70th of Zi'da.
They knew something was following them. The easy solution would be to take Traveller back into the sky and start fresh on this little adventure somewhere further afield... or perhaps turn the tables and hunt down the predator, get a good meal out of it to extend their rations. However, the barren sand held no tracks for long, not even their own, and the howling wind swept all evidence of their presence from the makeshift campfield before it was even out of view. Besides. Their purpose was to test their-- well, to be honest, his-- abilities out in the wild-lands for when he'd take the initiation test. It'd hardly be a fair test if he turned his back at the first sign of danger or hardship. Wasn't like he'd be able to do it in the actual test. Besides, surrounded by no less than three wolves and a Sohr Khal... he didn't fear the creature, whatever it might be. Nope. Not even a little.
That said, he did fear the Stormwastes. Nothing about it felt right. The Stormlands were vast, verdant, plentiful, with meadows and grass and trees. Farms stretched acres upon acres, he'd spotted small villages dotting the land, houses, livestock. It reminded him of the towns and settlements of Rynmere, scattered between dense stretches of forest and meadows on the outskirts of the Duchies, close enough to thrive off its trade and income while still independent enough to provide a quaint sense of homeliness and independence as he rode through them on a rickety wagon, offering waves and pleasantries to the chatty folk working hard in the dirt. They couldn't be more than a day's ride from here. A place so desolate that he hadn't even found a single flower. The largest creatures living here were insects, scurrying under the remains of dead trees and rocks.
Now that he was becoming more accustomed to them, he referred back to his supernatural senses of prey and survival frequently and found them both lacking severely. No actual animals populated the land, and if they did, none of them were prey. Materials were few and far between, no trees, no leaves, not even enough dead remains of blasted tree-husks to make his own shelter from, and the sand was everywhere, filling in all the caves and holes, sucking in all the rocks on the surface like an ever-ravenous maw. How was he supposed to make a campfire? Build a shelter? Find, hunt, cook his food or worse still, harvest water? Was he even expected to, would they provide him with all those things? Surely not, or it wouldn't be much of a survival challenge, more of a waiting game. Soon he realised that he'd made a terrible mistake by bringing along such an entourage. It was great for protection, but they were all feeling hungry... and if he'd had one hungry mouth to feed, it wouldn't be too terrible, but he had five.
The benefit was, they could split up. Myrth and Greyhide went north and south respectively, Traveller took to the skies and chose a direction of his choosing, and Nir'wei stayed behind with Cold to make something of a shelter and organise their things. The air was dry and the sun beat down from overhead, but the cold climate was the real killer, bringing frosty chills across the land and making Nir'wei quickly wish he'd brought warmer clothes. Instead, he wrapped a spare shirt around his shoulders and tied it tight just under his nose with the sleeves tucked inside to make a windbreaker, the bottom folded up over his head to cover it from the sun and protect his mouth and nose from the dust and sand drifting in the strong wind currents. Other excess clothes from Traveller's shed travel packs were worn double over his first pair to retain as much body heat as possible.
The rest of their packs and gear were pressed into a crevice between the two large stones that would serve as their chief defense against the elements. A bold shoulder of rust-red rock sticking out of the sand like a broken tooth. It didn't offer any overhead protection but the warmth of the sun was a much-needed respite at the moment; what they really needed was an escape from the chilling wind that howled across the region day and night. With their gear stored to protect against predators stealing it away during the night, he strung the canvas of the tent into a tight wedge, one corner pinned against the rock with an iron nail and the other three arranged around the base of the rock, leaving enough room for both the bedroll and their fire, which he again ringed with a small collection of stones to stop harsh winds from toppling the small cone of neatly-arranged sticks and burning them all to death in their sleep.
After that, one by one, the animals returned. Traveller was the first, being the fastest and able to pick out the most direct route. The beast he carried in his grip wasn't something Nir was familiar with; it looked oddly canine, but there were far too many alien and unusual features spread over its body to determine anything more than that. Still, he worked with what he had, producing a hunting knife and skinning its thick hide, quartering the tough meat while the other two wolves returned, each with small offerings of their own; a sickly-looking hare with more bones than meat, and a rat. From the sound of it, neither had found any sources of water. Figured. With no living trees, no actual dirt to dig in and nothing short of a miracle to make it rain, they'd barely last another trial before running out, and after that, they really wouldn't have any other option but to abandon their journey. Food they could find, shelter they could make, but without a source of water...
With a faint sigh, he resigned himself that evening, as the twin suns disappeared over the bloody horizon and he roasted the remains of the dog over pale flames. They'd have to abandon their journey. They'd lasted nearly two days, but sharing just a few waterskins between five very hungry mouths, they'd drained all their water supplies already; he'd failed his first visit.
