Open The Spirit of Adventure

[S'hazende]

OOC Note: Looking for S’hazende to meet another Kelvic perhaps even one of the Drykas people that he could travel to Endrykas with. If you have an idea, please feel free to PM me and discuss it or post a reply and I will do my best to work with what you would like for your character.

20 Spring 513 AV

S’hazende looked out across the sea of grass, the wide open plains of Cyphrus. The Drykas people he had been travelling with on the way to Endrykas had decided to camp for a second day and try and find their position before carrying on; which probably wouldn’t be until early the following morning now, giving the young, wayward Kelvic time to explore.

Powerful, masculine legs carried the animal’s body up the grassy hill, giving him a better view of the long, rolling hills before him. S’hazende couldn’t see anything but grass for miles; not even a tree to scratch his rump against. He flicked his long, ebony coloured tail, whipping it across his back before glancing down at the small encampment. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too long to the main camp. The excitement in his stomach was building, a real Drykas campsite; what if all the stories his mother had told him about Endrykas were true?

It was told that a man could walk in a straight line until his feet gave out and still not find the Endrykas campsite. S’hazende wondered then if it was possible for a horse to stumble upon a more favourable outcome, seen as he could gallop a lot faster than a man could run, and, being that he was a young stallion, he felt even more intrigued by the notion that led him to want to find out.

Presently, there was a nicker in the distance, causing S’hazende to look away from the small campsite once more to study the direction in which the sound had travelled from. He raised his head to the sky and took note on the position of the sun. That was important, was it not, watching for the position of the sun in regards to the location of one’s own camp in case they wanted to leave in any direction and safely return to the same place; or was he confusing location with time again? He pushed the sound from his mind and turned back to the camp to see if he was needed among the travellers to help with anything.

Before he had taken his second step, the noise came again, this time louder and more desperate than it had been the first time. S’hazende turned swiftly and cantered to the edge of the hill, looking out into the distance for any sign of movement and when none came, he called to the voice that had moments ago echoed across the plains from afar. The horse made a deep guttural sound that seemed to roll in the back of his throat before trumpeting out through his velvet nostrils.

As his call was returned, S’hazende bucked his back legs high in the air and tore off down the hill in a tremendous gallop, kicking grass and dust up and he raced off into the distance and away from the safety of the camp; of the safety in numbers and went to investigate.

[Kavala]

The trip was long overdue, and in many ways steeped in sadness. Kavala had stopped coming to Endrykas on a regular basis since the Spring of 512 when the Djed Storm had taken all her family from her. Somehow, her brother Vanator had survived, a prisoner of the Zith. But everyone else - her father, step mothers, siblings, and all the cousins and their children, aunts and uncles, including the whole Denusk Pavilion - had perished. Riding to Endrykas was just unthinkable in the wake of the pain of that loss.

But the world had rolled on its edges, bringing the seasons around again, and like all storm-tossed lives, healing had slowly happened. First, her brother had been discovered in a slave camp, traded away by the Zith because his unusual services hadn't been needed. Then later, his two twin children had been discovered in captivity again. Her family had went from no one to three. And those three had comforted her greatly.

Even now, the eagle that was her nephew circled the air scouting. His shadow had passed the black stallion's form, but he'd been unconcerned. Kavala had taught him horses were no threat but to be guarded and protected. Mounted beside the Konti healer was the twin kelvic of the eagle above, a simple house cat who had begged to come on the trip. She was wearing her human form, a lithe young woman of two with strawberry blond hair and a smile that was infectious. They were all mounted on Striders, though Cadra rode one that was bonded to Kavala. The truth was, her Konti aunt trusted no other horse but her aging eighteen year old buckskin stallion to her nieces safety. Kavala herself was mounted on another strider, a little copper penny colored flaxon maned mare full of herself to the extent she gave little bucks of pleasure randomly that the Konti rode through without too much fuss.

A small boy, perhaps of two, was tucked between Spitfire's neck and the Konti's protective lap, clutching the mane of the mare before him and delighting in his first trip all his own. His deep blue skin and bright shock of white hair labeled him an Akontak and closer to the gods than most. There was a third horse, another strider of a claybank dun color, which was loaded with supplies for the two ladies, one that could act as a spare mount had Larik grown tired of wearing his wings and guarding his family from the sky.

A man rode with them, blond, and looking a great deal like the young woman with strawberry blond hair who claimed his blood. He was armed, but rode his dun strider stallion easily. He laughed with the other two, but kept glancing up at the sky as if keeping an eye on his son who was flying above. The Konti and the Drykas man looked a little alike, despite the Konti's white and scaled skin and the man's dark tanned features. Half-siblings, enjoying a quick trip to their first and longest enduring home.

