A chance encounter (Rhys)

[Mac]

Fall 9, 513 MacMac walked along, her tread near silent, slipping through the trees with her eyes alert and watching as she followed the quite obviously human made trail. She was not hunting. That would have been too distracting and she had a different purpose for her little journey this day. Having arrived in Syliras, the great walled citadel of the knights, only a few days previously, this was her second of a series of explorations of the environs outside that wall. If she was to begin hunting in this area, as a means of procuring both food and income for herself, then she needed to know the lay of the land. Having grown up in Alvadas, and being trained by her mother and grandfather from an early age to hunt, as they did, she knew her way around the land outside that walled city almost like the back of her hand. But here, she was as ignorant of the various topographical features that would orient her as a newborn babe. So, piecing together the bits of information that she’d been able to gather from chatting to those in taverns who knew the area, with what she was seeing with her own eyes, she was beginning the task of making a mental map, to guide her when she did begin to hunt. It wouldn’t do her much good to get out and bag a deer and then be lost, now would it? As she moved along, a slight breeze rustled the leaves about her, but she could still hear the other sounds of the forest, such as bird calls and the late buzz and chirps of various insects. This close to the city, she’d not seen any sign of game, just humans and their detritus, fire pits and make shift latrines, cut limbs and trees. She was getting closer to the road now, having doubled back the way she had come. It was late afternoon, and though she had left the city at dawn, she wasn’t particularly tired. Mac was used to walking all day, as was her huge dog, Nehru, who now trotted a few yards ahead of her. Mac was not an incautious person either, and she knew the inherent dangers of being out by herself, in a place that she wasn’t yet familiar with. That was one reason she had Nehru. He was a great hunting dog and could be a fierce guardian and protector. Still, she kept her eyes open and if danger were to make itself known, her first tactic would be to disappear as quickly and quietly as possible into the forest, and do her best to avoid whatever it was. Here in the woods, the forest canopy overhead blocked much of the sun’s light, the shifting shadows mixing with the dappled, diminished splotches of pale white and yellow. Her grandfather and mother had taught her how to blend in with this ever changing sea of colors, and her dark, earth toned clothing helped, along with fluid, silent movements. Right at this very moment she did not sense anything that put her on alert. But she tried to always stay attentive and observant, in case the breeze would bring to her ears any sound of potential trouble. Having walked out on the Kabrin road a good ways before beginning her day’s exploration, Mac was sure that a very short distance over towards the south she would run across it again, close to where its two branches fused into one, carrying travelers on its hard shoulder to far away Zeltiva. This path she was on had been made for some purpose by some hands, but it was not the main road itself. With the quietest of clicks of her tongue, she signaled to Nehru. Always on the alert for her commands, he stopped in his own explorations and turned to look at her. She signaled with her hand for him to come, and he obeyed. Silently, the two slipped from the path, and began to make their way south, to regain the road.

[Rhys Blodwen]

Almost there, almost there, almost there, almost almost almost... The words echoed as Rhys traveled the East Kabrin. He was a day- Maybe even mere hours - away from reaching Syliras at long, sweet last. It had been a long and arduous journey, in more ways than just one. The Djed storm had badly hurt the moral of Rhys and his traveling companions, and losses were great. Almost nothing was said between the occurrence of the Storm and now- The sorrow seemed to harrow the mens' merry disposition, replacing it with a quiet woe. No one dared to speak to another. Especially Rhys. Although normally quiet, the travelers made a silent agreement to give the boy as much space as possible. Undoubtedly, Rhys had lost more than any of the other travelers. The other travelers had lost a brother, a friend, maybe a horse. But Rhys... Rhys had lost his mother, an idol. The road was silent and eery. No one dared speak to the person next to him, or speak at all for that matter. Rhys was in the far back of the small group, staring at the backs of everyone else from a far distance. But today, Rhys wasn't staring at their backs. Rhys was staring at the horizon, upon which sat the majestic castle of which he had dreamed of for so long. It looked just like his mother said it would. It towered above the trees, boasting warm interiors, bustling commons, and a thorough safehaven. Rhys couldn't wait. Almost immediately, his head began panning to the forests to his left and right, thinking to himself silently. There had to be a faster route to Syliras! But he couldn't waste time trying to find it... He had to get there, and he had to get there now. Without a second thought, Rhys jumped into the brush, leaving the travelers behind. It would be a short trip, and he was certain that the other men wouldn't mind. Although... He did feel as if he had done something stupid or misguided. But he couldn't waste time thinking, could he? He HAD to get to Syliras, at all costs! Rhys rushed through the woods, causing a mighty ruckus. He had never run this fast before! It felt... It felt good. Rhys accelerated. Faster, faster, as fast as his unpracticed legs could go. He knocked his head back, his eyes shut, and laughed. The first sound he'd made all year! Lowering his head again, he pointed his nose forward, trying to become as aerodynamic as humanly possible. At this time, however, he had caused a large uproar, which would not suit his favor. Without warning, he stopped. But he had not reached Syliras. No, Syliras was lost to the forest ceiling. Rhys fell face-first to the frozen ground. He groaned in pain, turning over to see what had caused him to stop. His foot, his very own right foot, was ensnared in a root. It was funny... It didn't hurt, but when Rhys tried to get out of the trap, he failed. It seemed as if he were stuck... And then his mistake dawned on him. He was in the woods. Alone. Without a weapon. And he had made a lot of noise. Now, the forest seemed malicious. It was louder. The crickets, the frogs, the birds... They all sounded sharper. Like a blade. But he knew it wasn't the sounds that would hurt him... It was the things - the numerous nameless things undoubtedly watching him - that would hurt him. Petrified, Rhys sat, curning himself into a small ball, and trying to seem as small as possible. He couldn't move, lest the monsters get him...