"There'll be others," Greyhide comforted him as the wolf dug into a roasted hindquarter ravenously. "It wouldn't be much of a worthy challenge if you could do it on your first try... and besides, they might still give you enough rations to last the full period. You never know." The wolf's observations were true. But it didn't heal the pit in his stomach as he stared into the flames and cradled his untouched slab of dogmeat. It wasn't that he couldn't do it, it was that he couldn't even see a way to. How was he supposed to find water in the desert? Even with most of his entourage spread over the area, they hadn't found anything close. Just by himself, dropped in the middle of nowhere for Karem-knew-how-long? What happened if he failed? Would he genuinely be left to die? Xithyria surely wouldn't care about his wellbeing and consider his sacrifice "culling the weak and the incapable".
The gentle flicker of the flames turned the dark, cold air before him into a haze as he peered through it into the night, but he swore he could see something moving in it. Of course it was most likely a trick of the leaping flames, but the more he stared, the more he could feel the chill night staring back at him. Surely not. Nobody else had noticed anything might be amiss. Then again, they were just as distracted as he should have been, by the warmth and light of the fire, the smell and taste of fresh meat. Their eyes never lifted from their feast. How easy would it be for a creature of the wastes to spot their glowing campfire in the distance, or follow the wafting scent of fresh-cooked prey? He'd never considered any of it, but the longer he sat stock-still watching the shapes outside their tent grow longer and wider, the more cold sweat trickled down his spine. Of course, that was supposed to be the other measure of his worth as a knight. Not just surviving with limited resources; surviving against other creatures.
Just as the shape started to form, Greyhide, Cold and Myrth's muzzles all rose in almost perfect harmony. Except there was nothing defensive about their stance. "There's another wolf outside." ANOTHER WHAT?
He was the first to his feet, scrambling from out of the tent with eyes wide and the slab of meat still in his hand, forgotten. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the pitch darkness, but once he'd blinked a couple of times, he could see it, not too far from the campsite now. A single small shape, completely alone; nothing else could possibly hide in such a place as this, no hidden packmates. The closer he stumbled, the smaller it seemed to become... until, by the time he'd dropped to his knees before the little thing, he realised he could probably pick it up in one hand. A puppy. An abandoned wolf pup. It sniffled and howled as he drew close, shaking in the freezing cold, its soft yaps and barks stolen by an errant harsh breeze. Gods, no wonder he'd never heard its approach.
He tucked the meat under one arm and immediately hefted the little pup without any thought, heedless of how it immediately started to struggle and bite at his fingers. The thing wasn't just small, it was weak and malnourished. No surprises there; it might have been the only thing that made any sense at all. "C'mere." What was a wolf pup doing out here? Here, of all the places in the world? Honestly he couldn't fathom, but there wasn't a lot of time to spend figuring it out. It needed warmth, and he didn't hesitate to bring it back to the camp, settling it in his lap as close to the crackling fire as he could get, with his slab of meat offered at once, and the last of his water as well. Once again, it resisted, but the fight drained out quickly. Quicker still when he stroked comfortingly down its back, earning squeaky little barks as it struggled to tear off chunks from the heavy meat slab to fill its tiny muzzle.
"A stray?" Greyhide guessed. Nir agreed; there must be a pack out there somewhere, most definitely close to a clean supply of water, hunting down whatever prey they could find and feeding off the remains of the land. Perhaps they were even migratory... that'd explain why they'd lose one of their own, if they were moving fast without a clear-marked territory to return to. "They can't be far." Perhaps a trial or three out at best when the pup was separated, but then again that could be anywhere up to six or eight trials out by now, even longer depending on the size of the pack and how fast they were willing to move. The good and decent thing to do would be to return it to its pack immediately... but tracking them over that distance, with no supplies... they'd never make it, and besides that, they'd end up too far out into the Stormwastes to make it back to civilized society before succumbing to near-starvation or worse.
It wasn't exactly ideal. Not that he didn't want another wolf. Especially one as lovely as this little guy, who'd already begun to yawn as he curled up on Nir's lap. But he couldn't steal such a thing away from its mother, knowing it was out there, possibly with its entire pack still hunting for it. "Our trip isn't over yet," Nir sighed, stroking a finger between the little wolf's ears. "Tomorrow, we head for the Stormlands, to resupply... and then it's straight back out again."
"That little pipsqueak better be worth it," Archailist grumbled.
"Heh. Pipsqueak, huh?" That sounded rather fitting for a name, actually.