They all rode like they were born to horses. And they all laughed occasionally enough to demonstrate to any observer that they were comfortable and even happy in each other's company.

And surrounding the party, together with them, yet distinct in their own right was a pack of enormous dogs. The Imperial Watchers were either solid black or black speckled with harlequin white. And they moved with a certainty that they were escorting the two ladies and the man as easily as the eagle was from above. Cadra was armed, so too was the Konti as a crossbow hung from a weapons harness at her back. The Dyrkas warrior carried axes, swords, and a bow tucked against his leg. None of the party rode their horses with any headgear. The animals were as free as the humans on their backs were. The packhorse followed without a line, as part of the herd as the dogs themselves were.

And while they were moving easily, they were not lingering. One would not call their party traveling fast, but they were traveling comfortably. Occasionally the Konti would look skyward, as if silently speaking to the kelvic eagle above. A neigh pierced the air, and the horses in the party answered back.

And as the black horse drew closer, the woman shifted, stopping her strider, and half turned. The rest of the group reacted the same way. She turned, looked at the stallion overlooking their passing party on the slight rise of grass above them, and waited.

The black horse would feel a quiet presence, not threatening, but not indeed docile, pass through his mind. Warmth, welcome, curiosity... he was infused suddenly with feelings from the woman with pale white skin. There was no threat there, but in a way it was a greeting. She seemed surprised too, as the kelvic horse could see the expression crossed her face suddenly before it vanished.

She glanced at her companions and gestured up at the horse. "Kelvic. Young." Was all she said, her Konti gift flaring and picking up the stallions curiosity and sentience just as it delivered her empathic feelings to him.

[S'hazende]

During his time with the small Drykas group from the Opal Clan, S’hazende had become more and more confident about his place within the group. In the evenings he would watch their young after helping set up camp for the day, and early in the mornings he would go out with the hunters and study their craft, even if he hadn’t been permitted to join them with a weapon of his own yet. After a hunt they were usually on the road again, travelling towards the City of Tents, a place he had heard so much about and still never set eyes on. He had worked as a packhorse for the Drykas people and in return they had kept him sheltered and fed.

His short coat seemed to almost glow under the light of the sun, detailing his every curve and contour with silver lines set against his jet-black hair. He had become quiet masculine as a result of his work and looked well for a young stallion of four. As the eagle flew overhead, S’hazende called out again, an excited buck causing him to skip through the air at a great height.

His nostrils were flared as he stopped dead in his tracks on the small rise before the group he had come across. His tail was lifted slightly with the excitement of his gallop and the calls he had heard from the travellers horses. He stared down his straight nose with chocolate brown eyes that looked black from a distance; ears pricked forward, his head held high as he watched the woman with snow-white skin and fair hair staring back at him. To look at him, one might think he was on high-alert, and being that he was out in the middle of nowhere, faced with a small group wielding an assortment of dangerous weapons, they wouldn’t be too far from the truth; though in reality curiosity had been the cause of his current stature.

He saw the woman’s lips move slightly but didn’t feel threatened a strange calm settling between them; if anyone had wanted to kill him, they would have raised a weapon by now. The dogs on the other hand did cause somewhat of a stir, seen as the young Kelvic had faced his death against one in the grasslands not even a day after leaving his parents. As the memory rushed back, flooding his thoughts, he bounced gracefully on the spot, standing up on his hind-legs with the small lift of his upper body, though his hooves never strayed far from the ground. His head jolted up and down, eyes wide, displaying the white that usually lay hidden. He made a small sound that sounded like a deep thunder rolling in his throat before rearing up in that hi-ho Silver sort of fashion; kicking his front legs out in a display of strength and fearlessness, or more rather, foolishness.

In the same action the horse threw his body to the left in a spectacular jump that saw his back legs bucked up in the air, almost like an exciting dog running from his playmate, and he descended the small hill towards the group, causing the riders’ horses to flinch slightly, as if they were trying to judge which way he was going to go, around or straight through. S’hazende cantered around the group in a wide arc, giving the travellers a lot of space as not to upset their party, or cause their dogs to react.

As he went full circle, S’hazende was just about to race back in the direction he had come when he suddenly stopped and thought about the Drykas people he had been travelling with. They had young children, women, warriors, horses. The group before him didn’t exactly look defenceless, but there was no knowing what kind of situation might break out if the two parties were to collide. The Drykas people might attack and take all of their belongings; they were, after all, a very proud people who didn’t seem to like too many intruders crossing their paths. On the other hand it could be this group who caused the most damage and ruin his chance of ever seeing the City of Tents. He was suddenly faced with a decision he didn’t feel comfortable in making.

