Alone, uncomfortable, and Wandering

[LongLost]

For the last few days the weather had been relatively mild, thank the Light, or else the simple bedroll Miles had would have done next to nothing to shield him from the elements. Still though, without a proper shelter, the icy morning dew had given him quite a few chills. After trekking mindlessly west-northwest for what seemed like ages, Miles decided finally to take a day off and give his aching muscles a much needed respite. He walked for about 2 hours or so until he found a suitable tree, with lush grass underfoot. Hanging his over-sized pack from a low-hanging branch, he rummaged through it and pulled out a book at random. This book must have been quite old, and surprisingly (for his father's collection) relatively unloved, as it's leather cover was cracked and peeling. There was no title on the cover, just the House of Delling's crest in crumbled gold. He opened the book and drowsily leafed through the first couple pages before realizing it was a collection of family journals.

 

As he read boring stories of surprisingly good hunts, births, death's marriages, and family feuds, he slowly fell asleep. In his dream he was still reading the book when a tiny wolf pup ran into the clearing and stopped suddenly, as if surprised to see him. They exchanged glances as the pup sniffed at him from afar. All of a sudden the pup made a joyful leap into the air and seemed to skip up to him and spoke, "Two come for you, Thirdeye."

Puzzled Miles responded, "Two what...and what did you call me?"

"Two of you, come soon. Thirdeye, your ..." It was then that Miles was woken by his pack landing on his head as the branch it hung from snapped like tinder. The confused and no long drowsy young man shook his head, gathered his things back together, "enjoyed" a rock-hard roll and began walking again. Making his miniature camp each night had become habit at this point, and he repeated the ritual this evening under some low-hanging branches, which should offer some form of shelter for him, if not much.

[WhiteWolf]

    Here we go again, just when i thought we could relax and spend some time in the Stedding we get a report that a Wanderer has appeared to the south and as usual all the Trackers are busy elsewhere

    Owen felt like he had been running from one place to another without a break. He did not really mind, but he had hoped to have some time to explore the unexpected turn of events with Rhya. Her admission to him had taken him totally by surprise, but not as much as his reaction. After losing Iris he had sworn he would never again become involved with another female, there was just too much pain involved. Obviously, though, his subconscious had not agreed with him and he had fallen just as hard for her, as he had for Iris, if not harder.

    Shaking his head at this unexpected turn of events, Owen glanced over at Rhya who was riding besides him, enjoying the open countryside and the chance to be away from the Stedding. Letting his gaze slide away from Rhya, Owen scanned the countryside, letting his senses voyage out, hoping to detect nothing more threatening than the local wildlife and for once he was rewarded by sensing no immediate threats.

    He could sense Ice and Shadow ranging ahead of them, scouting out their trail and making sure there were no unpleasant surprises. Whenever a Wanderer appeared it was imperative to reach them as soon as they could. The Howling was a time fraught with danger, not just from two-legs who let their prejudices get the better of them. The Howling itself could provide enough sensory overload that a Wanderer could easily become consumed by their blossoming new senses. Or the sudden mental invasion of the Wolves could drive a Wanderer to madness, so encompassing could this madness be that they lost all of their humanity and become more wolf than human. Owen had seen this happen before and knew that speed was what they needed whenever they go the call.

    Almost without conscious intent, Owen increased their pace; they had to find this new Wanderer as soon as they could. The Wolves called him Thirdeye and that was the only name he and Rhya had to go on. Long into the night they rode until Rhya was swaying in her saddle from exhaustion and the horse’s heads were dropping. Eventually Owen called a halt and they set up a hasty camp, Owen preparing the shelters while Rhya took care of their meal. “How long do you think it i will take to find Thirdeye Owen?”

    “It is hard to say Rhya; we could find him tomorrow, or in a few days time. Wanderers have a habit of wandering.” Rhya, tiredly, shook her head at Owen’s attempt at humour.

 

Owen

 

The WhiteWolf

 

Ranger Leader

 

[Taymist]

Rhya uncurled herself leisurely, waking to the pale light of pre dawn. She rolled reluctantly away from the protective curve of Owen’s arm and stretched, groaning faintly at the resistance her limbs showed to any kind of movement. It had been some time since she’d last spent all day on horseback and already the familiar aching from unaccustomed physical exertion could be felt in her calf and thigh muscles despite a good night’s sleep. She knew that would ease off over the remainder of the journey as her body adjusted but made a mental note to not leave it so long in future.