They knew something was following them. The easy solution would be to take Traveller back into the sky and start fresh on this little adventure somewhere further afield... or perhaps turn the tables and hunt down the predator, get a good meal out of it to extend their rations. However, the barren sand held no tracks for long, not even their own, and the howling wind swept all evidence of their presence from the makeshift campfield before it was even out of view. Besides. Their purpose was to test their-- well, to be honest, his-- abilities out in the wild-lands for when he'd take the initiation test. It'd hardly be a fair test if he turned his back at the first sign of danger or hardship. Wasn't like he'd be able to do it in the actual test. Besides, surrounded by no less than three wolves and a Sohr Khal... he didn't fear the creature, whatever it might be. Nope. Not even a little.
That said, he did fear the Stormwastes. Nothing about it felt right. The Stormlands were vast, verdant, plentiful, with meadows and grass and trees. Farms stretched acres upon acres, he'd spotted small villages dotting the land, houses, livestock. It reminded him of the towns and settlements of Rynmere, scattered between dense stretches of forest and meadows on the outskirts of the Duchies, close enough to thrive off its trade and income while still independent enough to provide a quaint sense of homeliness and independence as he rode through them on a rickety wagon, offering waves and pleasantries to the chatty folk working hard in the dirt. They couldn't be more than a day's ride from here. A place so desolate that he hadn't even found a single flower. The largest creatures living here were insects, scurrying under the remains of dead trees and rocks.
Now that he was becoming more accustomed to them, he referred back to his supernatural senses of prey and survival frequently and found them both lacking severely. No actual animals populated the land, and if they did, none of them were prey. Materials were few and far between, no trees, no leaves, not even enough dead remains of blasted tree-husks to make his own shelter from, and the sand was everywhere, filling in all the caves and holes, sucking in all the rocks on the surface like an ever-ravenous maw. How was he supposed to make a campfire? Build a shelter? Find, hunt, cook his food or worse still, harvest water? Was he even expected to, would they provide him with all those things? Surely not, or it wouldn't be much of a survival challenge, more of a waiting game. Soon he realised that he'd made a terrible mistake by bringing along such an entourage. It was great for protection, but they were all feeling hungry... and if he'd had one hungry mouth to feed, it wouldn't be too terrible, but he had five.
The benefit was, they could split up. Myrth and Greyhide went north and south respectively, Traveller took to the skies and chose a direction of his choosing, and Nir'wei stayed behind with Cold to make something of a shelter and organise their things. The air was dry and the sun beat down from overhead, but the cold climate was the real killer, bringing frosty chills across the land and making Nir'wei quickly wish he'd brought warmer clothes. Instead, he wrapped a spare shirt around his shoulders and tied it tight just under his nose with the sleeves tucked inside to make a windbreaker, the bottom folded up over his head to cover it from the sun and protect his mouth and nose from the dust and sand drifting in the strong wind currents. Other excess clothes from Traveller's shed travel packs were worn double over his first pair to retain as much body heat as possible.
The rest of their packs and gear were pressed into a crevice between the two large stones that would serve as their chief defense against the elements. A bold shoulder of rust-red rock sticking out of the sand like a broken tooth. It didn't offer any overhead protection but the warmth of the sun was a much-needed respite at the moment; what they really needed was an escape from the chilling wind that howled across the region day and night. With their gear stored to protect against predators stealing it away during the night, he strung the canvas of the tent into a tight wedge, one corner pinned against the rock with an iron nail and the other three arranged around the base of the rock, leaving enough room for both the bedroll and their fire, which he again ringed with a small collection of stones to stop harsh winds from toppling the small cone of neatly-arranged sticks and burning them all to death in their sleep.
After that, one by one, the animals returned. Traveller was the first, being the fastest and able to pick out the most direct route. The beast he carried in his grip wasn't something Nir was familiar with; it looked oddly canine, but there were far too many alien and unusual features spread over its body to determine anything more than that. Still, he worked with what he had, producing a hunting knife and skinning its thick hide, quartering the tough meat while the other two wolves returned, each with small offerings of their own; a sickly-looking hare with more bones than meat, and a rat. From the sound of it, neither had found any sources of water. Figured. With no living trees, no actual dirt to dig in and nothing short of a miracle to make it rain, they'd barely last another trial before running out, and after that, they really wouldn't have any other option but to abandon their journey. Food they could find, shelter they could make, but without a source of water...
With a faint sigh, he resigned himself that evening, as the twin suns disappeared over the bloody horizon and he roasted the remains of the dog over pale flames. They'd have to abandon their journey. They'd lasted nearly two days, but sharing just a few waterskins between five very hungry mouths, they'd drained all their water supplies already; he'd failed his first visit.
