Solo The Cold Road

[Ronan]

The Cold Road Timestamp: 86th of Fall, 511 AV Taldera was cold. It wasn't the kind of cold you felt from a chilly night on the Cyphrus plains. This was true cold - deep and piercing, and so definitely unshakeable. And now, it was on this cold and frigid road that Ronan found himself walking alone.

[Ronan]

Ronan and Leto had parted ways temporarily, so that they could both follow different branches of the same path. They had seen via the Web that the paths rejoined, and so they would meet up again at the end. The reason for their split was simple. They needed to know for definite if Sam had passed through here, and how recently. If they both travelled down one fork in this cold road, they ran the danger of missing footprints. Thus far, Ronan had seen nothing trackable. Snow hares ran out in front of him once in a while, fleeing and then burying in snow laden shrubbery. He walked between the trees, and so it was a hotbed of animal activity. The light felt old and primeval here, sparkling as it was through the tall, ancient trees of the Talderan forest. This whole place had that sense... of old times. Of the first days of man and his kindred races. It seemed, to Ronan, that Taldera was frozen in time, and untouchable to the Gods. He half imagined a primitive human to walk out in front of him, brandishing animal furs and a spear. He shook his head. The blanket of white was driving him delirious.

[Ronan]

Having seen no trace of footfall, Ronan decided to enter the Web again. Last time he had only looked - he had not touched, nor explored, such as were the potentials Sam had taught him. He stood still in the cold for a moment, trying to concentrate against the bite. He managed to garner a level of grounding, imagining himself as the centre of all polarity. The energy had to come from within. With a push, he almost fell into his astral form, colour washing away from the world around him until it resembled what lay beneath the surface. There were threads here, though they were not Sama'els. He could recognise a thread for what it was, if it had originated from a familiar face. They held their own tune, their own feeling and flavour. One touch would tell him a lot. But no, these were not his. He moved forward, and brushed his spiritual hand against the lines anyhow. If Sam had touched them too, at least he would feel his residual presence here. There was nothing. The touch only gave him foreign images and messages, things he didn't know, left by people he had and never would meet. It was strange though, as if the Web bound so many thoughts and memories. They were always here for as long as the lines stood. He wondered what it took for the lines to cease to exist. If he willed it, could he sever a thread and end a line of communication? He did not intend to, but the thought lingered. He could see why it was a Drykas Mystery. It was safer in the hands of few than the grasping palms of the many. He continued his spirit walk, unwittingly draining himself of energy. He was not skilled in the Web, and really he should not have entered alone. Oblivious to this fact, he still brushed his fingers along the threads, looking, feeling, searching for something familiar. He wanted to sense Sam, but hope was fading. He could be on the wrong road. And that was more than likely right now. There wasn't just the one path through this forest.

[Ronan]

Ronan continued his efforts in the Web in vain, unaware he pushed his body into fatigue on the physical plane. He sensed nothing of his friend as he touched the strands. When he stood still and tried to feel what lay around him, he could not tell anything either. Eventually, he followed the silver cord back to his own body, inhaling as he melded back into flesh. Colour bleached the world, spiralling out from the astral plain, manifesting into reality. As he arrived into his body once again, he slumped over, suddenly feeling lightheaded. He had been stupid. His body had been left out in the cold alone, and he had lingered too long for someone with little experience in the Drykas magicks. He rummaged in his sack to find something to eat. Anything. He needed an energy burst and quickly. He dug into a small portion of rations and drank from his water canteen. It didn't seem to help, a dull throbbing and dizziness taking control in his head. He decided he'd try and press on regardless. Leto might be waiting for him after all. It was a bad decision though. Night was slowly falling, the sky darkening, and it seemed the snow was intent on stopping his progress. All the while he stumbled, feeling fainter and fainter from his foray into the astral realm. He thought he could do it. Ronan thought he could make it to Leto at least. But he didn't, since fate had other ideas. He stumbled on something, a raised patch of ground, and in his half delirious state he tumbled right over. His head caught on a rock. Darkness and oblivion crashed around him.

