Everything was calm at the start.
Everyone was cool thanks to the shade off the trees, and there was a breeze that provided extra comfort to them.
Çhirē Trìßtell in particular, took note of the wind.
'Peculiar...' she thought.
'We may have a smoother day in this forest...'
Everyone seemed more or less energized. Except for one.
Because Gärehn lagged behind the group...
'Halt.' Çhirē Shiyīvnē said. Breaking her line of thought.
Everyone stopped immediately.
'We rest.' she continued.
'What's up?' Jærvun asked a few moments later.
'One of us needs more rest than the others.'
Gärehn then became alert.
'I can still go on.' he said.
'No you cannot... Your injury will open up again.'
Gärehn was taken aback by hearing this.
'Do not think I did not notice you clutching at your side when we first walked.'
Gärehn could do nothing, so he clenched his teeth and rested.
Within only a few minutes, Gärehn fell into a deep slumber.
Shiyīvnē left, saying she was going to tend to something, leaving the group to Çhirē Yùleyne and Çhirē Trìßtell.
They all stayed there for a while.
Allowing Gärehn to fully sleep. And for them to rest.
They were making good progress, already a fair ways away from the village.
Trìßtell just basked in the wind...
It blew... And blew...
Then the wind changed direction...
This made her eyes narrow.
'Stay here.' she told everyone else.
'I need to look at something.'
Nobody seemed to complain.
And so, Trìßtell followed the wind...
It wound and twisted and maneuvered her around the forest.
Until it reached an open area within the forest...
The air stood still...
Eventually, she was approached by someone.
Their skin was dark purple... They held no weapon, so far.
Their masks and sleeveless hooded cloak made it easy to identify them..
It was Zyõrê... And it seemed to be a young one...
He then began to speak.
'why... Brings, presence...?'
His Væltràn was extremely lacking..
But his intentions were interpretable enough..
'I am on a journey....'Trìßtell said.
The young one panicked and lifted 1 finger up before he fumbled around his many pockets.
Eventually he found what he was looking for.
A notebook of sorts.
After sifting around the pages, he spoke again.
'Desire, items?'
Trìßtell then used her pointer finger and spun it around in front of her.
A zyõrê trade sign.
YOU ARE READING
The thought of making a disaster
General FictionWhat makes a disaster happen? It's the thought that does, as young Jærvun is about to find out. Disclaimer: All the spellings here are of this world's native language and is of no way,shape, or form related to how we use them in our own world, so do...