S’hazende slowly walked up the rise and then veered off to his right, only to turn sharply and face the group, perhaps if he waited they would move on and he could see which way they were going, make sure it was not towards the small campsite. He lowered his head slightly in an attempt to seem more relaxed. He had studied wild horses on the road while traveling with his parents and well understood the subtle cues they gave, what each neigh or whinny meant, how protective a stallion could be of his mares. He was able to fool the majority of those he came across, as to what he was, a Kelvic, but he could never been a hundred precent sure.

He nickered softly to the lead mare before lowering his head to sniff the ground and seemingly start grazing. Perhaps, he thought, if he could entice her forward the two could speak and in doing so get the other horse to lead her party away. His long, black mane flicked down between his ears which pointed in different directions, listening out for noises both behind him and in front. It was then he heard a far off cry, that which came from the eagle that had moments ago drifted overhead. What if the eagle belonged to this party? What if he was trained to search ahead or perhaps he was a Kelvic too? S’hazende reared his head suddenly and looked back over his shoulder, turning his body away from the travellers in order to spot the eagle.

The young Kelvic let out a desperate cry that sounded both distressed and somewhat intimidating. The sound of course was the type that carried far and echoed off into the distance of the wide open plains. The cry caused the travellers horses to stir, suddenly putting them all on edge and high alert, heads raised high, ears swivelling in all directions. S’hazende thought if he couldn’t get them to take flight, then he could at least warn his Drykas people that there may be danger in the area before it got too close. The young Kelvic had never seen himself as the protective type, but these sorts of situations usually led to him discovering things about himself that didn’t know he possessed, like the courage it had taken to wrestle a wild dog to the death. Just as he had that day, he would stand firm and he would stand strong.

[Kavala]

Kavala turned to Vanator for a moment, keeping her voice low, and whispered. "Van, tap the web and see who's in the area. I'd be surprised if a young kelvic is out here alone. He looks to be in too good of shape to be wandering on his own. I could be wrong, but if hes wandering free then hes most likely with other Drykas and not with slavers. See if the web shows anything. If hes alone, its okay. I don't think hes a threat. He feels more curious than anything." Kavala knew if any other Drykas were in the area, the webs that the Drykas laid throughout the grasslands would have already given their location away.

Drykas were no threat to Drykas. The Grasslanders were tight with one another, and though sometimes clan disputes broke out, the Drykas were a dying breed and any of them left living was precious. They had mostly set aside any differences to perpetuate their races. The men, having gone so far as to even adopt children or steal them from larger cities to augment their failing clans. The Djed Storm of 512 had taken its toll. So had the pox that had filled the Grass in previous seasons.

"Keep you bow close?" She asked of her brother then slipped off Spitfire, and left the mare pawing nervously in Vanator's stallions' shadow.

The Konti walked up the rise a bit, headed for the restless stallion, hoping the kelvic was friendly. Kavala's Konti gift was animal empathy. She could read the thoughts and feelings of animals and kelvics in a general sort of way. Once she knew them better, and had a working relationship sometimes she could pick up images or flashes of memories from them if they were thinking about past events or worrying about something present. But with this kelvic, she could just do what any horsewoman could do... watch his body language, keep her mind open to his feelings, and pray he didn't turn violent.

"There is no need for all this fussing, you know." Kavala said when she got closer, speaking common with a heavy pavi accent. "We're just a small group of Drykas headed for Endrykas to do some trading. Is everything okay with you? You seem concerned when there is no need for it. Are your people near here? Or are you all alone? If you have people we should probably say hello. If you are alone, you are more than welcome to travel with us a while." The Konti said, looking over the stallion where he stood. The black was huge, definitely not strider bloodlines though. He was strongly built and reminded her a great deal of her stallion Ghost, though he had hair like Silk had, another of her stallions.

"I'm Kavala Denusk, of the Denusk Pavilion, Sapphire Clan. I am a healer of animals and kelvics. That is my family behind me... my brother, his two children... one is above wearing wings for the moment, but his sister is a kelvic as well mounted on that nice mare beside her father. My son is also there, watching my mare for me." The Konti said, keeping her voice and posture soft.

She stood easily though, dressed in night armor with high drykas boots and leather pants that covered her muscled legs. Her upper arms were bare, her body wrapped in a sleeveless tunic. She was fit without being overly muscled. Her long hair was so white it almost looked transluecent. And her blue eyes had gone from a deep azure to utterly pale... making her look almost blind. There was a kindness in her that was wrapped in fortitude and conviction.

Back at the gathering of Denusks, the little boy had got tired of holding onto the mare himself and had stood up on her back awkwardly then jumped for the woman's arms. She caught him with a catlike grace and settled Tasival into her lap.

The big dogs, all of them, had followed the Konti up the rise. They were milling around her somewhat protectively, but not a single one growled. They simply looked on, well behaved all of them, curious what the stallion would do.