[Ronan]

Sniffing. Heavy breathing, something like panting. And dribble? Drool? Fat, wet droplets falling onto his cheek. He began to stir from a dream he could barely remember. Ronan's eyes flickered open, filtered sunlight passing through bracken and foliage. Snow light. White and bright. He blinked several times, hearing highly audible breath. He grasped a hand out, and recoiled in soft, shaggy fur, a little matted with the snow. Finally aware, he shot upwards and met the eyes of a hungry looking wolf. It whined at him, remaining still. In that moment he scuttled back across the ground and his hand patted at his pocket, searching for his dagger. A pain seared through his head, from the fall he began to recollect. When he finally brandished the blade, it seemed to anger the wolf. The mutt eyed him with dark, wild pools, and then growled. He held the dagger out to break the distance, trying to gather enough momentum to stand up. He managed to, but in that one moment the wolf leapt through the air, teeth bared with a menace. Ronan prepared to defend his life once again...

[Ronan]

Ronan met teeth with dagger hilt. The wolf cried out as a canine fell from its mouth. It must have been weak in the first place... as he looked over the animal, he quickly became aware of its haggardness. Malnourishment. It hadn't been eating properly, or perhaps had just been unable to find food in this forsaken place. He glanced around. It was just the wolf and him, no one else frequenting the cold road that lay out before him. The wolf came round quickly, bleeding a little from its mouth, and lunged again. Ronan slammed the dagger against it hard, and then twisted to slash at the shaggy mutt's frame. He didn't want to kill it, but it was kill or be killed. The battle wasn't helped by a grogginess in Ronan's head, lingering from his fall. He managed to catch a leg joint, and the thing howled again in pain. He hoped soon enough the thing would flee rather than fight it out to the death. After a final attempt against Ronan, he nicked the beast's left ear, and finally it began to hobble away. A gruesome trail of scarlet dripped from its wounds into the white snow. Ronan fell back to the ground, his breath heaving. He had gotten himself into a real situation, he thought with a grimace. Eventually, he continued down the road, holding his head, but the path seemed to be endless. And the light was dying, a dusky grey descending upon the landscape around him. He wondered how far ahead Leto was, and if he had found anything, but he dared not enter the Web again for the time being to find out. He continued for as far as he could, and finally knew he had to find shelter and stop for the dark hours. After a search, he found a small hollow to one side of the path, half in a tree, half beside a small tower of stones. He gathered some fallen bracken and with flint and steel, pushed them together to create that vital spark. It took a few moments, the cold implements failing to spark immediately. Then, a little fiery drift, and the bracken was burning. He circled his hands over the flames and rubbed them together, grateful of the warmth. He wrapped himself in all that he had and sat back in the hollow, hiding from watchful eyes. The fire was a signal to his presence, he knew, but he couldn't afford to sleep without it. He would be did with frostbite by the early dregs of light, if there were no flames to keep his bones from freezing completely. He went to his waterskin but it was frozen up, so he had to hold that over the small fire for a while too. Taking a drink, he began to eat some of his food supplies, stomach roaring with hunger. This was not an ideal solution. He knew that when his head was hurting less he needed to return to the Web and seek out Leto, but he could barely move. He just wanted to stay by the fire, and curl up and sleep. But by the same token, Ronan knew he wouldn't be able to get any sleep. This was a place of sounds, sights and smells. Of cold and unlife, but also of scavengers in the darkness, and bright searching eyes. It was a place of the unknown.

[Ronan]

