.
"Common Speech"
"Xanthean Speech"
"Xanthean Speech"
Qit finally caught sight of the river, and relaxed for just a moment. She looked upstream, seeing that it was deeper and calmer the further up it went. Downstream seemed shallower, rocky, but with mild rapids. But the main problem was that while the banks were protected by trees growing over and outward, the majority of the river was open to the sky. And she doubted this hunter just left his dragonbird thing behind. If she was spotted by that flighted beast while trying to swim across, it probably could just scoop her up and eat her easily. That was not an option, not at the speeds that thing could fly.
Crossing was definitely a no go.
The momentary recess let her feel just how exhausted she was. Her chest still heaved and her entire body hurt. She was overheated, and needed to find sanctuary now that she was close to the means. Unless... This could be her sanctuary. She didn't know how much time she had, but she had another ruse to try. Just because she'd decided to not cross did not mean they knew she wouldn't.
Scrambling, she removed her blouse and her trousers, leaving her in a doe skin loin cloth with a javelin strapped to her back and her sword strapped to her thigh. Taking the arrow between her teeth, she ripped the trousers up into many sections. She mopped up the blood on her wounds once more, staining all but one longer piece. Then she hobbled upstream, occasionally throwing one blood soaked rag into the woods. She was watching the banks of the river as she followed it, climbing up the slight elevation, heaving heavily now.
She didn't have much left in the tank, that was for sure. When she reached a small overhang, she stopped at it, and using her fingers, wiped up her blood and flicked it all around the area. She wanted it to seem she was indecisive, and stood here a while before making a decision. She threw the last blood soaked rag further upstream onto the bank. Then she picked up a heavy rock, and tossed heavily into the river, purposefully to make a loud plunking noise and stirring up the mud there. Finally she smeared her blood on her blouse and tossed it into the river, watching as the lazy current carried it down stream.
Using the loose piece of cloth that she'd saved, she tied it around her wound, biting heavily into the arrow to hold back the scream of pain. She then drew her javelin, and quietly slipped into the brush, taking careful steps as she made her way further and further upstream, going slower now. Silent, relying on her stealth and caution.
She was deliberate in each step, skirting briars this time, using the javelin to keep branches off of her. Once she made her way upstream a fair ways, on the last of her energy, she reached another small overhang. She dropped to her butt on it and scooted to the edge, and stabbed her javelin deep into the side of the embankment. She pushed it deeper and deeper into the soil, and pushed on it, testing it. Finally confident in its hold, she gingerly slipped over the edge, one hand one the javelin.
It held, briefly, slowing her descent, and letting her swing beneath the embankment in thick mud. There were many roots and insects in this alcove, and she shlurped into the mud, dropping to a knee, fighting the pain in her leg with a moan around the arrow. She looked at the water, scanning the surface, seeing that she had disturbed it slight enough to cause ripples, but small ones that would dissipate before long. She took the arrow from her teeth, and stuck it in the mud behind her, where she then sat down, leaning against the back wall.
She was tired. Too tired. But she had one last thing to do. Thankfully it wasn't too difficult of one, and was already half done. She removed the temporary bandage on her leg and buried deep in the stick mud. Then she gooped up a thick wad in her hands and slathered it over the wound and the rest of the leg. It was a queer feeling but it helped to cool her down and provide relief. She continued to spread mud over her entire form, from her face to her head, to her groin and stomach to her toes. She left nothing to chance. She spread it through her hair, until she was beyond recognizable. Not that anyone would be around to recognize her anyways.
Once satisfied that she could cover no more, she slumped back against the wall, and quieted her breath, and relaxed. There was nothing left to give. Nothing to do. If her attackers found her, she was dead. She had plenty of fight left but no breath or energy to do it. So she sat there in the shade, muddy water cooling her legs, and her chest rising soft and slow. This was as good a place to hide or die as any other she supposed.
If only she could have one last good meal. No one should ever die hungry. No predator should. And with that last thought, she closed her eyes, and listened to the sound of the lazing river, waiting to hear the telltale splashes of her approaching attackers.
Crossing was definitely a no go.
The momentary recess let her feel just how exhausted she was. Her chest still heaved and her entire body hurt. She was overheated, and needed to find sanctuary now that she was close to the means. Unless... This could be her sanctuary. She didn't know how much time she had, but she had another ruse to try. Just because she'd decided to not cross did not mean they knew she wouldn't.
Scrambling, she removed her blouse and her trousers, leaving her in a doe skin loin cloth with a javelin strapped to her back and her sword strapped to her thigh. Taking the arrow between her teeth, she ripped the trousers up into many sections. She mopped up the blood on her wounds once more, staining all but one longer piece. Then she hobbled upstream, occasionally throwing one blood soaked rag into the woods. She was watching the banks of the river as she followed it, climbing up the slight elevation, heaving heavily now.
She didn't have much left in the tank, that was for sure. When she reached a small overhang, she stopped at it, and using her fingers, wiped up her blood and flicked it all around the area. She wanted it to seem she was indecisive, and stood here a while before making a decision. She threw the last blood soaked rag further upstream onto the bank. Then she picked up a heavy rock, and tossed heavily into the river, purposefully to make a loud plunking noise and stirring up the mud there. Finally she smeared her blood on her blouse and tossed it into the river, watching as the lazy current carried it down stream.
Using the loose piece of cloth that she'd saved, she tied it around her wound, biting heavily into the arrow to hold back the scream of pain. She then drew her javelin, and quietly slipped into the brush, taking careful steps as she made her way further and further upstream, going slower now. Silent, relying on her stealth and caution.
She was deliberate in each step, skirting briars this time, using the javelin to keep branches off of her. Once she made her way upstream a fair ways, on the last of her energy, she reached another small overhang. She dropped to her butt on it and scooted to the edge, and stabbed her javelin deep into the side of the embankment. She pushed it deeper and deeper into the soil, and pushed on it, testing it. Finally confident in its hold, she gingerly slipped over the edge, one hand one the javelin.
It held, briefly, slowing her descent, and letting her swing beneath the embankment in thick mud. There were many roots and insects in this alcove, and she shlurped into the mud, dropping to a knee, fighting the pain in her leg with a moan around the arrow. She looked at the water, scanning the surface, seeing that she had disturbed it slight enough to cause ripples, but small ones that would dissipate before long. She took the arrow from her teeth, and stuck it in the mud behind her, where she then sat down, leaning against the back wall.
She was tired. Too tired. But she had one last thing to do. Thankfully it wasn't too difficult of one, and was already half done. She removed the temporary bandage on her leg and buried deep in the stick mud. Then she gooped up a thick wad in her hands and slathered it over the wound and the rest of the leg. It was a queer feeling but it helped to cool her down and provide relief. She continued to spread mud over her entire form, from her face to her head, to her groin and stomach to her toes. She left nothing to chance. She spread it through her hair, until she was beyond recognizable. Not that anyone would be around to recognize her anyways.
Once satisfied that she could cover no more, she slumped back against the wall, and quieted her breath, and relaxed. There was nothing left to give. Nothing to do. If her attackers found her, she was dead. She had plenty of fight left but no breath or energy to do it. So she sat there in the shade, muddy water cooling her legs, and her chest rising soft and slow. This was as good a place to hide or die as any other she supposed.
If only she could have one last good meal. No one should ever die hungry. No predator should. And with that last thought, she closed her eyes, and listened to the sound of the lazing river, waiting to hear the telltale splashes of her approaching attackers.
Created by Yolande
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