2 Ymiden 721
Wealth skill: Fieldcraft
OOC Notes
1. Consequence given by Pig Boy in Done and Dusted:
Sometime after returning to his camp in the wilds, Dandelion hears the squalling of an animal. Following the sound, he comes upon a fox with a brilliant, pristine coat, caught in a small bear-style trap with teeth, digging into its foreleg. The trap doesn't belong to Dandelion. Are there other hunters or trappers poaching his stomping grounds? What will he do about this animal that was caught in a trap? Will he take the opportunity to set him free, finish the job and claim the pelt for himself, or simply leave well enough alone and ignore it? It seems to be his choice (Optional consequence. Think of it is a mid-game starter quest. Completely optional and you're not obliged to use it.)
2. Weather. From the Rharne calendar for the Rebirth Cycle 721: The last few days before Ymiden arrives, however, see a violent hurricane coming in through the Crescent Sea from the 110th to the 123rd of Ashan. This thread is set in the aftermath of that storm
Sometime after returning to his camp in the wilds, Dandelion hears the squalling of an animal. Following the sound, he comes upon a fox with a brilliant, pristine coat, caught in a small bear-style trap with teeth, digging into its foreleg. The trap doesn't belong to Dandelion. Are there other hunters or trappers poaching his stomping grounds? What will he do about this animal that was caught in a trap? Will he take the opportunity to set him free, finish the job and claim the pelt for himself, or simply leave well enough alone and ignore it? It seems to be his choice (Optional consequence. Think of it is a mid-game starter quest. Completely optional and you're not obliged to use it.)
2. Weather. From the Rharne calendar for the Rebirth Cycle 721: The last few days before Ymiden arrives, however, see a violent hurricane coming in through the Crescent Sea from the 110th to the 123rd of Ashan. This thread is set in the aftermath of that storm
At first, he assumed that the noise was just the result of one creature hunting another, or the 'prey' fighting back. It happened all the time that the prey got a yelp or a scream out before the end came and it was silenced with a final killing bite or blow. Less often, but not unknown were times when trapped prey lashed back at its hunter and injured it, causing the predator to yelp in its turn. But then the sounds kept going, and Dan frowned. Ok, not a simple hunt then. Or if it was, then it was a hunt gone badly wrong, leaving a creature so hurt out there that it would rather make noise to draw scavengers and predators down on it than huddle quietly somewhere and hope its wounds healed before something else killed it, which was what hurt animals usually did.
He snarled silently, and stopped at the next vaguely suitable campsite he came to. He had other responsibilities too, to his ponies and to himself, not just to the wild that he tried to be a part of.
He parked the cart, unharnessed the ponies and rubbed them down before turning them loose to graze, pitched the tent, fed the coals in the brazier, fetched water, secured his fish trap in a likely spot in the stream, and took a deep breath. Because if there was something hurt out there? Then it was probably down to him to track it down and, if necessary, put it out of its misery quickly and cleanly.
He slung his gathering bag over his shoulder, settling the strap across his body, and picked up his spear and bow. His knife was, as ever, already on his belt. He fastened a quiver of arrows on his other hip and stood for a long moment, listening, trying to pinpoint where the sound was coming from before he set off up the stream towards the looming forest.
Picking up a stick that had broken to a sharp point, Dan used it to dig up a burdock root, and a couple of thistle roots to roast in the ashes of his fire. It didn't slow him down much, and it made sure that he would at least have something to eat tonight, whatever happened. He also stopped and stooped here and there to pluck a few fresh greens - baby nettle leaves, young dandelions, then as the stream veered in under the trees, he found a patch of tangy sorrel, which always made a delicious addition to baked fish, and picked a handful of that. Each time he gathered leaves, he wrapped them carefully in a scrap of cloth and tucked them into the bag he carried slung across his back, so that his hands were free to work, and also so that he wouldn't risk losing the precious food he already had if something meant he had to flee or fight.
The animal squalling came again, close by this time, and he turned cautiously towards it - and stopped, with all the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end in warning that something was not right. The animal making the noise was a fox with its leg caught in the jaws of a miniature bear trap. It was a beautiful animal, with a full, glorious, pristine coat - uncannily so. This was Ymiden. Animals with heavy fur should look patchy and mottled right now, as they were - or at least ought to be - in the middle of shedding their cold weather coats and growing in their hot weather ones instead, so that they could survive the full blast of Saun without overheating. (Come Vhalar, they would be shedding their hot weather coat and growing in a new cold weather coat for Zi'da and Cylus) Even if it wasn't shedding yet, there ought to be blood on it from the injured leg and mud, dirt, or forest floor debris caught in the fur from the creature's attempts to free itself from the trap. Add to that the fact that the forest itself was intelligent, and the whole thing felt like a test of some sort.
If it was a test, then whoever had set the trap had probably failed. Dan did trap, for food, but he used snares set to give a quick, clean death, or pit traps that would contain and hold a larger creature without hurting it more than the fall into the pit did. Certainly not this casual cruelty of metal teeth grinding into an animal's leg while the animal still lived. He could still give it a quick, merciful, death and cure its coat, though furs were harder to cure well than a bare hide - you couldn't soak them for one thing, because you needed the hair to stay on, not come out. He could, but given the general uncannyness of the situation, he didn't think that was a good idea.
He signed cautiously, as much to the surrounding forest as to the animal, "I mean no harm." He moved, taking care to be as unthreatening as possible, to within reach of the trapped fox. It snarled at him, vivid green eyes boring into his own silver-grey ones, as he took the improvised digging stick and used it to pry the jaws far enough apart to free the fox.
The fox sprang free. The jaws sprung back into place, clamping around the stick rather than a leg.
Dan released the stick into the trap's captivity. There were plenty of other sticks he could use. He turned empty hands palm up to the fox, which backed quickly away, limping, but using the injured leg, so it probably wasn't broken at least. And as it was moving faster than Dan could safely chase it down and catch it, there probably wasn't anything that wouldn't heal. Movement by a bush caught Dan's eye, and he turned just enough to see a second fox, as pristine and beautiful as the trapped one, emerge from a bush and greet the first fox. Presumably, the pair were mated, which meant the injured fox would also have support and protection while it healed. There was nothing more he could do for it.
Well, almost nothing. He waited until they were gone, and couldn't be scared anymore, then drew his knife and began to scratch-carve words into the stick. Up one side he wrote "Fek off" and down the other, he wrote, "Use cages instead". He didn't sign the words, just left them there to be found by whichever fool with more greed than sense had set the trap in the first place.
Then, with a sigh and another snarl, he got to his feet and began to systematically quarter this part of the forest for any more of these metal traps that might be out there, probing as he went with another stick he picked up from the ground rather than risk damaging the shaft of his spear.
It still felt like a test. Maybe it had been. But whether he had passed or failed - well, that remained to be seen. Maybe he'd find out some day. Maybe he never would. Either way, he had done as he had done. And there was no changing it, so survival, as ever, demanded that he focus on the now and on the future, and not torment himself with might-have-beens.
"Signed words" Spoken words