 

In truth, Rhya was enjoying being out of the Stedding once more. It gave her a sense of freedom that she felt was distinctly lacking in recent times. She appreciated the need for safeguards, for common sense, not just for herself but all those who lived with the ‘kin. That didn’t make it any more palatable. It would never matter where home was if it didn’t come with an attendant freedom to come and go at will and she found herself chafing at the perfectly reasonable restrictions placed on those who had not completed their training.

 

Of course, Owen was well aware of that fact, which was precisely why she was here with him now, seeking a Wanderer. After her escapade with Rahien, she hadn’t expected to be allowed to set foot outside for some time and so, was determined to make the most of every second of the trip.

 

She busied herself making up a hasty breakfast, wondering as she did so what this Wanderer would be like. The name the wolves had supplied them with was an unusual one and for now, the only information they had.

 

Will he be pleased to see us or ready to run? Open to believing in the ‘kin or dismissive and sceptical? I wonder if… the thought cut off abruptly as an amused voice spoke into her ear.

 

“Either you think I need fattened up or there more than just two of us for breakfast!”

 

She laughed as she surveyed the amount of food she’d prepared having been too busy with her own thoughts to pay attention to the task at hand, and reached an arm up behind her, tugging Owen’s head down for a warm, if brief, kiss. “A few extra pounds wouldn’t do you any harm at all and a good morning to you too.”

 

Hastily, she stashed some of the food safely in the saddlebags. It would keep well enough for the moment and save some cooking later. “What direction are we heading this morning? We should cover a fair distance today if this weather holds.” She scanned the sky, hopeful that the slight wind would keep the rain and snow clouds away.

 

[LongLost]

Miles squinted against the intense sunlight that somehow filtered through the trees, how he didn't know. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, just looking to decide which deer trail to take further into wherever he was. He jumped, startled nearly to his wits end when he heard a bird begin to sing from what seemed like the tree to his left, but when he looked he saw that it was quite a ways away. The bright red bird must have felt Miles' awkward gaze pass over him, because he instantly took off and flew deeper into the trees.

The sensory overload was going to be the end of him, Miles knew. He couldn't handle all the constant stimuli he was so unaccustomed to. He'd be jolted out of the mind-boggling that afforded him at least some semblance of rest at the most minute fragment of sunlight, or a frog croaking, or any number of other things. And then there was the food. He still had plenty of it left, because he could barely stomach it. The bread was too dry, the jerkey too...ruined. That dried sickly "piece" of meat was almost an affront to his over-abundant senses, to call it food was just foolish.

But far and above all the other annoyances and hardships, was of course the fact that he had no cursed idea where he was going! "North, or West Miles?" He'd often ask himself as if it mattered. Directions didn't exist when they weren't pointing you to a destination.

He kept walking and examing the trees and shrubs he passed for the rest of the afternoon and made an much-too-early camp on a low rise that was mostly devoid of trees, just for a change of evening scenery. He sat with what must have been the smallest cookfire in known existence and made a thin soup out of the "meat" he had and some random shrubs that smelled reminiscent of his father's kitchen.

Eating his meager meal, and grateful that the sun was beginning to set, and so might the throbbing in his head, he waited for something as yet unknown.

[WhiteWolf]

  “What direction are we heading this morning? We should cover a fair distance today if this weather holds.”

    Rhya’s words came back to haunt them later that morning, the wind had slackened and the clouds had piled up, large and threatening, and then the rain had begun. It had started as large fat drops, falling with a deceiving slowness, but soon building up into a steady, persistent, precipitation. Thankfully Owen had insisted they pack their heavy cloaks, and now both he and Rhya were swathed from head to toe in their cloaks. From a distance they looked like two large sacks sat on their horses, but the cloaks worked and kept the worst of the weather off of them.

    Before they had set out that morning, and while Rhya had made sure there were no signs of their campsite, Owen had spoken to the wolves shadowing Thirdeye and had gained a better idea of where the Wanderer was. It was never easy interpreting directions from the wolves, even for someone with Owen’s experience, but after some thought Owen was able to discern the direction they needed to travel in and before he broke the connection with the wolves Owen thanked them for their help and assured them they would arrive as soon as humanly possible.

