. Home. The thought sent a shudder of anger and anticipation down Khasr’s spine. Yes, they could hunt the pronghorn if they tried hard enough. He could practically throw it in his brother’s face when he got back. He found himself creating the expression that his brother would have, and an off-color, almost demented smile found itself twisting his lips. It was the smile of a mischievous child on the body of a boy, not quite a man. Khasr turned his glinting eye to the girl behind him and pointed to the tracks. Pronghorn, he signed. His sudden attachment to the project made him loathe to speak. Probably more than one. Not too long ago. Probably still there. Knock an arrow. When you spot something signal me and point. I will do the same.

[Akilah Windsong]

Akilah could feel the beads of sweat roll down her face, her hair slowly matting to her skin. A hot day, hotter still as she crouched to the ground, the air trapped by the long grass.

"That's true," she replied, agreeing with his words. "It would be better then to catch something big and not fight all the predators."

Watching him examine the ground, she raised her head, an observant eye noting their surroundings. There were few trees near them, few and noisy--the songbirds were vocal now, eager to escape the sun and resting in the branches. A few more soared in as she watched, and she took this as a sign of safety. There weren't many predators near them, then, at least none that would scare the birds. There were few other animals she could see, most either blending in too well with the surroundings for her to notice or just not coming at all, the scent of two humans scaring them away.

Glancing back at her companion, she raised an eyebrow when she saw him shaking lightly, body tense. When he turned to face her, it was her turn to shiver, the look in her eyes scaring her slightly. It wasn't the same expression he had earlier today, instead something more predator-like, more dangerous.

Then the moment passed, and as he signed, she calmed down. The shadow she saw on him must have been her imagination. His signs were just like his spoken language, straight to the point and short. If she didn't know better, she'd think he was angry all the time.

But that couldn't be true--no one was angry all the time, that just wasn't possible.

Reading the signs, she blanched lightly. He didn't realize she was almost useless with the bow and arrow on her horse's back. She knew the extreme basics, from watching--the arrow should be pointing away from her, she needed to pull back the string, and if she pointed in the right direction, it should hopefully hit the target.

She signed back her dismay. I can't really use the bow and arrow--I brought it along so I can practice and learn to use it better. I try, if you want, but don't expect me to hunt well with the bow.

Signaling her mount, she waited for Adámas as she responded and trotted forward, no more than a whisper in the reeds. Slipping to her side, Akilah carefully pulled off the bow, examining it thoroughly. There were a few small things she recalled, things from her childhood. Her father used to show her the different weapons he and her mother used. Each night was spent learning a different one.

If not in detail, she would at least be able to recognize the weapons. Hopefully this would be enough for her to figure out the bow. Sliding her hand down the wooden limbs of the bow, feeling the smoothness of the arc. In the middle, joining the two limbs, she felt the small grove, worn in from countless uses. This is where she would place the arrow-head, she recalled.

Pulling out an arrow, she placed the metal tip on the bow, the feathery ends of the arrow sticking way past the string of the bow. Frowning, she realized she'd have to pull the string back to accommodate the arrow.

Doing that, though, was another task--the string was hard to pull taunt, her hands shaking lightly as she held it in place. Archery was a little more difficult than just pulling a string, Akilah realized. Her arms, though strong from her sword practice, was unused to the pressure of holding the string back in place, and carefully she relaxed her hold, making sure the arrow didn't fly away as she did.

Turning to Khasr, she cocked her head, wondering if she did it right. Hopefully he would correct her if she was entirely wrong. Even more hopefully, he wouldn't mind the fact that she couldn't use the arrow all that well.

[Colt]

Khasr was oblivious to his new companion’s discomfort, as he was to many things. He was good enough at hunting, but his social skills were severely lacking. She signed her dismay and lack of skill, leaving Khasr with a bemused expression. He watched her draw the bow silently, then waited for a few seconds after she undrew it before signing again. You are better than I am. Be quiet and you might get lucky. Thirsty animals are stupid animals. You can bet ten feet behind them without being noticed. His brow furrowed as he looked at her horse thoughtfully. No. Take off the yvas. Ride her to the pond and let her drink. The animals might not notice you if you pretend to be a horse. He stood slowly and peeked over the edges of the grass. I will stay to the grass and follow you. Wait for me to show myself then point out what you see. We will decide then. Khasr sank back to the ground and slipped into the stalks. He was no cat, but was not a wounded bull either. If he went slowly enough then he would be able to hide, but he worried about being able to keep up with his friend once she got moving.

