Unanswered Prayers

Swentzle Byström · 12-06-2011, 10:49 PM

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Heee so excited for this thread. <3 Is it alright if we forward-date it a couple days to the 9th? Also, hover for translation! <3

Word Count → 551

Swentzle had gotten curious shortly after meeting with Kiara, and moved farther south, passing through the Dampwoods--and another woodland, though he didn't know it--to explore farther south. He'd left Hamza and Citlali at their more regular campsite, however, and taken only Fovea with him as a guide; Citlali was protection enough for their supplies, and Hamza could be devastating when he felt threatened, so Swentzle felt little worry in leaving them alone. Fovea seemed to like the one-on-one time; she kept hitting the back of his legs with her tail, and rubbing his hand with her head, where it rested in order for her to steer him clear of large obstacles like rivers or fallen trees.

The terrain had been more difficult to traverse for the past hour or so; Fovea guided him through tight spaces, sometimes so narrow that he had to move behind her and hold her tail to be lead through. It was past sundown, and he was completely blind now, but he still went on, curious as to where Fovea was leading him. The materials that brushed against his fur were unfamiliar; hard and cold, unlike anything he'd ever felt before. He murmured quietly under his breath the words to banish evil spirits, staying as close as he could to his feline companion as they went deeper and deeper into the abandoned city. Sometimes he tripped unexpectedly over something lying in the road, and when that happened Fovea was there immediately to catch him, though nearly always he ended up on his knees with his arms and torso over her back, the cougar not quite having been fast enough. After the seventh or eighth time, he learned to drag his feet a bit over the ground, and kicked things out of the way before they became a problem.

He soon got the feeling that Fovea was taking him somewhere in particular, but where he couldn't quite discern; it was only the comfort of the small pack hanging from his shoulder, in which was his Awk and some medicinal herbs, that convinced him to keep going rather than demand they stop. He wished Fovea knew High Speech, as so many of her kind did, but when they were younger--and he did not require so much of her--they'd preferred to operate on an instinctive basis, relying on the way the other was acting to discern what they were thinking. He hadn't thought teaching her how to speak would be important, and she'd grown so vain and touchy after he'd lost his sight that suggesting it might make her leave him; he didn't want her to think she wasn't good enough anymore.

It was he who was useless.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity--though was really only another half an hour--Fovea stopped, and moved away from him quite suddenly, leaving him stumbling as he reached after her. "Quo vadis, Fovea?" His voice had an edge of panic in it, hoping she might return to him when she realized he was distressed, but this was not the case; she simply left him there, shaking slightly from the cold--he'd forgone his wrap when they'd started out, leaving his chest and arms bare, thinking it might be slightly warmer tonight--and from the fear.

Table by Aly, code by the Mentors!

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