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At Water's Edge

Started by Lion, April 05, 2017, 07:28:18 PM

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Lion

Never had his lungs burned so hot before, and the muscles in his legs sore with all the running.  He'd been running for days, hardly slept, hardly ate, and every sound woke him in the darkness.  Matada wasn't completely stupid, he slept away from his cook fires, and watching it go out was maddening. But if they caught him, they would string him up.  He was no longer their clan-kin. He was their prey.

The cliffs of the Kilanthro Mountains were high and treacherous and the trees in between grew upright on high ground, slopes making steep sweeps and the ground overgrown with moss and root. His claw feet gripped the undergrowth beneath him and he leapt across the gaping ridge between the base of one tree to another and used his tail to balance him, his body curled up, legs forward to reach the other side of it.

Behind him he could hear their movements, his ears down and pressed to the back of his head. They were as large and as powerful as he was, capable of everything he could do. And no matter how far the jump, a simple gap would not keep them away for long.

With a gasp, Matada's claws dug into the hard earth around the base of the tree, it's roots sticking up and out from the ravine wall.   His feet met the base of the wall and he scrambled upward and he only briefly saw from the corner of his eye his friend. "Tiall," he breathed, mind flickering back to the day he saved his life. But Tiall's green scales blended better than Matada's indigo, and from the other side of the ravine his bow was taut and the arrow fired.

Matada yanked himself up onto the other side just as the arrow narrowly missed the meat of his tail. And he pounced off yet again.  It was his fault, he knew. He didn't know what he'd been expecting when he found himself in his old clan territory. It had been a year since banishment.  He'd been stalking an ram when he saw Tiall....and his feathers.  Those used to be Matada's feathers. His friend just met his gaze, and didn't hesitate to give the order to give chase.  From out of the trees and bushes came a half a dozen Kulshedra hunters, bearing the paint of their tribe.

The fear that jolted through him sent Matada into a frenzy and he knew that even he was outnumbered.  So he did the only thing he could do. He ran. 

He pushed down the ache that swelled in his belly and made his chest hurt. That wasn't his home any longer. So he kept running and remembered the place where he'd last camped. It was there that a trap had been set. A makeshift net out of a skinned animal hide. It would hold them off, or so was his hope.  He leapt over the wire was spread between two trees and he made his way downhill.  The sound of rushing water was nearby.  Just past that river and he'd be out of their current territory. Chasing him any further would be too great a risk.

Their scent-marks ended here.

Matada lost his footing briefly and gravity soon took him away, rolling down that steep hill, and tumbled down to the river's embankment.  His face caked in dirt, his hands sore and raw and the feel of his scales peeling away. He panted and groaned, his head aching in his recover.  But there it was...the water's edge.

Slowly he moved and crawled into the water, letting the current take him.  With a heavy breath, he let himself be tossed by the water until he found the courage to swim. It would have been easy to simply let himself drown. But that was no way for him to die. Not yet...  They would win, boast about Matada the Great Hunter, and how he met his pathetic end. Fuckers. He wasn't about to give them that satisfaction.

He pulled his arms up and pushed toward the other side, swimming full force and crawled until he reached the edge, slumping down into the mud, body cold and shivering.  He panted heavily, opening his eyes vaguely and seeing a blurred figure not far from where he laid.  And he just watched them, orange eyes glassing over.




Like to kill mages?  Join the Order!
The Order of St. Agratha

Help Rebuild Connlaoth from the ashes of war!
The Red Legion

Jump in the water's fine!
Desert Valley Nights
Wrong Turn

"Go into battle determined to die and you will survive.  Go into battle hoping to live and surely you shall not." -Bushido proverb
"Life is a series of dogs." -George Carlin
"We must view with profound respect the infinite capacity of the human mind to resist the introduction of useful knowledge." -Thomas R. Lounsbury
"If a cosmic tree falls in the universal forest and nobody is evolved enough to hear it, does it make a sound?" -Unknown

Cheesigator

The first few days of her season were always miserable;the males would all watch her, eyes staring and piercing as she went about her day, and dawn would approach, and they would all line up, eager and awaiting her judgement as if they thought anything would ever change.

