praying to the wrong piece of wood

Ithiel de le Poer · 01-21-2012, 05:59 AM

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(785) Private.

Prompt: The ravens that live in Hollow's Ruins get quite hungry during this time of the year. Pay them some homage for their duty to the clan and present them with a meal.

Ithiel is by me!

With the first hint of morning's light, Ithiel rose. The sun's rising generally preceded his own, although on this day, the dark-hued man had risen earlier still, when the pre-dawn light was but a faint yellowish tinge in a deeply purple sky. As he left his cave, he noted the sky was a brighter shade of lavender, but the sun herself had not yet arisen.

His bow and arrow strapped upon his back, the dark-hued wolf planned to make quick work of a few smaller mammals, sending the skinned pelts off to Myrika. He had gotten closer to his cousin since arriving here, and promised her all the skins she could handle if she could at least attempt to calm Lystra's nerves. On this day, even, the man's surly mare was off with his russet-haired cousin. Ithiel pondered how they fared, and decided it did not matter. He would do his rounds on foot today -- but first, breakfast, both for himself and for the ravens to the west of Inferni.

Zedekiah grumbled from his arm, but Ithiel moved deftly through the snow, listening to the pleasant crunch of it beneath his feet. Snow was not altogether absent in the desert, as one might think. With the night came frigid cold, too, and Ithiel was used to winter's chill from his previous year. He did not expect to see quite so much snow, however, and he hadn't accounted for the colder days. Where the desert grew hot with the day and cold with the night, Nova Scotia seemed to remain colder throughout winter, allowing the snow to accumulate. This did not irritate Ithiel -- the weather was of no consequence to the dark man.

Some hours later, the dark-hued man had his catch: three squirrels and two hares, along with a rather plump pair of grouse. A third grouse had provided his meal, and Zedekiah had partaken of a fourth squirrel. These had been felled with his bow, and lucky Ithiel had recovered all but two of the arrows he'd used to down the animals. Another had shattered when it struck bone, and still one more had broken at the shaft. The head of this latter arrow was, at least, salvageable. He strung everything together with a short piece of rope, slinging this over his shoulder as he walked westward, passing familiar landmarks.

Zedekiah flew above him, circling high in the sky with what seemed to be minimal effort on the vulture's part. His wings and body shape were meant for soaring, after all. He hadn't the remora of small wings meant for diving earthward, nor any of the other hunting adaptations developed by raptors -- he was built to roam the skies for hours upon hours, seeking his meals of the recently dead. Ithiel's eyes swept skyward at the thought and found the circling dot of his bird, nodding to himself as he walked. The journey did not take long, and Ithiel soon found himself approaching Myrika's schoolhouse. She did not seem to be home, as he expected. The pile of pelts was left just inside the main door -- of course, the lock was long rusted to uselessness, and one within Inferni had little need for locks, after all.

Ithiel moved along quickly, preferring not to meet his cousin, especially if she was atop his cantankerous mare. He loped southward and westward, and soon the looming copse of trees signifying the hollow came before him. Already, the angry caw of ravens came to his ears, and Ithiel grimaced at the din. Upon looking at Zedekiah, one might suspect him for a particularly raucous bird, perhaps merely due to his size. On the contrary, Zedekiah spoke and vocalized infrequently. His voice was raspy, barely more than grunts at times -- otherwise, the big death-bird was utterly quiet. Ithiel appreciated this about his companion, as he himself preferred not to speak lengthily if he could help it.

Ithiel approached the trees with the meat slung over his shoulder, ducking beneath a particularly low branch. The ravens shuffled in the higher reaches of the trees, and Ithiel watched them with cautious crimson eyes, regarding the smaller birds with some disdain. Nonetheless, they provided a service to the clan, and for that, the coyotes of Inferni were obligated to provide for these cawing creatures. Ithiel took the meat-belt from his shoulder and tossed it up on the large, burned tree, utterly indifferent to its past meaning. Heathen's alters meant nothing at all to the dusky-hued man, and he watched as dark shadows burst from the treetops to descend upon the offered gift.

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