S’hazende studied the woman’s face. Was that fear, worry, or just general concern her features displayed? He followed her gaze as it went about the small camp. For a boy who had spent his whole life with no more than his mother and father at any one time, the people in the camp seemed many; but Kavala had experienced a much different, fuller life and he couldn’t even begin to imagine what was going through her mind then. His arms hung at his sides, the tips of his blackened fingers scratched idly against the black material of his trousers, dirt stuffed tightly under his fingernails.
As she spoke, S’hazende found himself looking around the encampment again, as if trying to picture all the things she described. The goats, the sheep, the vast array of horses the children had spoken about once or twice but otherwise never mentioned. He had never set eyes on a hunting cat and the boy tipped his head, slightly confused. He was not privy to that kind of information, but he had witnessed first-hand their struggle to get around. It was slow going; a great toss-up between keeping the warriors on horses, or traveling further because the horses were freed up to carry belongings.
“They tell of an attack that took place some weeks before I joined them,” he spoke in common, more comfortable with his own language and sure that she understood him well. “Sometimes I go out hunting or scouting with them, looking for small herds of horses to round up and bring back but we have not been so lucky. We found three horses a few days ago and when I heard your horses call back to me earlier beyond the camp, I got curious; I wanted to help them.”
S’hazende pointed to a couple of goats that had been tired up near one of the bigger tents and scrunched his nose up at an old memory. His father had once brought home a home. It was a mean old billy with a long tangled beard and sharp curly horns. Even now, some two years on the young Kelvic could still recall the smell and the taste when it had come time to eat the poor animal. He smacked his tongue against the roof of his mouth a couple of times as if trying to banish the taste that would so readily return to his taste-buds. He spat and instantly regretted it, the action reminding him that he was thirsty and that there was not much water to go around.
“I heard one of the riders talking about some members of the clan back in Endrykas coming with more horses and livestock, but he thinks they are a couple of days ride away still; that was a week ago now. I was going to help them fetch water tonight to help see us through till then.” He looked back at the group approaching the camp, a mix of Kavala’s family and the Opal Clan warriors. They seemed to be getting along and looked almost thankful for outsider conversation and interaction. He hadn’t seen the lead rider smile since he had joined them almost a month ago, so it was nice then to see that he hadn’t completely forgotten how.
Some of the more curious children from the camp had peeked round from behind a wall of mismatched leather to investigate the new comer. S’hazende smiled quickly at one of them as if to encourage them all forward; to ensure them that there was no danger here. “Redwing,” a little girl called to him in Pavi and ran to his side, clutching his hand, her small fingers wrapped about his burly digits. She looked up at him and smiled a curious little grin before eyeing Kavala and shying away slightly, her body pushed against the young Kelvic’s right leg in an attempt to hide behind him.
S’hazende scooped the girl up effortlessly and held her against his side, the young child wrapping her legs either side of his flat hip. “This is Kavala,” he told the girl, “She is going to Endrykas,” he tried to best say with the basic Pavi he knew, but anyone could tell he was struggling; his words slow and overthought.
“Like us?” The girl of perhaps six years questioned, her eyes wide and the smile she wore endearing.
“Just like us,” he assured her with a smile of his own before looking over at Kavala.
He noticed the Konti woman’s scales in the new light and was mildly curious. She said she was Drykas, but her skin seemed for foreign, he had never seen anything like it in all his years, may they be short and the sight filled his mind with more and more questions.
As the girl’s mother came into view and summoned her daughter back with a wave, offering the tall Kelvic boy a kind smile as he put her daughter down. She was carried out of sight then and S’hazende felt suddenly aware, as they stood there alone, that Kavala hadn’t been introduced to anyone. “We should return to your family?” He asked, not completely sure on the protocols of the Drykas people, but aware of his own abrupt discomfort.
It was still early morning, just before lunch, so no doubt the new comers would be invited to stay for the meal, this morning’s hunt; whatever that had been. S’hazende could smell the broth of some sort of stew that the cooks had been preparing since he had left to go exploring earlier that day. The scents made his stomach rumble loudly; making the boy half wish the ground would open up and swallow him there and then. S’hazende folded his arms about his chest and sucked his upper lip between his teeth, a strange self-awareness creeping up on him. It wasn’t like him to make a fuss regarding over-talkative bellies or the likes, but in the woman’s company it suddenly seemed to matter.
