18 Ashan 722
The sound of wolf howls and crashing brush that signified a hunting wolf pack was still fresh in Dan's mind when he rolled out of bed at dawn and went through the morning routine of grooming the ponies and pulling on his own clothes. If the wolves had been successful, they might have left something he could raid, even if it was only bones to boil into a broth. The trial was cold enough that any remains would still be safe. He nodded to himself, settling into that as a first task for the trial. If there was anything left of it, it would take long breaks to process it. Better, he decided, to check early and have the trial-light if he needed it.
He gathered up spear and knife, and his general hunting kit just in case he ran across anything, and eased his way out past his camp and into the edge of the trees. He looked in a slow and steady arc from right to left and back again. He drew in long, calming breaths of cold air that bit at the back of nose and throat, and searched it for any trace of blood-scent. He listened hard, taking in the pattern of bird song and insect drone, and trying to decipher any holes in it that might signal the presence of a predator on the prowl. Eyes, ears, and nose worked together to seek out clues to any potential carcass. At last, he pinpointed the right direction and set off that way with his spear held ready. He doubted he would be the only creature on the hunt for that carcass, and if so he might have to defend himself from the other seekers. He took no offense at that, only fitted himself into the pattern of the wild alongside them.
The wolves had taken down a doe. The carcass lay, half eaten, in a trampled, blood-spattered clearing. The throat had been torn out, and the hind legs were all gone, but the shoulders were intact, and Dan's eyes lit up in delight at the amount of hide that remained. The edges were torn and ragged, to be sure, but scavengers couldn't be choosers.
He circled the edge of the clearing, scanning the damp earth, until he found the wolves' departing tracks, and then returned to the remains of the deer. "Thank you for your life," he told it in abbreviated sign. "I will not waste it." Dead eyes stared glassily back and one corner of his mouth lifted in apology. Then he drew his knife and began to skin the deer's shoulders. He pulled up an edge of hide until it stretched the bonds holding skin to muscle, slid the knife in to cut it free, then pulled a bit more. Sometimes the knife slipped and poked a hole in the hide. Gradually though, he got one side of the hide free, and paused to clean the knife and start on the meat.
There was a soft, hopeful, whine behind him, and he froze for just a moment before turning 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. It was a pair of foxes, in glorious tawny coats, pristine and perfect from their sharp muzzles to the white tips of their tails. Too perfect to be real, but they were clearly hungry and hoping for some of the meat.
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, vivid green eyes boring into his own silver-grey ones, and cut two pieces of teeth-torn meat from the carcass where the wolves had bitten her open. He tossed one to each fox, and each one was nipped deftly out of the air and swallowed without missing a beat. Indeed, they grinned at him, mouths open, tongues lolling out, and began to play in and out of the bushes as if he were worth no more attention than the bushes themselves. As if he were truly part of the forest around them.
A single green leaf fluttered down in front of Dan. His gaze snapped up towards the treetops and was caught by a pair of purple eyes staring back at him. He rested his hand on his spear and the sense of being watched sharpened as more blue and purple eyes appeared, staring down at them. Dan swallowed, then laid spear and knife on the ground in front of him and sat back on his heels, turning his empty hands palm up in a gesture of peace. As he did, the owners of the eyes came soaring down on bright wings. Dan's breath caught in his delighted throat at the sight of a whole family of Fenrix dropping out of the trees now that it was safe to do so. He lost his balance, and sat down hard on the ground when he realised, and they skittered out of his way until he went still again. One of the youngsters snapped up a particularly irritating buzz right by his ear, and while he flinched at it, he thought it meant well. Another crept close and snuffled curiously at Dan's fingers, while he tried not to move in any way that might startle or hurt it. One of the adults looked over and made a sort of scolding sound, whereupon the youngster backed off, long ears drooping apologetically. Dan smiled wryly and the youngster chirruped instead and nudged the deer, before looking back at Dan.
He sighed, reached carefully for his knife (explaining why he needed it at the same time so that none of them got the wrong idea) and began to cut more small pieces. No matter how many he cut, though, the amount of meat left on the carcass never seemed to grow any less. The Fenrix took his offered pieces delicately and trustingly from his fingers, and as time went on, they got bolder, some romping with the foxes, some actually climbing onto Dan, until he had one on each shoulder, and one with its chin nestled in his hair, watching what he was doing and squeaking a commentary.
He rolled his eyes and kept working, cooking a piece for himself on a tiny fire beside him and tearing it to shreds with his teeth, before he went back to skinning the remains of the deer. Some of the Fenrix pranced over to 'help' by latching onto the skin and pulling it clear for him, which meant he had to be extra careful with his cuts so as to not cut them as well. Still, it didn't seem to take that long to get it done.
Then there was the sound of more wings above him, and he tipped his head back (to the squeaked scolding of the Fenrix nestled there) in time to see a huge flock of birds land in the trees that ringed the clearing and stare hopefully down at him.
He heaved a sigh so long that one of the Fenrix's immediately in front had to use its wings to keep its balance and asked with exasperation and a full screed of sarcasm, "You as well? What is this, the dinner bell for the whole world? Do you expect me to hand feed the lot of you?"
The nearest bird, a large black crow, croaked back at him with a bob of its head that looked and sounded as if it was laughing along with his joke and then hopped down to join the Fenrix games. Another handful of birds spiralled down and stalked over to wait for their turn at the food, squabbling with each other all the while. He scowled. "Form an orderly queue or get out of the way."
A thousand beady eyes turned to stare at him as the clearing went uncannily quiet. Then there was an authoritive sounding croak from the crow and a ripple of replies from the birds in the trees as they did as he asked, forming a spiral of feathered forms from the tree tops down the branches and tree trunks, until the last of them perched just above shoulder height, flipped their wings into place and tilted their heads on one side as if to say, "Well? What are you waiting for?"
Dan gave up and began cutting more shreds from the never shrinking carcass. After all, what else was he supposed to do?
Filler Text, Filler Text filler, filler filler filler. This needs to be longer, I swear the word counter is messing with me, it keeps eating my words.
"Signed words" Spoken words