    Owen set a fast pace, despite the heavy rain, and the two of them managed to cover a good deal of ground. Usually Owen would have been more circumspect in the way he travelled through the lands, but he had decided that haste was more important this time than caution. Even so, he did not let his guard drop, and made sure he scanned the land around them at every opportunity. The heavy rain would help keep them shrouded from any unwanted observation, and should keep them safe from any but the most desperate of travellers.

    That night it was a cheerless camp that Owen and Rhya made. Even with all of Owen’s skills it had been impossible to get a fire started, the wood they had found was just too wet to catch alight. So after a cold meal, Owen and Rhya had curled up together, sharing their body’s warmth in an attempt to keep warm. Their sleep was fitful though, largely due to the cold Northerly wind that started about midnight and continued all the way through the night.

    Owen and Rhya were on their way early the next day, and still the wind and rain persisted. However, Owen’s spirits had lifted and so had Rhya’s. She had sensed the change in Owen and this gave her renewed confidence and determination.

    Later that morning, the wind had become more of a breeze than a gale, but still the rain persisted, and the grey overcast showed no signs of relenting, which could only mean the rain was going to continue throughout the rest of the day.  It was late in the afternoon that Owen called a halt to their journey and dismounted from his horse.

    “We are close Rhya, Thirdeye should be about a mile in that direction. Owen pointed to where he thought their Wanderer would be but did not continue speaking instead his gaze roved around the land as far as they could see. “What is it Owen?”

    “I am thinking it would be better if you approached this Wanderer and brought him back here. I will keep an eye on you as much as possible, and both Ice and Shadow will accompany you and keep you safe. Bring our new friend back here, but explain to him before you return what i look like.” At this Rhya raised an eyebrow at Owen. Although she could see past the obvious with Owen, sometimes others could not and would act accordingly and either run away or immediately see him as a threat and challenge him. “I will get a fire going and start making a hot meal for the three of us. Take your time, and use your experience of your own Howling to guide you.” They briefly hugged and Owen sent her on her way. “Don’t worry, you can do this Rhya, even if you do not believe you can, now be off with you.” Owen playfully swatted Rhya on the backside and then burst out laughing at the look of indignation on her face.

    As soon as Rhya was out of sight Owen started to prepare their camp site. They would be spending the night here and he was determined to get a fire started and have some warm food prepared for when Rhya returned.

Owen

 

The WhiteWolf

 

Ranger Leader

 

[Taymist]

It wasn’t difficult to find Thirdeye. The images being relayed to Rhya were unusually precise and she gathered that he’d settled in a favourite place of theirs. She approached the spot openly, not wishing to startle him and making just enough noise to warn him that someone was coming.

 

The long sodden grass had soon soaked through her trousers, plastering the material to her legs and Rhya was glad yet again of her long Ranger cloak and its thick warmth which minimised the worst of the weather’s ravages. She thanked the Light that the wind had subsided sufficiently that her first conversation with the Wanderer wouldn’t have to be screamed at top volume over a howling gale.

 

The impact of tangled emotions hit Rhya like a brick wall as she reached the top of a slight incline and she stumbled, hastily slamming up shields to the best of her ability. She could still smell the dying embers of a fire and feel the man’s torment as she moved closer but it had abated enough for her to cope with the sudden barrage and, rounding a copse of trees, she finally spotted him, prowling restlessly back and forth in agitation. Despite her efforts not to scare him, it looked as though he had been too busy arguing with himself to hear her footsteps.

 

“Thirdeye?” she queried calmly and clearly. “I am Rhya. A friend.” She held her hands open by her sides, indicating a lack of any hostile intent. “I have come, at the request of the wolves, to take you to a safe place… if you wish. There is no need to run, I will not harm you.”

 

Rhya stood quite still. The next move was his and the response he made would determine how she proceeded. The face that swung towards her was dominated by a pair of wild looking golden eyes, the features suggesting that it had once been accustomed to laughter… a laughter that was now all too absent. He was well into his Howling, that much was clear and she wondered what the next few minutes would bring.

 

His gaze swung downwards, the golden eyes widening a little, just as Rhya felt a pressure against her leg.

 

Your timing is, as ever, impeccable, Shadow, she thought to the wolf in amusement.