As she spoke, S’hazende found himself looking around the encampment again, as if trying to picture all the things she described. The goats, the sheep, the vast array of horses the children had spoken about once or twice but otherwise never mentioned. He had never set eyes on a hunting cat and the boy tipped his head, slightly confused. He was not privy to that kind of information, but he had witnessed first-hand their struggle to get around. It was slow going; a great toss-up between keeping the warriors on horses, or traveling further because the horses were freed up to carry belongings.
“They tell of an attack that took place some weeks before I joined them,” he spoke in common, more comfortable with his own language and sure that she understood him well. “Sometimes I go out hunting or scouting with them, looking for small herds of horses to round up and bring back but we have not been so lucky. We found three horses a few days ago and when I heard your horses call back to me earlier beyond the camp, I got curious; I wanted to help them.”
S’hazende pointed to a couple of goats that had been tired up near one of the bigger tents and scrunched his nose up at an old memory. His father had once brought home a home. It was a mean old billy with a long tangled beard and sharp curly horns. Even now, some two years on the young Kelvic could still recall the smell and the taste when it had come time to eat the poor animal. He smacked his tongue against the roof of his mouth a couple of times as if trying to banish the taste that would so readily return to his taste-buds. He spat and instantly regretted it, the action reminding him that he was thirsty and that there was not much water to go around.
“I heard one of the riders talking about some members of the clan back in Endrykas coming with more horses and livestock, but he thinks they are a couple of days ride away still; that was a week ago now. I was going to help them fetch water tonight to help see us through till then.” He looked back at the group approaching the camp, a mix of Kavala’s family and the Opal Clan warriors. They seemed to be getting along and looked almost thankful for outsider conversation and interaction. He hadn’t seen the lead rider smile since he had joined them almost a month ago, so it was nice then to see that he hadn’t completely forgotten how.
Some of the more curious children from the camp had peeked round from behind a wall of mismatched leather to investigate the new comer. S’hazende smiled quickly at one of them as if to encourage them all forward; to ensure them that there was no danger here. “Redwing,” a little girl called to him in Pavi and ran to his side, clutching his hand, her small fingers wrapped about his burly digits. She looked up at him and smiled a curious little grin before eyeing Kavala and shying away slightly, her body pushed against the young Kelvic’s right leg in an attempt to hide behind him.
S’hazende scooped the girl up effortlessly and held her against his side, the young child wrapping her legs either side of his flat hip. “This is Kavala,” he told the girl, “She is going to Endrykas,” he tried to best say with the basic Pavi he knew, but anyone could tell he was struggling; his words slow and overthought.
“Like us?” The girl of perhaps six years questioned, her eyes wide and the smile she wore endearing.
“Just like us,” he assured her with a smile of his own before looking over at Kavala.
He noticed the Konti woman’s scales in the new light and was mildly curious. She said she was Drykas, but her skin seemed for foreign, he had never seen anything like it in all his years, may they be short and the sight filled his mind with more and more questions.
As the girl’s mother came into view and summoned her daughter back with a wave, offering the tall Kelvic boy a kind smile as he put her daughter down. She was carried out of sight then and S’hazende felt suddenly aware, as they stood there alone, that Kavala hadn’t been introduced to anyone. “We should return to your family?” He asked, not completely sure on the protocols of the Drykas people, but aware of his own abrupt discomfort.
It was still early morning, just before lunch, so no doubt the new comers would be invited to stay for the meal, this morning’s hunt; whatever that had been. S’hazende could smell the broth of some sort of stew that the cooks had been preparing since he had left to go exploring earlier that day. The scents made his stomach rumble loudly; making the boy half wish the ground would open up and swallow him there and then. S’hazende folded his arms about his chest and sucked his upper lip between his teeth, a strange self-awareness creeping up on him. It wasn’t like him to make a fuss regarding over-talkative bellies or the likes, but in the woman’s company it suddenly seemed to matter.