[S'hazende]

The excited stallion danced on the spot like a well-trained dressage horse, his neck bowed in the most beautiful fashion and his tail arched gracefully. His ears swivelled back as he heard Kavala approaching and his front legs were lifted into the air, powerful hind-quarters kicking him forward. He landed with a tremendous thump on all four hooves and spun his body to face the woman, a deep rolling sound emitted from his nasal passage which made his nostrils shrink accordingly as he pushed out the air that filled his lungs. Though the dogs at the woman’s side seemed tame, they still made the young Kelvic a little skittish.

In a demonstration of power he reared up, kicking his front legs out again in a brilliant display of both upper and lower body strength. He was able to stand on his hind legs for a prolonged time, signifying great balance and sheer will. As he came down the woman had come within speaking distance and didn’t seem deterred by his show of authority. His mane had flicked down over his face upon landing, disguising a couple of eagle feathers that lay tucked away in the fold, ones he had found throughout his travels. He peeked through the narrow gaps in his long, dark tresses, spying the woman’s moving lips as she spoke.

Upon closer inspection the woman would see the dull red paint on his face that covered his eyes. It had been made from the rich soils of the grasslands and adopted by the young man as a sort of hunting mask. Ever since he had returned to his group of Drykas with the blood of a wild dog splattered across his eyes and strapped to his hands like make-shift gloves, they had taken to calling him Redwing. Each of his feltlock joints were covered in a long, black hair about four or five inches in length and his pasterns displayed a nice straight line that didn’t sit on too much on an angle. His flank was tight, both as a result of the excitement and his youth.

S’hazende’s ears were pointed forward, giving the woman his full attention as she spoke. It was then he realised she knew exactly what he was and that there was no pulling the wool over her eyes. He tipped his head to one side slightly, raising his velvet muzzle as if reaching out to take in her scent from where she stood. He was still a few feet from Kavala and with the dogs so close, didn’t attempt to step forward any further. She had asked him about his people, the group he had been travelling with, but when she offered for him to travel with her party, he knew she was not yet a hundred percent sure of whether or not he was indeed alone.

He watched her pale pink lips move slowly. The woman had a certain grace about her that he was unfamiliar with, having spent the last few weeks with a group of Drykas that seemed to prefer communicating in grunts and whistles rather than actual words; something he would come to understand over time no doubt. Her skin was fair, much like her scarcely blonde hair, with an almost magical sheen to it, which reminded him of holding a piece of glass to the sun and watching the array of colours it spat out against the ground. She had introduced herself then as a Drykas, but he was having a hard time accepting that, other than the fact that they all rode horse-back and travelled with bows, which was usually a dead giveaway.

S’hazende glanced at the woman’s family and the winged creature in the sky above before he finally came to terms with the fact that her story seemed to harbour a lot more truth than he originally intended to believe. The sudden trust seemed to be echoed in his eyes as they lost the white lining they had moments ago been outlined with. The young Kelvic reared his head in an accepting nod and took to his Human form, bare and completely devoid of shame. There before the woman stood a man who only a month prior had seemed no more than a boy. His face wore the painted mask of earth, hair reaching down to his mid-section in a tangled mess of dark, wavy tendrils; his chocolate gaze seemingly burning a hole into her very soul, their eyes locked for a short time before he finally spoke.

“My name is S’hazende,” he said carefully, still a little unsure. His parents encouraged him not to speak to strangers, but coached him to be friendly all the same.

“I am travelling with a small group of Drykas who have promised to lead me to the City of Tents. There I seek to purchase a long bow and some other tools to enable me to better support myself out here,” he waved his left arm in a slow half circle, signalling to the land, the seas of grass in which he intended to spend his younger years just as his father, and his father before him had. As his arm fell at his side S’hazende felt suddenly intrigued, these people were Drykas too and heading to where he wanted to go. He wondered then if it would be faster to reach his end goal travelling with the group who all seemed to have their own mounts, whereas the people he had been moving throughout the grasslands with all went on foot with only the warriors riding horses to sit higher and scout ahead.

The young man bowed his head slightly, seemingly lost in thought as he pondered asking the woman to take him on. His long arms hung heavily at his sides, blackened fingers grazing the tops of his thighs almost nervously, though it wasn’t his naked flesh that had him on edge; he just wasn’t accustomed to this type of socialisation, where he was faced with speaking to a complete stranger. At least he had been able to study the group he walked with now, after his family had followed them for a couple of days into the depths of the grasslands.

“May I…” he was just about to ask when he was suddenly cut off by the piercing cry of the eagle that flew overhead, signalling the newcomers to the presence of someone, or something approaching. S’hazende turned his body when he heard the thundering hooves of the Drykas riders from his campsite approaching. They came to stand a couple of metres at his back and stared at Kavala and the group behind her.

