Post by Ghost of Fire (Fëanáro) on Jul 15, 2011 23:05:17 GMT -8
The red light of the setting sun made the snow look like a gold and pink field. A figure, tall enough to be a short adult and yet clearly a child, glanced around from where he stood on the back of a swiftly moving light sled and with a call of “Whoa!” pulled up on a lever and brought the sled to a halt, for the canine that was pulling it had stopped the instant the word left the boy’s mouth. Tamaruk shook his head, the movement heavy with the exhaustion of travel. He bushed a piece of his black hair, which had fallen out of his fur-lined hat, away from his eyes. They were traveling too far to the north, Ice Stone Weyr, their end goal, was now probably almost due east of them. To an observer, had there been any, and had they known Tamaruk’s thoughts, it would have seemed odd that he thought “they” had traveled too far, for in truth there were only the three creatures near the sled, Tamaruk, the night-sky black sled canine Sinok, and Guyaky the Aurora flitt who was hidden within Tamaruk’s jacket. But the fact was that the canine and flitt were the only two friends that Tamaruk had ever had. He had no real hope that life would be any better at the Weyr, but maybe, maybe, he would be able to find a place where his day did not start with blows and no breakfast.
Sinok glanced back, his puzzlement at the pause, so far from shelter as was different from the normal routine, clear on his canine face. The look recalled Tamaruk to the fact that it would be dark soon, and he sent Sinok loping off once more, angling around so that they would soon be heading east. A slight breeze picked up and Tamaruk shivered violently. For all that he was wearing fur-lined garments, they were thin and old. He debated setting up shelter for the night, carving a out a cave in the snow, but the snow where they were was too soft for such a venture. The cold was getting to him, slowing his motions and his thoughts. He knew the dangers, anyone raised in the north did, but despite that, he found himself nodding, and then there was nothing at all.
“…found him out in the snow.” The voice was male, deep, and unfamiliar. It took Tamaruk several seconds to realize why he didn’t know the speaker, then he held himself very still, so that he seemed to still be unaware of those around him. It was a trick he’d learned long before, and had oft had occasion to practice, so he was rather good at it. There was a pause, and then the speaker continued: “Might not have, if it weren’t for the canine barking at us when we got close.” A pause, then, “where is the canine, anyway?”
“We had to move it to another room, it wouldn’t let anyone near the boy.” This was spoken by another person, a woman, one who gave a lot of orders by her tone. Tamaruk would have made some sound then, possibly a protest, but he had schooled himself well and it died long before nearing his lips. The woman said something else, too quietly for Tamaruk to hear, and then there were hands on his jacket, undoing the lacings. He tensed: he knew, or thought he did anyway, what was coming next. He felt Guyaky’s body vanish from under his jacket and felt a shadow of relief that the flitt would not come to harm. That shadow-relief was just enough that, despite his tension at the anticipation of a beating, he slid back down into darkness, falling away from the world.
Some unknown amount of time later, Tamaruk came back to consciousness. He could hear something moving around. For a short second there was nothing, then a wet tongue was applied to his nose and eyes with judicious skill. Without thinking about it, he pushed up towards where the canine's chest ought to have been, only to hit empty air.
Startled, he opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was Sinok, black tail wagging slowly in greeting. However, Sinok's head was held up, and was still only just level with Tamaruk's face, which, as Tamaruk was laying down, should not have been the case. Tamaruk glanced down at the surface underneath him, then shifted back. He was on a cot, like, a real cot, with furs that looked like those specifically designed for sleeping rather than just extra sets of worn out clothes.
"Your canine is certainly glad to see you."
Tamaruk froze. The voice was unknown, the tone unfamiliar, at least when he was the one being addressed. It was a tone of polite conversation. The speaker, Tamaruk ascertained with a lighting fast flick of his eyes in her direction, was a woman, no, lady, Tamaruk corrected himself, perhaps in her late teens or early twenties with the same blond hair and light eyes of the adults at the Hold.