[Akilah Windsong]

Akilah's eyes widened in surprise at his signs. Obviously she remembered the words of her father well, if he thought she was better than him. Still, better than him? Either he was a lot worse than she suspected, or he just didn't realize the extent of her skills yet.

As for fooling the animals, though she knew she could blend in with her horse well enough, there were still a few flaws to that plan. I will still smell human, she signed back, still beside Adámas. Animals can be blend, but very few were unable to smell.

The vantage of sitting on her horse was something she didn't want to let go, though, and she thought it over. Perhaps she could disguise her scent--it wouldn't stop them from recognizing her if they smelled deeply, but enough to pass an initial smell. It was still early summer, late spring, and though Adámas had already shed most of her winter coat, she still had a few extra hairs left. She just didn't know if that would be enough, though. Taking off the yvas, she carefully set it to the ground, careful to hide it among the reeds.

Adámas helped, brushing against Akilah as she rubbed herself. She would have to take a bath when they got home, she knew, as the red and white hairs stood long and obvious against her white clothes and dark hair. As her partner sank away, she realized her pup was still with him, following him slowly--Vespra was behaving, but she didn't know for how long.

Maybe the thrill of the chase was getting to him--every time he did concentrate on something, it had to do with hunting, she realized. Slipping onto her mount, she leaned low, breathing in the scent of her horse--she needed a bath too, she decided.

Now, leaning up lightly, her chest pressed tightly against Adámas's neck, she glanced around. Not much moved as they trotted to the pond, her horse responding to her slight nudges. Smaller animals moved and she remained still, trying to be as much a part of her horse as she could.

This plan could fail spectacularly, she feared.

[Colt]

While Akilah prepared herself, Khasr took time to do the same. He shed his backpack, not sure how quiet he was being, and retrieved his hunting knife and two small soap-like bars. He looked around, and finding no original location suitable for stashing his belongings, hid them next to his companion’s. He opened his waterskin and poured three precious drops onto each bar and sloppily rubbed them on his clothing, then looked around for Akilah. She was already moving, and Khasr just managed to keep himself from swearing. He waved his arms, trying to attract her attention, but all he could see of her was the crown of her head over the grass. Putting on a face that looked akin to pouting, he drew a javelin and crouched, using the already-parted trail that the horse had left. He had barely taken three steps before something cold and wet appeared on the back of his neck. He stifled and yelp that ended up sounding like a quiet honk, and slowly turned around. A dog. Probably Akilah’s. Shouldn’t he have noticed it before? The dog snuffed and shoved its nose straight into Khasr’s chest, detecting the large amount of rabbit scent there. Khasr pushed the dog’s muzzle away, but it instantly returned to its position on his sternum. He pushed it again, and it returned again. Irritated, Khasr leaned back and planted a foot squarely on the dog’s ribs and shoved it away. The dog returned a look that could only be described as pure, uncut indignance, and Khasr’s face split into a grin. Akilah. Once again, Khasr almost swore. He turned and plunged into the grass and promptly tripped on a feral root and landed in a lovely patch of nettles. Yelling in pain, Khasr dragged himself out and through the grass, which seemed to turn from wafting stalks to a wall. He pushed and pulled his way through, making more noise than a wounded ox dragging an overturned wagon.

[Akilah Windsong]

Akilah froze as she heard violent rustling, a strangled yell. What was he doing behind her? He would scare all the animals away with his wild movements. Already birds were flapping away, chattering angrily as they rose.

Before she could turn around, she could hear high-pitched yipping--Vespra was getting excited and she had a feeling that this incident was partially due to him. Turning her head, she winced as she saw Khasr lurch out of the thorny nettle bushes. From experience, she knew how much that must hurt. A smaller shadow escaped from the high ground and she could see her pup start chasing the small rabbits drinking nearby. His body was low to the ground, compact almost, and his little feet where running as fast as they could.

Not fast enough, though, as the rabbits disappeared once more into the brush, with nary a trace behind. Swearing under her breath, she slipped off Adámas, running after the pup. "Stay! Sit!" she yelled, hoping he'd listen for once. "Stop! Vespra!"

He didn't listen, disappearing after his prey, and she ran in after him. Crouching lightly, she tried to find him before she accidentally stepped on him, his small barks coming from all around her as he ran in crazed zig-zags. "Isra?" she tried, hoping he would recognize his foster mother's name, hoping he would respond to it as he was prone to. It was enough though--adrenaline was running rampant through his veins and she started to crawl around searching for him.

