Fall 90, 513 AV
morning
Morwen's breath frosted the air -- not true frost, with Syna well on her way up the dome of the heavens, but a chill which nipped at the falcon's nares and occasionally tickled past her plumage as she flew. Clouds ambled across the sky, long tails of white and gray hinting at weather to come. Not today, likely, but perhaps tomorrow or even the day after. She would worry about the weather when it arrived.
Below, a herd of cattle grazed, black and red-brown forms speckled across the plains. The migratory city had slowed in its progress over past days, its herds cropping huge swathes of grassland nearly to the ground. She remembered, vaguely, the same happening last fall -- though the Kelvic hadn't then thought to notice, or care. Why they did so, and why now as opposed to earlier in the year... well, that remained a mystery to her.
But it was a mystery she wondered about, now. At least a little.
And as she observed the zibri feeding, all uncaring of the falcon above, Khida also wondered: what did the goddess of the wilds think? Did she care that the cattle and horses ate the city's path through the grasslands? The Sea, after all, was wild -- and the cattle, by definition, were not. She thought. But a herd of deer might nearly eat a road through the grasses as well; just not so thoroughly and widely as the Drykas herds were doing. So perhaps the goddess didn't mind at all.
It was a mystery Khida never expected to answer, but found interesting to muse over nonetheless.
morning
Morwen's breath frosted the air -- not true frost, with Syna well on her way up the dome of the heavens, but a chill which nipped at the falcon's nares and occasionally tickled past her plumage as she flew. Clouds ambled across the sky, long tails of white and gray hinting at weather to come. Not today, likely, but perhaps tomorrow or even the day after. She would worry about the weather when it arrived.
Below, a herd of cattle grazed, black and red-brown forms speckled across the plains. The migratory city had slowed in its progress over past days, its herds cropping huge swathes of grassland nearly to the ground. She remembered, vaguely, the same happening last fall -- though the Kelvic hadn't then thought to notice, or care. Why they did so, and why now as opposed to earlier in the year... well, that remained a mystery to her.
But it was a mystery she wondered about, now. At least a little.
And as she observed the zibri feeding, all uncaring of the falcon above, Khida also wondered: what did the goddess of the wilds think? Did she care that the cattle and horses ate the city's path through the grasslands? The Sea, after all, was wild -- and the cattle, by definition, were not. She thought. But a herd of deer might nearly eat a road through the grasses as well; just not so thoroughly and widely as the Drykas herds were doing. So perhaps the goddess didn't mind at all.
It was a mystery Khida never expected to answer, but found interesting to muse over nonetheless.
Common | Pavi | someone else