“Is everything well?” The lead rider asked in pavi, his accent thick, “We heard your call.”

S’hazende nodded his head once, understanding the words ‘well’ and ‘call’ enough to respond. “All is well,” he assured them, using the basics of their language that he had been able to pick up.

The Drykas riders looked at Kavala and the leader nodded as if he recognised them to be of their kin before turning his horse. “Feel free to come back to camp and share a meal,” he extended the invite to the fair haired woman before thumping his horse in the side and taking off with the rest of the warriors to head back to camp.

S’hazenfe felt a strange warmth rush over his form as he watched the riders race back out of sight, a feeling of acceptance causing him to smile a small, slow smile that had abandoned his features before he looked back to Kavala, awaiting her response.

[Kavala]

Before the party with S'hazende's party could ride off, Vanator wheeled his little group to intercept and the two parties came together in a mingling of horses and riders, the men exchanging news and greetings. Kavala paid no mind, not considering the other Drykas either a threat nor enemy. On the see, everyone who shared blood with Striders were family. Everyone bound to the web were blood. Odds are the two groups would camp together that night, tell stories, exchange news and continue together towards Endrykas. There was strength in numbers, always, and the bigger the party the better the party was. Though if Kavala knew that most of the Drykas with the kelvic stallion were horseless she'd be concerned. The horse clans of The Sea of Grass always had an abundance of horses, more than enough for every man woman and child to ride, be remounted, and to move all their household goods. The Djed Storm had been devastating. But if she finally learned the true extent, the Konti would have been shattered inside.

Kavala trusted Vanator to exchange greetings and find out who the party was. She instead kept her attention on S'hazende. She admired his clean lines, his incredibly well put together conformation, and his fiery attitude. She recognized strength in his motions, but was indeed grateful when he settled and shifted.

When he did slip into his human form, she knelt among the dogs, resting on her heels, and carefully introduced them all to S'hazende. "This is Inavi, Ink, Indigo...." More flowed around her, tails wagging, keeping an eye on the stranger, but all but concealing the Konti with their huge bodies. "And this is Incense and Intense. These other two are just pups... Ivan and Iscar." Kavala said, stroking two harlequin puppies. The Konti rose up then, to her full height, that was still more diminutive than the kelvic and even the dogs surrounding them both now. As she'd introduced them, the dogs had flooded forward, tails wagging, to sniff at S'hazende and to nudge his hip and bury him along with the Konti in a sea of their masses.

"You'll find a good one at Endrykas for sure. The Drykas are well known for their bows." She knew he'd started to say something but had gotten interrupted by the newcomers. The konti moved closer then, close enough to slightly crowd the kelvic, and lifted her hand up, offering him her scent on the back of it. With her other hand she reached out, touched his shoulder and stroked it gently. "Easy..." She said softly, her voice a warm alto. Her gnosis tapped, she reached out her senses and found nothing wrong with him at all, no injuries nor soreness. She withdrew her hand carefully, keeping her motions calm and her actions non-threatening.

"You started to ask something before your people came. What was it?" She inquired, curious, her head tilting and looking up at the tall stranger she stood in front of. His nudity bothered her not at all. Kavala was surrounded by kelvics and family, none of which paid much attention to clothing nor shyness. What intrigued her more was the paint across his face and the feathers in his hair. She wanted to ask him about it, about why he painted himself, but she held back, letting him answer her question first.

[S'hazende]

S’hazende felt the hair on the back on his neck stand on end as the woman’s brother and family gave chase. He turned his long, lean form to watch as they stopped the Drykas riders but relaxed again when their interactions came across as friendly. It was a tough life, being thrown into a world where your only protection in life was a game of numbers; taking out even one or two of the warriors could spell the worst for the small tribe who seemed dilapidated enough and ever dwindling in numbers. Some of them wore large scars and others who had survived the pox where decorated with a vast array of marks that dotted their otherwise pleasant skin, affecting the arms and legs namely and the faces of those who were very unlucky. Most had been able to mask such misfortune with their tattoos, but it was the young who seemed worst afflicted.

As Kavala started introducing her dogs, S’hazende took a slow, calming breath; he didn’t want the animals to recognise his unease, knowing that some more sensitive creatures were upset and frazzled by such displays. He even managed to reach his hand out slowly and carefully to scratch between the larger dog’s ears. The animal’s fur was surprisingly soft and thick, perhaps as a result of the changing of seasons, still bearing a light winter coat that mingled with the new season’s coverage below. The action brought a smile to his lips, turning them up in a content curl. It was nice to be able to interact with animals that could otherwise prove to be very dangerous.

