Sparky
Registered User
Rainca crouches near the campfire and nods at the half-elven woman’s request. “Yes. Rainca thinks this is a good idea.” She rocks back onto her heels, eyes glinting in the firelight. “Who would you pick to go hunting with you?”
Rainca spends the better part of the time the group travels teaching able-bodied Hoar Suns to stalk and track. Teaching them how to track and stalk and use the whistle calls and hand signs of the Barav Kree. One young lad, Alan, just doesn’t get it. As the lessons move on and the others learn swiftly and well he struggles. Rainca watches him warily as he broods on the fringes of the lessons.
He has come only recently to his height. She remembers one the hunters of her village, Morik. The young children called him Moontoucher. He was head and shoulders taller anyone in seven camps. He had failed the Rites of the Stag again and again. The barbarian woman touches a raised scar on her forearm, remembering…
Rainca blinks and finds herself tense, hand covering the nasty scar on her arm. She smiles at Alan, “Rainca knew a young warrior like Alan once. He was tall and, at first, could not sneak up on his aged grandmother.” She laughs, specters of the distant memory passing. “He too eventually learned to listen to the wind and the mutterings of the earth and her children. And so will you as the moons come and go.” She smiles at Alan and claps him on the shoulder, rather more roughly than expected.
“Come, Alan Moontoucher. Follow Rainca, and walk as she walks. Breathe as she breathes. And think of nothing but the wind, the earth and her children.”
****
Rainca returns from a day of teaching with the gaggle of Hoar Suns from a day of teaching, with little but scratches and grins. She stands and spreads her arms at the sight of Diane and the other, more seasoned Hoar Sun hunters, returning with some success. She hoists a rough, dirty bag of roots and leaves.
“Between us we’ll have that stew. And Rainca will happily teach you what she knows of hunting larger game, but Sister Rabbit is Rainca’s favorite stew meat!” She looks at Diane, “Come let us sing for the swift return of Sister Rabbit’s soul as we prepare her.”
She sings as she works, humming a rapid droning tune, soon her rabbit is skinned, gutted and boned. She holds her bloody knife out to another Hoar Sun, “There are two more. All share in the preparation.”
****
“Rurik Demonbane,” Rainca calls across the campfire, wiping stew from her mouth with one of the many sashes at her waist, “Rainca would like to see the buk you keep.” She gestures at the pouch he keeps his weapon journal. She sits down next to the dwarf and looks on as he pages through his sketches and copious notes. She touches a page, rubbing it between a rough thumb and forefinger. “So thin,” she raises her pale gray eyes to Rurik’s, “and these symbols,” she points at Rurik’s notes around the sketches, “These symbols are writing?” The word sounds untried and strange in her mouth.
****
The next day she takes the bulk of the Hoar Suns the long way around the small town. She hands a small sack of coin to Eusebius, “Rainca would like some of these rations. Would you purchase some for Rainca?” She counts on her fingers and looks at the Hoar Suns, “Enough so that everyone may fill their bellies when our hunting is not successful.” There is more than enough coin in the pouch for the purchase.
****
She meets up with the rest of the crew after a day of drilling the Hoar Suns. She nods at the others, proudly holding up a young stag, “These Hoar Suns are learning swiftly.” She smiles at Diane, “Andrew will be pleased.”
To the others, “Rainca will follow Rurik, she has heard of the remarkable vision of the Chenn’im.” She nods to Rurik and holds a cautioning hand out to the Artax, “Wait Artax, predators fear fire, not light…” she looks at Rurik, “And from the legends Rainca knows about the Chenn’im, the gift of their vision does not work in less than darkness. Rainca thinks Brother Eusebius has the right of it, she would like her hands free."
She peers into the growing dim and addresses the Hoar Suns, "Let us form a pack. The same as Rainca showed earlier, stronger warriors to the edges of the group." Rainca nods at Rurik and the other non-Hoar Suns, clearly considering them amongst the stronger warriors, and takes up a position in the rear, eyes sharp, an arrow nocked and ready.