"There'll be others," Greyhide comforted him as the wolf dug into a roasted hindquarter ravenously. "It wouldn't be much of a worthy challenge if you could do it on your first try... and besides, they might still give you enough rations to last the full period. You never know." The wolf's observations were true. But it didn't heal the pit in his stomach as he stared into the flames and cradled his untouched slab of dogmeat. It wasn't that he couldn't do it, it was that he couldn't even see a way to. How was he supposed to find water in the desert? Even with most of his entourage spread over the area, they hadn't found anything close. Just by himself, dropped in the middle of nowhere for Karem-knew-how-long? What happened if he failed? Would he genuinely be left to die? Xithyria surely wouldn't care about his wellbeing and consider his sacrifice "culling the weak and the incapable".
The gentle flicker of the flames turned the dark, cold air before him into a haze as he peered through it into the night, but he swore he could see something moving in it. Of course it was most likely a trick of the leaping flames, but the more he stared, the more he could feel the chill night staring back at him. Surely not. Nobody else had noticed anything might be amiss. Then again, they were just as distracted as he should have been, by the warmth and light of the fire, the smell and taste of fresh meat. Their eyes never lifted from their feast. How easy would it be for a creature of the wastes to spot their glowing campfire in the distance, or follow the wafting scent of fresh-cooked prey? He'd never considered any of it, but the longer he sat stock-still watching the shapes outside their tent grow longer and wider, the more cold sweat trickled down his spine. Of course, that was supposed to be the other measure of his worth as a knight. Not just surviving with limited resources; surviving against other creatures.
Just as the shape started to form, Greyhide, Cold and Myrth's muzzles all rose in almost perfect harmony. Except there was nothing defensive about their stance. "There's another wolf outside." ANOTHER WHAT?
He was the first to his feet, scrambling from out of the tent with eyes wide and the slab of meat still in his hand, forgotten. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the pitch darkness, but once he'd blinked a couple of times, he could see it, not too far from the campsite now. A single small shape, completely alone; nothing else could possibly hide in such a place as this, no hidden packmates. The closer he stumbled, the smaller it seemed to become... until, by the time he'd dropped to his knees before the little thing, he realised he could probably pick it up in one hand. A puppy. An abandoned wolf pup. It sniffled and howled as he drew close, shaking in the freezing cold, its soft yaps and barks stolen by an errant harsh breeze. Gods, no wonder he'd never heard its approach.
He tucked the meat under one arm and immediately hefted the little pup without any thought, heedless of how it immediately started to struggle and bite at his fingers. The thing wasn't just small, it was weak and malnourished. No surprises there; it might have been the only thing that made any sense at all. "C'mere." What was a wolf pup doing out here? Here, of all the places in the world? Honestly he couldn't fathom, but there wasn't a lot of time to spend figuring it out. It needed warmth, and he didn't hesitate to bring it back to the camp, settling it in his lap as close to the crackling fire as he could get, with his slab of meat offered at once, and the last of his water as well. Once again, it resisted, but the fight drained out quickly. Quicker still when he stroked comfortingly down its back, earning squeaky little barks as it struggled to tear off chunks from the heavy meat slab to fill its tiny muzzle.
"A stray?" Greyhide guessed. Nir agreed; there must be a pack out there somewhere, most definitely close to a clean supply of water, hunting down whatever prey they could find and feeding off the remains of the land. Perhaps they were even migratory... that'd explain why they'd lose one of their own, if they were moving fast without a clear-marked territory to return to. "They can't be far." Perhaps a trial or three out at best when the pup was separated, but then again that could be anywhere up to six or eight trials out by now, even longer depending on the size of the pack and how fast they were willing to move. The good and decent thing to do would be to return it to its pack immediately... but tracking them over that distance, with no supplies... they'd never make it, and besides that, they'd end up too far out into the Stormwastes to make it back to civilized society before succumbing to near-starvation or worse.
It wasn't exactly ideal. Not that he didn't want another wolf. Especially one as lovely as this little guy, who'd already begun to yawn as he curled up on Nir's lap. But he couldn't steal such a thing away from its mother, knowing it was out there, possibly with its entire pack still hunting for it. "Our trip isn't over yet," Nir sighed, stroking a finger between the little wolf's ears. "Tomorrow, we head for the Stormlands, to resupply... and then it's straight back out again."
"That little pipsqueak better be worth it," Archailist grumbled.
"Heh. Pipsqueak, huh?" That sounded rather fitting for a name, actually.