“The people I am travelling with do not have any dogs,” S’hazende admitted. “One of the children told me that they had all been killed defending them some weeks before I joined them.” His last words were stuttered as the woman reached out and touched his shoulder. The only woman who had ever touched him before was his mother and it didn’t make his skin goose-bump like Kavala’s touch did. It wasn’t that he disliked the woman’s touch, but it felt somewhat strange, making his stomach turn almost nervously. He couldn’t place the odd feeling, but traced it as it seemed to rush down his spine and tickle all the way down to his toes.

As the fair haired woman asked him to recall the words he had intended to share with her before the abrupt interruption, he had all but completely forgotten them. “I… I… uh…” S’hazende’s lips moved but his tongue became tied, fumbling on every word as if he had suddenly forgotten the native tongue, or common as most called it. It was frustrating, losing one’s voice, but the young man figured if the small party was going to stay with them a while that he would probably be able to study them before asking the important questions. “Would you like to come back to the camp?” He asked then, one of Kavala’s dogs knocking his hip in a bid to gain his attention and hopefully get the young Kelvic male to scratch him between the ears again. S’hazende smiled down at the animal, unexpectedly more at ease than he thought he could be around them.

As he turned in the long yellow grass that disguised his form to just below the hip, S’hazende noticed that the rest of the woman’s party had begun the trot back to the Drykas campsite, leaving her without a horse. S’hazende had been informed by one of the Drykas that it wasn’t traditional for a rider to mount a Kelvic, but he would feel more comfortable catching up to the party with Kavala, even if they were surrounded by the dogs, the grasslands were just too dangerous to spend time standing in one place alone for too long. He dipped his chin against his left shoulder and looked back at the Konti woman. “I will take you, you can have something to eat and rest in one of the tents and we can speak then.” He offered with a small reassuring smile before turning his body and taking back to his animal form just as quickly as he would in the reverse.

The large animal trod carefully with all the dogs around him and as they backed away from him to give the large horse a bit of room, he took to one knee, folding his right front leg under himself while stretching the left forward in a long, graceful line, lowing his masculine frame to allow the woman to mount him with little trouble, should she so wish. His mane fell on the right side of his neck, the ends tickling his shoulder and folded leg. His body was covered in a light dust of soil where he had been rolling on the ground earlier that morning after running with the Drykas horses. Water was getting low within the camp, so washing had been out of the question, unless you were ready to sacrifice your drinking water in an attempt to stay clean; but with so much travelling ahead of them, most had been smart about rationing their supplies.

S’hazende had been determined to stumble across a watering hole somewhere within the grasslands, but he knew that things like that might put him in danger, especially after his last encounter at a dried up watering hole. The other grassland animals tended to hang about such places and not all grassland creatures were so welcoming; given that most would eat a human for lunch, given half the change. S’hazende turned his head slightly and made a low, rumbling sound which seemed rather friendly and almost encouraging. A different sort of excitement flittered in his stomach then, one he hadn’t experienced for a long time, not since he was able to carry his family around at least. His mother had always been so fold of lying across the large stallion’s back with her feet folded back, tickling his rump. He remembered the feel of her delicate fingers being tangled through his mane and for the first time in a month, the young Kelvic felt somewhat at home.

[Kavala]

Kavala stepped forward when the stallion bowed for her. She was surprised by the turn of events, and would have never taken advantage of a kelvic to be a pack animal for her. But if she was absolutely honest with herself, the truth was she wanted to touch him and she did. Stepping closely, she ran her hands across his back and then gently across his flank, her eyes meeting his brown one that was closest to her. He was a big horse, so big in fact she wasn't sure she'd be able to mount from the ground like she could a strider or one of her own breed. His bowing made it easier and she reached up, fisted her hands in his mane, and gave a slight jump.

Kavala's weight settled across his back and her slim legs fell along his withers in a spot that would not interfere with his forward movement. The moment he rose she released his mane. No self-respecting Drykas woman had to hold on to a yvas or mane to stay balanced on a horse. Instead she shifted with him, relaxing her hips and letting them rock fluidly across his back so she did not interfere whatsoever in his motions. She kept her knees level, her legs slightly bent, and her seat light upon him. Her weight wasn't on her rear, but instead lightly distributed down his flanks so that it rode more carefully on him.

She muttered soothing words to him and reached forward, running her pale webbed hand down his arched and crested neck. She did the same to his other side, reaching beneath the cascade of his mane. He was beautiful, truly beautiful to her, and bareback and in as close of contact as they were, she could feel ever shift and every reset of his hooves. He had a good solid gait, and opening her senses to his feelings, she kept light tabs - especially now that she was touching him - on his comfort level and nervousness.