Lucid shadows grew long in the flame light, clawing at trees and dark snow. Ronan's eyes, shrouded, saw it all. He huddled in the hollow, hoping Leto was safe, and hoping everyone else was too. Had they been foolish to pursue him? When he was a little warmer, and his belly a little fuller, he felt ready to make a short foray back into the Web. He had to. He remained seated and held out his hands, closing his eyes. There was a distant wolf howl in the interim, but too far away to worry about now. It was difficult, trying to relax enough to shrug out of his body. It took him a few moments, and a battle of will to eradicate the virulent thoughts in his head. Finally, he pushed forward, grey and silver swirling like mist. His astral body clambered up from the ground and he began to make his way away from the campfire. Still he could not sense anything resonant of Sama'el. He ventured further, hoping the fork in the road wasn't so far off. In the end he didn't come across it, but he realised he could shift through the foliage and see if he could find Leto's presence. Indeed, he quickly found a temporary thread. Leto had passed through, though it stretched further on. It seemed he had gotten further before retiring in the darkness. Ronan owed stumbling over a rock and a wolf for his tardiness. He touched the strand, trying to ascertain how recently he had passed through. It felt fresh and new, and full of memories. It made him feel a little more confident that he wasn't so far behind. Turning, he knew he needed to return to his body. He was not skilful enough to endure here for long. He followed the thread and climbed back into warm flesh. Colour returned to the world, and a light headache struck him. The fire still crackled. He would get moving again at first light. Hopefully with a little pace he could meet up with Leto again. But still he was plagued with worry. Were they following completely the wrong route? It seemed the trail had gone dead so far back. When he had touched Leto's thread he had still sensed nothing of Sama'el. It was entirely possible they had followed a different path through the forest, but Ronan was used to unpleasant coincidences. He just hoped this wouldn't be another one.

[Ronan]

The season was on the verge of passing over, and first light came in the form of a winter sun. A molten ball cresting over a pearly grey horizon. Thin wisps of cloud were illuminated in the light, peachy and drifting. The fire had long died, though the embers still held a residual, dark heat. He looked them over, and gathered his things. He had slept a little, surprisingly. But he had been haunted by nightmares, and awoke with anxiety over Tairell returning. The horse had bolted not long ago, when he and Leto had first started down this road. He could feel her somewhat, and only hoped she was safe. But he knew worry over her would cripple him - he needed to push on. He pulled his pack over his back and began walking again. Fingers of light reached between the trees, illuminating patches of snow and ice. Some had melted, while snow mounded even higher in other parts. Snow fell at the moment, but only in specks, drifting in a light breeze. He walked for a long while, thinking on things, when suddenly his reverie was interrupted by rustles in the foliage. He drew his dagger almost immediately. Another wolf? Something worse? Fears ran through his head, knowing all sorts of beasts roamed this bleak wilderness. He was alone too - and though he had been lucky last time, he was unsure he would be lucky again. He stood still, silent, breath pluming from his mouth in visible clouds. Another rustle. Large steps. A bear? A dire animal? He began to take a step back, swallowing to try and stay calm. Something burst from the trees, and he brandished the dagger defensively. A shape moved through the gloom, and he nearly stumbled backwards, growling with Drykas spirit. But it was all over in an instant. This was no beast, he thought, watching the creature's sheepish smile, and swishing tail as it bounded towards him. "Tairell," he said, relief washing over him as he sheathed the dagger. "Thank the Gods you're alright." He moved to her, patting her roughly on the side, giddy with what had just transpired. "Don't ever run off and frighten me like that again, old girl." A hope swelled inside of him, because he was no longer alone. She was a horse, that much was true, but to a Drykas, a Strider was as strong and loyal a friend as any.

[Ronan]

Her yvas still garbed as he had left it, Ronan climbed onto Tairell's back and they both settled into a comfortable walk through these primeval woods. Her feet padded in the snow, and once or twice he shifted to help her keep balance on patches of ice. Poor girl, he thought. She nearly fell over on one occasion, feet losing grip completely, and having no experience in these conditions, she had no idea what to do in such a situation. As the sun reached its zenith, the cold dissipated a little. Of course, it never went, but a warmth entered the air, keeping his body from freezing over completely. He stopped a bell later and gave Tairell some more treats, which she accepted ravenously. He himself took water and ate a small portion of trail rations. Nuts and dried fruits and the like. When they were both refreshed, he climbed back on and they continued. From his touching of the strands, he knew Leto wasn't far off. He had possibly got moving at dawn too, and the thought spurred Ronan on a little, gently nudging Tairell to get her gait up a notch. She complied, but he didn't let her move too fast, for fear of falling and breaking a leg. Where possible, he guided her through bare ground or thick snow, both safer than the patches of ice his keen eyes looked out for.