Obviously, it fucking didn't.

So she'd grown accustomed to spending as little time around them as possible, enough so that her clanmates would get the hint usually and give it up a few days in. She just didn't see the point, and wasn't interested in a single one of them. Why waste her time trying to rear their atrocious children when she could be much happier, spending time by herself and enjoying the raging freshwaters of the river that carved through their territory.

She had just climbed out of the water, clothes sopping wet and clinging to her form as she hauled some fish out with her, droplets running down her frame as she deposited her catch with the rest so far a bit higher up the shore; it was then that her ear flicked, she thought she heard something.

She blinked and looked down the shoreline as she dropped the fish; saw a person dragging themselves from the water, coughing and spluttering.

This area did not yet enter her tribe's territory, so it shouldn't have been as surprising as it was to see a stranger there, but after a moment she caught his scent as a breeze wafted it towards her; another Kulshedra? She didn't think there was another tribe so close by...

She wandered a little closer to him, curious, brushing her wet teal hair from her face as her stance became more of a defensive one by nature, unsure of this stranger. He obviously wasn't a great swimmer. She hesitated, before grabbing her spear and stepping even closer, slightly more confident with a weapon in her hands.

He wasn't in any good shape, that much she could see. But why was he here? Why was he alone and so ragged?

"Can you speak?" She growled, orange eyes narrowed, spear poised and pointed in his direction, though currently lowered, yet ready to throw at a moment's notice.

Lion

For all Matada knew this person was just another of his tribe that found him, and would kill him. That would be an end to that, and perhaps the vain hope that they were passed over his mind. It would end the shame he carried with him, end everything. Tiall had taken his place anyhow. All would be as it should.

They were walking downwind, and he licked his lips, catching the scent. It was unfamiliar. No not clankin.  Something else, from somewhere else.  Female, and she was in season. But being unfamiliar made him wary. His heart raced faster, but more out of fear than want. She could still kill him as he laid there, useless and immobile. He was far too exhausted to fight back.

Matada blinked, vision coming in more clearly as he saw her form. Teal, strong, lithe body. And that spear was rather prominently pointed in his face. He didn't move and only wriggled his eyes up to see her. better. She asked if he could speak, and he spat out a small bubble of water from his lips, gasping for air.

"I can," he whispered.  His eyes flitted up to her, and he didn't dare move.  The question on his mind was tentative and only then did he raise his head to get a better look at her scales, and her face, eyes flitting to that spear. Half his face was coated in mud and pebbles stuck to his cheek and face.  He licked his lips, clearing mud from them.

Female or not, she had the weapon closer in hand. That's what mattered. And his own were far too out of reach to make any difference. He moved slowly, arms trembling up as he pushed himself up, mud clinging to his chest, and arms and legs. That mud was only broken by the braided cord around his torso an shoulder that held his quiver, his bow tucked inside a band beside it. Muscles tensed when he looked up at her.

Leather wrappings around his wrists and upper arms, and layered hide shorts covering his lower half, leather pressing to his body from being drenched with water. He stayed in a half knelt position, one leg down, one knee pressed into the soil, hands holding himself up.

"Are you going to kill me?" It was best to get that cleared up and out of the way.




Like to kill mages?  Join the Order!
The Order of St. Agratha

Help Rebuild Connlaoth from the ashes of war!
The Red Legion

Jump in the water's fine!
Desert Valley Nights
Wrong Turn

"Go into battle determined to die and you will survive.  Go into battle hoping to live and surely you shall not." -Bushido proverb
"Life is a series of dogs." -George Carlin
"We must view with profound respect the infinite capacity of the human mind to resist the introduction of useful knowledge." -Thomas R. Lounsbury
"If a cosmic tree falls in the universal forest and nobody is evolved enough to hear it, does it make a sound?" -Unknown

Cheesigator

Beryl looked down at him with an expression mixed somewhere between curiosity and disdain. Had he not been covered in mud, he would have been rather pretty to look at.

She had no idea what he'd been through, why he was here. It could be a trap, he could be a scout for a tribe that ravaged others and stole their females. Her gaze flicked away from him, looking up and around as if to see if she could spot any potential members of his tribe. She raised her nose a titch, scenting the air and only tasting him and herself.

