Be as the Grass (Dahlia)

[Cardinal]

6th of Winter, 510 AV Winter was just at its beginning when the edge of Ekytol was reached, each step further north causing the temperature to drop slightly. The wind seemed to become brisker when it didn’t blow from the south, and the desert-dweller and his companion for this trip found themselves chuckling over not being made for such harsh conditions. This was a joke, of course, for the desert they came from was every bit as tough to live in as the grass plains of Cyphrus – But when one had spent their entire lives in certain climates the shock of another was terrible indeed. Kochavi had made this trip before, twice in fact. One of those trips had lasted many years, and it seemed the Chaktawe man was filled with a wanderlust that couldn’t be satisfied even in the face of danger. He came to Cyphrus to trade, but the more he spoke on his history his companion, Dahlia, began to understand that his travels were more than commerce… Kochavi came to see the rivers, and he hoped to one day imagine perfectly what his people had lived like. He was a dreamer. As time passed and the distance spread the sand slowly turned to grass, tickling at their bare feet. Each step inwards sent the blades of grass higher and higher, until they found themselves chest-deep in it. Kochavi explained, “It gets taller still the further north we travel.” The Sea of Grass was terrifying to a desert-dweller experiencing it for the first time. The ground was firm, not allowing for the gentle give of sand. Each step caused plants to brush against one’s body… Monstrous, giant plants that looked nothing like what one would be used to in Eyktol. Then, in the case of a Chaktawe, the special parts of the hands used to sense movements would be terribly overwhelmed – Everything seemed to move, made worse by each gust of wind ripping through the plains, and constantly muddling to the point where very little was actually detectable. It was like stepping out into high sunlight after being deep in a cave for many days. It would take many more days to get adjusted to their surroundings. “The people of the Sea of Grass are the Drykas,” Kochavi explained. “They feel they own Cyphrus, and they live so fully on their lands that I can assure you that they are already aware we are here. If we get into trouble with the animals or other races here, the Drykas will likely let it happen unless they deem our survival necessary. But if we break their laws, they will find us to punish us, Dahlia. So listen carefully to me… Everything here is to be considered sacred. Waste nothing while we are here, and do not kill simply to kill… If you are inclined to do so. “These people, if we encounter them, will not trust us. They will trust you even less than me for what you are. You must not let that anger you, because it is simply life here. Do you understand me?”

[Dahlia]

Dahlia nodded quietly. She clearly understood not being trusted, for that judgement has always been with her. She was much more conserned about the climate, at this moment. The temperature was extremely cold for her, especially in winter. She was starting to twitch involuntarily, as if the shivering wasn't enough. She moved her body closer to Lily, her horse, for warmth before looking down at the tall grass. She was a little frightened at exactly how tall the vegetation gets, and how uncomfortable it felt against her feet. Also, the wind was so blistering, that she winced not at the wind itself, but at the frigid sensation it gave.

Maybe this isn't a good idea, she thought as she continued to follow her companion. She noticed the grass getting even taller, almost to her eyes now. She, as of now, is pretty thankful for the extra set of eyelids she's born with, since the grass was slapping her face. She turned over to Lily, who reluctantly followed, trembling as well. Dahlia's throat began to feel dry, and she wondered how long it would be until they took a break.