Rainca spends the better part of the time the group travels teaching able-bodied Hoar Suns to stalk and track. Teaching them how to track and stalk and use the whistle calls and hand signs of the Barav Kree. One young lad, Alan, just doesn’t get it. As the lessons move on and the others learn swiftly and well he struggles. Rainca watches him warily as he broods on the fringes of the lessons.
He has come only recently to his height. She remembers one the hunters of her village, Morik. The young children called him Moontoucher. He was head and shoulders taller anyone in seven camps. He had failed the Rites of the Stag again and again. The barbarian woman touches a raised scar on her forearm, remembering…
Morik, Rainca and others gathered at the feet of the Bukun’e. His wizened face split in a wide grin as he shook the rattles that would call the tribe’s adult hunters to witness them off on their Rite. Rainca’s belly clenched as she heard their ululating approach, as she smelled the fires they burned. She could not have imagined what the next days would bring…
Rainca blinks and finds herself tense, hand covering the nasty scar on her arm. She smiles at Alan, “Rainca knew a young warrior like Alan once. He was tall and, at first, could not sneak up on his aged grandmother.” She laughs, specters of the distant memory passing. “He too eventually learned to listen to the wind and the mutterings of the earth and her children. And so will you as the moons come and go.” She smiles at Alan and claps him on the shoulder, rather more roughly than expected.
“Come, Alan Moontoucher. Follow Rainca, and walk as she walks. Breathe as she breathes. And think of nothing but the wind, the earth and her children.”
****
Rainca returns from a day of teaching with the gaggle of Hoar Suns from a day of teaching, with little but scratches and grins. She stands and spreads her arms at the sight of Diane and the other, more seasoned Hoar Sun hunters, returning with some success. She hoists a rough, dirty bag of roots and leaves.
“Between us we’ll have that stew. And Rainca will happily teach you what she knows of hunting larger game, but Sister Rabbit is Rainca’s favorite stew meat!” She looks at Diane, “Come let us sing for the swift return of Sister Rabbit’s soul as we prepare her.”
She sings as she works, humming a rapid droning tune, soon her rabbit is skinned, gutted and boned. She holds her bloody knife out to another Hoar Sun, “There are two more. All share in the preparation.”
****
“Rurik Demonbane,” Rainca calls across the campfire, wiping stew from her mouth with one of the many sashes at her waist, “Rainca would like to see the buk you keep.” She gestures at the pouch he keeps his weapon journal. She sits down next to the dwarf and looks on as he pages through his sketches and copious notes. She touches a page, rubbing it between a rough thumb and forefinger. “So thin,” she raises her pale gray eyes to Rurik’s, “and these symbols,” she points at Rurik’s notes around the sketches, “These symbols are writing?” The word sounds untried and strange in her mouth.
****
The next day she takes the bulk of the Hoar Suns the long way around the small town. She hands a small sack of coin to Eusebius, “Rainca would like some of these rations. Would you purchase some for Rainca?” She counts on her fingers and looks at the Hoar Suns, “Enough so that everyone may fill their bellies when our hunting is not successful.” There is more than enough coin in the pouch for the purchase.
****
She meets up with the rest of the crew after a day of drilling the Hoar Suns. She nods at the others, proudly holding up a young stag, “These Hoar Suns are learning swiftly.” She smiles at Diane, “Andrew will be pleased.”
To the others, “Rainca will follow Rurik, she has heard of the remarkable vision of the Chenn’im.” She nods to Rurik and holds a cautioning hand out to the Artax, “Wait Artax, predators fear fire, not light…” she looks at Rurik, “And from the legends Rainca knows about the Chenn’im, the gift of their vision does not work in less than darkness. Rainca thinks Brother Eusebius has the right of it, she would like her hands free."
She peers into the growing dim and addresses the Hoar Suns, "Let us form a pack. The same as Rainca showed earlier, stronger warriors to the edges of the group." Rainca nods at Rurik and the other non-Hoar Suns, clearly considering them amongst the stronger warriors, and takes up a position in the rear, eyes sharp, an arrow nocked and ready.
)