She regarded him carefully a few long moments, considering his question. She should kill him, to be sure. But she wasn't a vicious monster, she didn't want to kill another of her own kind than any other usually would. So after agonizing seconds that had been drawn out seemingly into eternity, she lowered her spear.

"No." She said coldly, baring her teeth a little in a light snarl before she took a wary step back, before turning and leaving him there.

She went back to her fish, pulling the drawstring of the knapsack closed as she got ready to leave, casting a few suspicious glances in his direction before hesitating a moment. He looked so weak and battered... So she reached in, pulled out a fish and tossed it to him, before pulling the hefty sack full of her catch over her shoulder and pulling her arms through the straps of it, wearing it like a backpack.

She'd take her catch back to the village, and let the elders know there was a stranger near their territory; it wasn't up to her to decide what to do with him, she was no warrior, nor a guard. They could deal with it. Not her problem.

Lion

If she knew he was hungry simply based on how sunken his ribs were, he wouldn't have blamed her. But the fact that he'd made his weakness so obvious was blamed on himself.  Matada swallowed down that prideful guilt however. He was no longer Matada the Great and Wise Hunter. He was Matada the Scorned. And what he could find, he would take it.

Life did not stop going just because one lost their will to live. There was no sorrow or pity in one's fear of being left behind. What else would he do except die? So he found the only logical choice would be to keep going.  If he was going to die, it would be on his terms.

Matada watched this strange creature, Teal in her motions, Teal in her apathy toward him. Just Teal everywhere. She was momentarily mesmerizing, walking away just like that. But he was more focused on her hands as the reached for a fish and tossed it to him.  And his other hand came up and caught it deftly from the air.

He gave no hesitation, taking a massive bite off the head and downing the rest of it in one gulp, bones and everything.  He made a soft growl. She was an enemy. And if there were more like her, it'd help to know where their location was.  For now he would wait on the river's edge and clean himself off, letting her wander off until he lost sight of her in the trees.

Matada only then scurried after, quiet, ducking into the greenish-blue hues of algae and vines.




Like to kill mages?  Join the Order!
The Order of St. Agratha

Help Rebuild Connlaoth from the ashes of war!
The Red Legion

Jump in the water's fine!
Desert Valley Nights
Wrong Turn

"Go into battle determined to die and you will survive.  Go into battle hoping to live and surely you shall not." -Bushido proverb
"Life is a series of dogs." -George Carlin
"We must view with profound respect the infinite capacity of the human mind to resist the introduction of useful knowledge." -Thomas R. Lounsbury
"If a cosmic tree falls in the universal forest and nobody is evolved enough to hear it, does it make a sound?" -Unknown

Cheesigator

He guzzled down the fish like it was nothing, and she didn't bother tossing him another one. Thin as he might be, he seemed perfectly capable of fending for himself. Still had his weapons and all. Again--not her problem.

She sneered a little, her ear flicking as she thought she heard him growl, and something told her this wasn't going to be the last of him. Fire, she hoped she was wrong.

With a huff she turned and headed into the forest, slipping through the trees as her walk started to a light jog, the fish sloshing and slapping around in the bag on her back as she made her way through the foliage. Every now and then though, she paused, scenting the air and listening for several moments at a time, making sure she was alone. If he had been a trap, she could be leading his clan right back to her own.

She glanced back at the bag of fish on her back about halfway back to her tribe's camp, and that doubt swirled up in her chest again; made her snarl and snap a fallen tree branch in half with her clawed foot. Why'd she done that? Why'd she let him go? She shoulda just killed him, or tied him up and tossed him into the river or... Or something.

Beryl yanked the bag from her back and let it flop to the forest ground with a heavy thump, tossing foliage over it for the moment as she took her spear and turned to look back in the direction of the river, those orange-amber eyes scanning the trees warily, tail lashing.

He'd be an idiot not to follow her. And she'd be an idiot to think he wouldn't. The fish would have to wait.

Her ears flattened backwards as she took up a guarded stance, stalking through the leaves and undergrowth with her teeth bared.

"If you come out now then I'll be far less likely to strike you when I see you, stranger." She growled.

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