He was like riding a piece of the night. Perched on his back excited Kavala in a way that would be uncomfortable with women who were less comfortable with who they were. It fired all her excitement and had her alert in ways that she normally wasn't. She wondered, there in that moment, if he was bonded or had bonded in the past. But she doubted it, because his mind was clear and sharp and he didn't have the follower mentality that kelvics had whom had bonded too young or too often. She ran her hand down his shoulder and across to his chest, as far as she could reach, which wasn't much at all. She opened her mind up to him, flooding him with her feelings, letting her empathy work in reverse like it was prone to do with Kelvics.

And if she admitted it to herself, there was something growing in her the longer she watched him and the more she touched him. Though she didn't know him, not at all, she wanted him. She wanted his blood for her Denusks. It was a hard thing to admit, to acknowledge, and it was even harder to know she coveted someone that had free will. He would do no good mingling with the striders on the grassland, for they were a breed apart and crosses rarely survived long. But in Riverfall he would thrive. And if his mind was half of what his body was, strong and spirited, he was all she could ask for and more in a kelvic for her herds and what she had planned for the future. Her feelings flooded through the empathy, non-specific but raw in their honesty. Kavala held no slaves, took no ones free will, but if S'hazende was not bonded, she'd do her best to lure him back to The Sanctuary... at least for a season, if not more. It was spring... it was the absolute best time for new blood.

Kavala leaned forward and put her voice as close to being in his ear as she could have perched on the huge stallion. "I've been riding all my life. But I've never had the privilege of being carried by someone like you. Don't hold back, dance for me if you feel like it, run if you must, you won't put me in any danger. And just this once, for this short trip to your camp, I'm going to pretend you are mine. And I'm going to let you feel all the joy someone like me can feel being with someone like you." And if it was even possible, the gift opened up wider and though they were not bonded had had no intimate link, her emotions slid into him and he knew her thoughts because they were touching. And it was raw and honest and incredibly sophisticated.

But he'd see more than she intended. For gifts were fickle things, prone to give as much as take to those that had them. His mind flooded with something else, history stretching before him and behind him. And he knew, in that instant, that long ago, in a life long past, she'd been a kelvic horse as well and knew what it was to have the freedom of a form so powerful and versatile. Black and white flooded his senses, a shield pinto ... one of the first generations of kelvics. Kavala was thinking about it strongly, so strongly in fact she even knew her name back then.

A'Kenas Zanrisi. He could in many ways feel her jealousy of his freedom, his fluid motion, how limiting her Konti body was. But that was transmuted to joy as he started moving and she tipped her head back and laughed. Without thought she drummed her softly booted heels into his side gently, urging him to run, to skip and dance across the grass like only a horse could do. Joy, pure joy, infused him from her at what he was and at what they were doing.

[S'hazende]

His ears were pricked forward; weight distributed evenly, though he felt it in his right knee as Kavala slipped onto his back. The black points at the top of his head swivelled back slowly to listen to her as she spoke whispered words meant only for him. The riders ahead had some distance on them, but S’hazende was sure with a little effort and some good riding that he would be able to catch up and even surpass the small group. His back legs stretched forwards as he rose to stand; sure that Kavala was comfortably seated. The woman felt almost weightless on his back, nothing like his mother, who had been a very clumsy rider; always pulling his mane and wrapping her legs too tightly about his sides, heels digging into his sensitive flanks.

As the Konti woman moved forward, her hands traced the thick neck muscles under the curtain of black hair and S’hazende felt that same feeling he had experienced moments earlier in his human form, creep back into the pit of his stomach and make every fibre in his body spark into life. His eyes rolled closed as his legs gave a little shake, strange for an animal that was usually so sure of foot.

As the large horse felt the woman’s hand then move to trace over his shoulder, his skin quivered like one might witness in watching a cow rid itself of a fly; only he didn’t want to be rid of her, he was just prone to nerves as all young beings experiencing new things tended to be. He felt an unfamiliar warmth settle in his mind as soon as the woman had climbed upon his back and the two of them had become one. The young Kelvic felt as if he could suddenly know her words without hearing them and see her past without having been a part of it. He opened his eyes to watch the group ahead of them again and moved forward into a graceful, slow trot.

The horse moved with an elegance that made it seem as if time was standing still, as if their bodies weren’t bound to the earth and yet co-existed so naturally it seemed as though they could move through space and time. Her actions spoke in volumes where most words fell short. There was something in every stallion that made them want to go fast, to come first, to surpass and impress. As S’hazende felt the woman’s foot caress his sides with a reassuring nudge, he sprung from the earth in one long, powerful leap, descending the small rise as he seemly flew through the air. His hooves barely seemed to touch the ground as he raced forward, his mane whipped back against his neck, gracefully rising and falling with each powerful thrust of his back legs that kicked them forward.

