Winter 91, 513
The Trail of Waterfalls
Cassandra stepped to the very edge of the river, her boots sinking in the moist gravel of the riverbed. The meandering water would occasionally spray her toes from that distance, but she decided she would be finished by the time that became any discomfort. In her hands was a fishing rod, old of fashion but barely used; the Svefra knew ocean fishing best, for it was how she made her meals and her wages, and she did not often take out her river equipment.
No, the river was for leisure, for one or two fish which she may or may not throw back. Makutsi was a right and worthy deity, but Cassandra only worshipped her casually. From what little she had heard of the hearty, dancing goddess, she had told herself it was best.
The late Winter air had warmed beneath Syna's white-hot glow, but in the hours of late afternoon the cold was regaining its losses. A hard breeze tugged at her flyaways, catching on her lips and eyelashes and forcing her head to shake where her hands were too busy to fix them. Having prepared her bait and checked her line for snags, Cass tossed her fishing rod back and gave it a practiced twirl.
But before she had the chance to throw it, a peculiar sound reached her ear. Her periphery caught sight of some large and moving--she should have expected someone else to be in a public place like this, but somehow the normalcy of his presence escaped her. Instead she felt defensive, snuck up on. Leaning the rod in her left hand, she drew her knife in the other. "Who is there?" She said, her accent heavy as rope. When she saw that he was not a monster calmed only a little. "What are you thinking, sneaking around so?"
The Trail of Waterfalls
Cassandra stepped to the very edge of the river, her boots sinking in the moist gravel of the riverbed. The meandering water would occasionally spray her toes from that distance, but she decided she would be finished by the time that became any discomfort. In her hands was a fishing rod, old of fashion but barely used; the Svefra knew ocean fishing best, for it was how she made her meals and her wages, and she did not often take out her river equipment.
No, the river was for leisure, for one or two fish which she may or may not throw back. Makutsi was a right and worthy deity, but Cassandra only worshipped her casually. From what little she had heard of the hearty, dancing goddess, she had told herself it was best.
The late Winter air had warmed beneath Syna's white-hot glow, but in the hours of late afternoon the cold was regaining its losses. A hard breeze tugged at her flyaways, catching on her lips and eyelashes and forcing her head to shake where her hands were too busy to fix them. Having prepared her bait and checked her line for snags, Cass tossed her fishing rod back and gave it a practiced twirl.
But before she had the chance to throw it, a peculiar sound reached her ear. Her periphery caught sight of some large and moving--she should have expected someone else to be in a public place like this, but somehow the normalcy of his presence escaped her. Instead she felt defensive, snuck up on. Leaning the rod in her left hand, she drew her knife in the other. "Who is there?" She said, her accent heavy as rope. When she saw that he was not a monster calmed only a little. "What are you thinking, sneaking around so?"