Witch & Doctor

Ralla · 10-10-2010, 04:15 PM

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Backdated to Sept. 30; first post by Kemo please :3

The night before, just after Ralla's encounter with Ember, she had seen another vision.

In her dreams, all had been dark as a starless night. Nothing was felt, heard, tasted, or smelled. It was a void that was cut by a wolfess's cry of anguish, followed by a blinding light. And all around, replacing the black space, was red, red, red. Ralla had looked up, or what she had presumed as up, to see a shape appearing from the disippating cover of the endless night. It was a crescent moon that illuminated her dream then, and a centaur came galloping downwards toward her with the bow strung and the arrow ready to strike. Ralla had had no body in this dream, so she could only watch as the centaur touched the proverbial ground and exploded into a light that absorbed the red. In the place where the centaur had been, a wolf wearing a red mask with a familiar mark on the forehead took its place. The wolf was huge, and it held a staff tied with herbs and feathers as it jangled a string of bells and rattling beads. The wolf swished its staff once in front of it, and it disappeared as the pole swept by. Darkness was all that was left when Ralla surged up in a cold sweat.

Her hut was long since finished; the strong structure having been laid from pliable poles of wood now surrounded by interwoven thatch tied by strong string and rope kept the wind out and the temperature within satisfactory. It had not taken Ralla much time to get enough thatching together, what with her new tools and the turning season. Fire would be the hut's only undoing, and Ralla did not plan to have a fire anywhere near but a little ways from under the tree, and even then tempered and kept from sparking or growing beyond the need for warmth. Ralla herself was slung between two other poles she had placed within the hut after her own design. They were sturdy and held the hammock Ralla had fashioned from an old tarp well enough. A myriad of the glass and knickknacks Ralla had collected from her previous journey hung now from the creviced ceiling by more string, and they glistened from the moon and starlight reflecting through the bare window. Other than those details, the hut was mostly bare. Soon she would work on the other huts that she had promised herself to start, but she was not sure if she could do it all before winter became too harsh and the need for wood to dire for warmth instead of housing.

But even the contained warmth in the hut did nothing to stop the chill from her dream

Such a dream... And the centaur. A red moon... It's all so obvious, but... Is it really possible? Oh moon; what task have you set for me now...? Ralla could not deny that the crescent red moon was obviously a symbol for Kemo; for his ex-pack. The centaur had been Sagittarius, his sign, and the decider of his fate. The wolf with the mask had had the same mark on its forehead as Ralla did on hers, symbolizing both the duty of the Shaman and her part in whatever was about to happen. But the wolf itself...had undoubtedly been Anatoliy, the gentle giant she had met on her journey. Is there a part for him in this too? Or is he simply where we're supposed to go? The 'we' in her question was inescapable. Kemo was a vital player in the vision, and Ralla had to seek him out...and beg his forgiveness. All had been peaceful since their confrontation, and Ralla did not, in the end, want bad blood between them. Even if she could not allow him closer to herself just yet, she could not just ignore a way to help him. That darkness...was probably what it was to be blind like Kemo. If the moon could cure his blindness... It is not my right to deny him that.

Jumping from her hammock, running out the door only to leap to the ground, Ralla raced to the stables to gather Sugar up. She had not bothered, this time, to bring any supplies, since she knew where they were going and that the journey would be short. The weather was still good, and Ralla had done a weather prediction and seen that it would still be good for awhile. She climbed aboard the irritated stallion--once more woken during the night, as his rider was prone to the out-of-routine awakenings--and urged him to the place where she had first met Kemo. Whether he would trust her again or speak to her again, she did not know. But she had to try.

Moon walks. "Moon talks." Moon thinks

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