He enjoyed the feel of the light breeze that suddenly felt heaving upon his face, his long head cutting through the draft as he raced towards the other riders and horses. His lean muscles rolling under the black coat of velvet as he moved, thundering across the grasslands like a runaway train headed downhill. The sprint to catch up with the others seemed over before it had begun, though the young Kelvic wasn’t going to just stop there. He tore past the riders, causing their horses to stir and want to give chase, followed by an uproar of voices and kicks, tugged manes and twisted saddles. The group of riders found themselves in control again as they watched the Konti woman and Kelvic stallion tear off into the distance.

One of his eagle feathers came loose and was lost to the wind as he shot towards the camp. S’hazende gave a high buck of his back legs that saw dust, dirt and severed dry grass lunged up into the air, his rider displayed from her seat, her landing controlled with the greatest of easy as she leaned back and then forward to fall graciously against the males back again. He did a circle of the camp which was made up of nine large tents, each housing about four Drykas people.

Upon circling the camp a second time S’hazende came to a slow halt alongside the tent he had been sharing with the family he was working for. The sides of the tent were left open, a dog skin hung from one edge; his first kill proudly displayed for all to see. One of the Drykas women had shown him how to skin and treat the fur after he had dragged it a good two miles back to the camp from where he had fought and survived. He would like very much to make something of the pelt to serve as a reminder that venturing out alone in the Sea of Grass was never a good idea.

The large horse stilled in an attempt to catch his breath, having swiftly taken Kavala to the desired location. His nostrils were flared and his head looked as if it were nodded quickly every now and then, the excited blood his heart had pumped through his veins mixed with the small rush of adrenalin that racing always acquired the body. The young Kelvic went to his knee then, allowing the woman to descend as easily as she had been able to mount the animal’s large form.

The grass here felt softer than the wild, dry weed that stretched to his hip just beyond the campsite and as soon as Kavala had taken to the earth, S’hazende let his large form meet the ground and rolled onto his back, which took him at least three or four attempts before he went completely over. The horse lay there for a prolonged moment, just enjoying the feel of the sun on his legs and the underside of his stomach while his face and back were protected by the shade the tent cast out across the lawn. He swished his long black tail over his rump, whipping himself in the side gently as if to remind himself that he couldn’t very well lie here all day, not while the camp had company. S’hazende took to his human form and sucked in a giant breath, filling his lungs happily before quickly getting to his feet and going to his backpack to find his plain, black pants and slip into them.

Long dark hair snaked down to reach the small of his back and was a mess of dry grass and feathers. Sun-kissed skin bore patches of dry dirt from where he had rolled and gone without washing for a couple of days. His pants hung from his hips loosely, obviously where they had once fit well, the stress and toll of going without the care of his parents that he had been so accustomed to, was lacking and starting to show. Of course the Drykas people wouldn’t let him starve, but there wasn’t always enough to go round and S’hazende was often tasked to forage with the rest of the horses. He turned his head to look up at Kavala from where he crouched, smiling a shy, slow smile that his lips almost seemed unsure to wear. “This is camp,” he admitted as he rose, standing a full six foot, three inches.

[Kavala]

The Konti slipped down off the stallions back and turned to thank him. But he seemed to want none of that and instead wandered off to roll and indulge himself in the soft earth outside his tent. At least, Kavala assumed it was his tent. She curiously looked on, noting the dog skin hanging from the entrance and the various other tents scattered around. Normally no Drykas would ride so boldly being a stranger into another Drykas encampment. There were rituals to preform and greetings and news to exchange. But in the distance she could see her family taking care of this in a casual way. She stood rock still a moment, transported back to her childhood, as she watched her brother speak and sign to the new group in an animated fashion. The men were at ease, smiling, and talking business with a casual air.

But not all was well. There should be a full and overflowing herd of horses grazing around the group. The camp itself should be filled with dogs and children and even hunting cats. Everyone should have a mount, a remount, and even spare horses beyond that. And since they were traveling, the herd would be close.

But there was no herd. There was barely even a main pavilion. Everyone had four person tents. Kavala's forehead creased with worry. Perhaps the Drykas were as hard hit as was said. Maybe they had lost most of their horses and now these people were on foot? How did they even transport their goods if only the men road? The Konti glanced around, concern in her mind. So when the Kelvic got done rolling and dressed as a human, she cautiously asked him.

"Where are all the horses here? The sheep, the goats, even the great hunting cats? How do these people even move their goods? Were the Drykas as hard hit as everyone says they were with both the Djed Storm and the Pox?" Her questions were cautious, not demanding, gently asked by a curious concerned soul. Though her skin was white and scaled, Kavala considered herself Drykas through and through. The Sea of Grass was where she was born and among these people. Their culture was her culture.