Tamaruk was abruptly certain that this must be her cot that he was in, and he immediately pushed himself upright, getting tangled up in the furs in his attempt to remove himself from the cot.
"No, no, you're not supposed to get up this soon," the lady said, "lay back down, boy."
Tamaruk growled. "My name is Tamaruk!" he snarled, but he was already cautiously laying down, his legs curled tight to his chest and his arms near his head, as though ready to shield against a blow.
The room was silent for a handful of seconds, while Tamaruk lay curled, refusing to even glance in the lady's direction, and the lady watched him in surprise, taken aback by the extreme swing of his reaction. Then the lady took a hesitant step towards Tamaruk.
The sound of the lady's faint footstep seemed to echo in the silent room, and Tamaruk hunched his shoulders, pulling them up until they were level with his earlobes. His breath was coming in quick, though silent, gasps, and his muscles were quivering so hard with fear that his entire body shook.
Sinok whined, nosing Tamaruk's face. Tamaruk's hands closed convulsively on the big canine's rough and thick shoulder fur as the woman took another cautious step towards him. Sinok pulled his head away from Tamaruk and growled a warning.
"Well, that saves me the trouble of asking you for your name, Tamaruk," the lady said. Her tone was still light, even friendly, though she was sore puzzled by the boy's fearful response to her approach. "I'm Ayasha, by the way, I'm one of the journeywoman healers here at Ice Stone Weyr."
Ayasha waited a beat. She noted with satisfaction that the young boy, he couldn't have been more than 11 turns despite his height, was no longer shaking, though he didn't respond to her voice other than that. With a mental sigh, she continued: "You were nearly frozen to death when you were brought here, no more than a two hours ago. Your body needs to rest after that kind of ordeal." She noticed how Tamaruk was clinging to the canine, and added: "If you want, you can invite your canine onto the cot with you, Tamaruk. It's a double-wide, there's more than enough room."
Startled, Tamaruk gaped at the lady for a second. "No one will mind, Lady Ayasha?" he asked. Then, shocked at his own daring, he quickly stared at the floor again.
"I'm no lady, just Ayasha," Ayasha answered, "and of course no one will mind. Tell you what, Tamaruk, if anyone objects, tell them to take it up with me."
Moving almost as though in a dream, Tamaruk patted the cot. "Sinok, up," he said.
Sinok jumped up, and was soon curled up with Tamaruk, whose eyes drifted closed as Ayasha slipped out of his range of vision. Emboldened, Guyaky cautiously glided down and settled, half on Sinok's fury back and half on His's head.
Ayasha had to smile at the three occupants of the cot. The scene would, she thought, make a good painting. If only someone with any real talent at that skill was there with her to see it.
Sinok glanced back, his puzzlement at the pause, so far from shelter as was different from the normal routine, clear on his canine face. The look recalled Tamaruk to the fact that it would be dark soon, and he sent Sinok loping off once more, angling around so that they would soon be heading east. A slight breeze picked up and Tamaruk shivered violently. For all that he was wearing fur-lined garments, they were thin and old. He debated setting up shelter for the night, carving a out a cave in the snow, but the snow where they were was too soft for such a venture. The cold was getting to him, slowing his motions and his thoughts. He knew the dangers, anyone raised in the north did, but despite that, he found himself nodding, and then there was nothing at all.
“…found him out in the snow.” The voice was male, deep, and unfamiliar. It took Tamaruk several seconds to realize why he didn’t know the speaker, then he held himself very still, so that he seemed to still be unaware of those around him. It was a trick he’d learned long before, and had oft had occasion to practice, so he was rather good at it. There was a pause, and then the speaker continued: “Might not have, if it weren’t for the canine barking at us when we got close.” A pause, then, “where is the canine, anyway?”
“We had to move it to another room, it wouldn’t let anyone near the boy.” This was spoken by another person, a woman, one who gave a lot of orders by her tone. Tamaruk would have made some sound then, possibly a protest, but he had schooled himself well and it died long before nearing his lips. The woman said something else, too quietly for Tamaruk to hear, and then there were hands on his jacket, undoing the lacings. He tensed: he knew, or thought he did anyway, what was coming next. He felt Guyaky’s body vanish from under his jacket and felt a shadow of relief that the flitt would not come to harm. That shadow-relief was just enough that, despite his tension at the anticipation of a beating, he slid back down into darkness, falling away from the world.
