51st Fall 515
Merevaika didn't like foraging. It was slow, boring, and had none of the thrill that came with hunting. There was no excitement, or chases or suspense that kept things interesting; instead, it was a simply matter of walking and examining each an every plant in hope to find something that she recognised.
And while she did, she didn't know whether she needed it or not. Merevaika wished she had a list of what to gather.
She wore her cloak, a thick warm black material that covered her back and almost trailed along the ground. It restricted her movements very slightly, but it was warm and comfortable, and Merevaika wouldn't have taken it off even f=if she was made to.
The landscape around her all looked the same, plants-wise anyway. There was rabbitbrush, she believed it was called, and buffalo grass, but as far as she knew, neither were edible. If they were, they wouldn't be tasty. Beggars couldn't be choosers, but Merevaika wasn't quite a beggar yet. She still had money and time, and she was determined to find something nice.
A river flowed beside her, the water lapping at its banks peacefully. The stones around were large and smooth, small rippled patterns of black and cream that swirled in spirals. When she was much younger, she used to collect them with her sisters, loving their look. They would line them up alongside the tent, and her mother would make up stories about how the stones protected them from the monsters in the night, warding off evil with their beauty.
Merevaika smiled at the fond memory, wishing she was that young again, young enough to waste time with pointless tasks like collected stones, young enough to believe in stories like that. She stopped down, pulling her cloak back, and picked up three, rubbing her fingers against the smooth, damp surface. The mud was pushed off, the true patterns of the stone revealed. With a soft smile, she tucked them in her basket, the weight comforting. Whether or not her mother had believed it, Merevaika had, and even now a small part of her wished that they really did ward off evil.
Distracted by her thoughts, she didn't notice the approaching figure - a girl she knew, a girl not much younger than herself.
Merevaika didn't like foraging. It was slow, boring, and had none of the thrill that came with hunting. There was no excitement, or chases or suspense that kept things interesting; instead, it was a simply matter of walking and examining each an every plant in hope to find something that she recognised.
And while she did, she didn't know whether she needed it or not. Merevaika wished she had a list of what to gather.
She wore her cloak, a thick warm black material that covered her back and almost trailed along the ground. It restricted her movements very slightly, but it was warm and comfortable, and Merevaika wouldn't have taken it off even f=if she was made to.
The landscape around her all looked the same, plants-wise anyway. There was rabbitbrush, she believed it was called, and buffalo grass, but as far as she knew, neither were edible. If they were, they wouldn't be tasty. Beggars couldn't be choosers, but Merevaika wasn't quite a beggar yet. She still had money and time, and she was determined to find something nice.
A river flowed beside her, the water lapping at its banks peacefully. The stones around were large and smooth, small rippled patterns of black and cream that swirled in spirals. When she was much younger, she used to collect them with her sisters, loving their look. They would line them up alongside the tent, and her mother would make up stories about how the stones protected them from the monsters in the night, warding off evil with their beauty.
Merevaika smiled at the fond memory, wishing she was that young again, young enough to waste time with pointless tasks like collected stones, young enough to believe in stories like that. She stopped down, pulling her cloak back, and picked up three, rubbing her fingers against the smooth, damp surface. The mud was pushed off, the true patterns of the stone revealed. With a soft smile, she tucked them in her basket, the weight comforting. Whether or not her mother had believed it, Merevaika had, and even now a small part of her wished that they really did ward off evil.
Distracted by her thoughts, she didn't notice the approaching figure - a girl she knew, a girl not much younger than herself.