When she finally caught him, her hands were bleeding lightly from the occasional scrape and a frown settled heavily on her face. "You need a lot of training before you can catch anything, stupid," she informed him. Vespra merely panted happily in her hands, tongue lolling, and Adámas snorted from where Akilah left her.

She knew her horse was laughing at her attempt at hunting, at the failure that occurred. Dust coated her like a second skin and her palms were starting to burn. Hearing another curse, she suddenly remembered Khasr, and walked back, hoping he got the nettles out by now.

[Colt]

Khasr fell into the clearing, surrounded by confusion. Animals fled, birds screeched and alighted, everything emptying with almost unreal speed. Suddenly, Khasr stopped. Calm overtook him. He reached for a javelin, the grace of a hunter flowing through his muscles. The world was moving very slowly, almost surreally, and he was in control. He sensed his target without seeing it. He spun and let the spear fly. It was slow, the speed of stalking beast readying itself to pounce. It rotated slightly, pointing true. It was a once-in-a-lifetime shot, perfect in every way. Nothing could stand against it. So, naturally, the poor tree didn’t have a chance. The javelin his it square in the center of the trunk, and a nasty splintering sound resounded through the clearing as the projectile embedded itself in the wood. The shaft quivered with a dull ringing sound, and Khasr was frozen in disbelief. He could have felled anything with that throw. Anything. The fact that the javelin had managed to pierce the bark of the tree was amazing in itself, but it didn’t feed anyone. It didn’t prove anything. He couldn’t rub it in his brother’s face. Slowly, Khasr approached his weapon and just stood there, staring at it. Wishing he could somehow take it back. Finally he let out a scream of frustration and slammed his fist against the tree trunk and earned a nice bruise. It was some big joke. He had been given the gift of a perfect shot so he could amuse some demented god, and he could almost hear the world laughing. In the back of his mind he knew he was being unreasonable, but he was too angry to care. He wanted his anger.

[Akilah Windsong]

She returned in time to see the javelin dig into, the splinters exploding off at impact. Birds rose angrily, their anxious chitters filling the air, and her horse, calmly drinking water during this mayhem, rose her head, ears twitching slightly at the disturbance.

And Adámas didn't spook easily. In her arms, Vespera stilled, a soft whine emerging in response to the tense atmosphere.

Akilah, for her part, took in everything and just started to laugh, loud and unrestrained. "This is so stupid," she managed to gasp out, hands brushing tears from her eyes. "You...me...that tree..." She stopped trying to speak, just laughed until her belly ached, and then some.

This hunt was doomed from the start. They had no plan, no co-ordination, it was just an unorganized disaster.

"At least it was fun," she finished her thoughts aloud, her laughter dying. Her arms relaxed their grip on a squirming Vesera and she leaned down to let the black pup flop onto the ground.

"Need some help?" she asked, turning to face a still fuming Khasr.

[Colt]

Khasr was vaguely aware of Akilah’s presence, but her words were only half-heard. His head was rushing and it was a few seconds before he fully processed what she had said. “What?” he shouted, wheeling. “Care to finish you first sentence? What about you, the tree and me? What about it? I’ll bet you couldn’t have done better!” He didn’t exactly shrink, but more seemed to coil. “So don’t you dare laugh at me, tentmonger! Don’t you dare!” He heard the dog start to growl and turned his piercing eye to it, then back to Akilah. He gave her one last glare, then turned and charged into the brush.

[Akilah Windsong]

He was screaming at her, his words heated and livid. The last insult, tentmonger, hurt--she didn't understand what it meant, but the way he spat it out conveyed more than any definition.

Vespera was growling at her feet, fur bristling, and Adámas's ears were laid back, her lips curling back. Her own anger amplified from theirs, and she yelled back, "I wasn't laughing at you, you humourless..." she paused, all her insults seeming childish in her head. She had only used them that way before, in childish spats that lasted a day and were forgotten in an hour, and all the grown-up ones sounded...too final. As though something would end.

She had no label now, just caught between the last days of childhood and the start of adulthood. Neither fish nor fowl, saying those adult swears she heard late at night, through the cloth walls and the flicker of candlelight, was like picking a side.

It scared her, a little.

Instead, she lowered her voice as she said her well-used curses, and tried to ignore the hurt that welled beneath her flames.