Some unknown amount of time later, Tamaruk came back to consciousness. He could hear something moving around. For a short second there was nothing, then a wet tongue was applied to his nose and eyes with judicious skill. Without thinking about it, he pushed up towards where the canine's chest ought to have been, only to hit empty air.
Startled, he opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was Sinok, black tail wagging slowly in greeting. However, Sinok's head was held up, and was still only just level with Tamaruk's face, which, as Tamaruk was laying down, should not have been the case. Tamaruk glanced down at the surface underneath him, then shifted back. He was on a cot, like, a real cot, with furs that looked like those specifically designed for sleeping rather than just extra sets of worn out clothes.
"Your canine is certainly glad to see you."
Tamaruk froze. The voice was unknown, the tone unfamiliar, at least when he was the one being addressed. It was a tone of polite conversation. The speaker, Tamaruk ascertained with a lighting fast flick of his eyes in her direction, was a woman, no, lady, Tamaruk corrected himself, perhaps in her late teens or early twenties with the same blond hair and light eyes of the adults at the Hold.
Tamaruk was abruptly certain that this must be her cot that he was in, and he immediately pushed himself upright, getting tangled up in the furs in his attempt to remove himself from the cot.
"No, no, you're not supposed to get up this soon," the lady said, "lay back down, boy."
Tamaruk growled. "My name is Tamaruk!" he snarled, but he was already cautiously laying down, his legs curled tight to his chest and his arms near his head, as though ready to shield against a blow.
The room was silent for a handful of seconds, while Tamaruk lay curled, refusing to even glance in the lady's direction, and the lady watched him in surprise, taken aback by the extreme swing of his reaction. Then the lady took a hesitant step towards Tamaruk.
The sound of the lady's faint footstep seemed to echo in the silent room, and Tamaruk hunched his shoulders, pulling them up until they were level with his earlobes. His breath was coming in quick, though silent, gasps, and his muscles were quivering so hard with fear that his entire body shook.
Sinok whined, nosing Tamaruk's face. Tamaruk's hands closed convulsively on the big canine's rough and thick shoulder fur as the woman took another cautious step towards him. Sinok pulled his head away from Tamaruk and growled a warning.
"Well, that saves me the trouble of asking you for your name, Tamaruk," the lady said. Her tone was still light, even friendly, though she was sore puzzled by the boy's fearful response to her approach. "I'm Ayasha, by the way, I'm one of the journeywoman healers here at Ice Stone Weyr."
Ayasha waited a beat. She noted with satisfaction that the young boy, he couldn't have been more than 11 turns despite his height, was no longer shaking, though he didn't respond to her voice other than that. With a mental sigh, she continued: "You were nearly frozen to death when you were brought here, no more than a two hours ago. Your body needs to rest after that kind of ordeal." She noticed how Tamaruk was clinging to the canine, and added: "If you want, you can invite your canine onto the cot with you, Tamaruk. It's a double-wide, there's more than enough room."
Startled, Tamaruk gaped at the lady for a second. "No one will mind, Lady Ayasha?" he asked. Then, shocked at his own daring, he quickly stared at the floor again.
"I'm no lady, just Ayasha," Ayasha answered, "and of course no one will mind. Tell you what, Tamaruk, if anyone objects, tell them to take it up with me."
Moving almost as though in a dream, Tamaruk patted the cot. "Sinok, up," he said.
Sinok jumped up, and was soon curled up with Tamaruk, whose eyes drifted closed as Ayasha slipped out of his range of vision. Emboldened, Guyaky cautiously glided down and settled, half on Sinok's fury back and half on His's head.
Ayasha had to smile at the three occupants of the cot. The scene would, she thought, make a good painting. If only someone with any real talent at that skill was there with her to see it.