The Tale of Outh'n Durr

Chapter 5: Wanderer

Outh'n jerked awake suddenly as something scratched the back of his hand. Yesterdawn, as the suns sank below the horizon and the shadows of the forest had grown, he'd found a tree whose roots had kindly created a comfortable nest. Mazh and dry leaves lined the bottom and the underbrush surrounding the trunk concealed the space from the casual passerby. Wedging himself between two branching roots and using his pack as a pillow, he'd gotten the deepest sleep he'd had since leaving Prichud.

Until now. He carefully checked his knuckles. No broken skin or blood, not even a small red streak or dot met his careful inspection. He looked around, inspecting the darker spots within the confines of his nest. A soot-black ball of fur about half the size of his palm caught his eye. He reached for it.

"So you're the culprit, eiya?" Outh'n smiled indulgently, stretching muscles he hadn't used in nainda. Bizhals were one of the few beasts of Shinnoah whose personalities matched their looks. Fuzzy, ultra-soft fur covered their small round bodies. They walked on four tiny feet, their toes tipped with rounded claws built for digging through the dirt and leaves to uncover the insects they feasted on. Two round, brilliant blue eyes met his own golden brown ones and the creature purred.

"At least I know you didn't intend harm. Are you hunting, little one?" Outh'n lowered his cupped hands so the bizhal could step out if it wished. It stayed, waving it's two feathered antennae as if in question.

"Oh, I'm just passing through." Outh'n grimaced. "I don't have much choice, really. I'm an outcast." When the beastie made no move but gazed at him steadily, Outh'n spoke again. "You don't care, do you?" he smiled gratefully as he continued, "But I can't take you with me, little one. If anyone knew you were with me, they'd try to take you away or harm you. You're better off without me."

As if it understood, the creature crept slowly off of Outh'n's palms. It felt nothing like the scrape that had awakened him. He watched as it bumbled back to the place where he'd picked it up. Stopping there for just a moment, it picked up something in its mouth, then bumbled away. A glimpse was all Outh'n got of its prey but he paled at the tell-tale aurora of a kinzhik's thin, iridescent wings.

"Thank you, little friend," Outh'n whispered faintly. He could've been stung. Bile rose in his throat. Perhaps Tugansol watched over him in spite of his wavering faith. He offered a quick prayer of thanks just in case the Creator was listening to him.

Outh'n stood once the bizhal was gone and brushed himself free from leaves and twigs. His shoulders protested as he lifted his pack and shrugged it into place. Taking a deep breath, he set out for the path, fighting his way through the underbrush. His stomach reminded him he should eat something, but this place wasn't far enough away from the main road. Wild berries or nuts would have to do, overripe and hard to find, though they may be.

A sudden clamor from behind him, in the direction of the main trail, halted him. Halfway through a patch of prickly underbrush, he had no choice but to duck into it, knowing well the scratches that would be inflicted on the few bare patches of skin he'd not been able to cover. One thorn raked over the still tender flesh of his cheek where the branding iron had sent him into blessed oblivion. He hissed but clamped his jaws together quickly. Hopefully, he was far enough from the trail that whoever was passing by would remain oblivious to his presence.

It didn't seem possible but instead of passing, the clamor seemed to move further away from him. What in the name of the Life-giving Breath sent them away? Considering the possible reasons a caravan would turn aside to find another path wasn't very encouraging.

He could think of several, and most of them had quite efficient teeth and claws. But to send them running so quickly in this place, there were only a few options.

It couldn't be whe'evet. They stayed in the mountain ranges only coming down to the valleys in extreme weather. Bah'riim? He was too far west under normal circumstances, though one may have strayed from their usual hunting grounds.

Wuveia. It had to be. And this close, it would already have his scent. It had probably picked up his conversation with the bizhal moments ago and was biding its time. Deciding it was now or never, Outh'n made his move to rise from the thorny thicket. Coming to his knees, he met the golden-eyed glare of the very beast.

Dear Tugansol in Zoleta, it was massive! He'd never seen one up close, only from a distance as he'd watched over his babeiya's cattle. The domesticated wuve, relatives of these forest dwellers, never grew this big. But their presence on a farm did seem to discourage their larger kin from feasting on the pastured animals.

Outh'n sat back on his heels, resigned to a fast, bloody death. Shaking violently, he closed his eyes and bared his throat. If he made himself an easy target, maybe the death would be swifter, less painful. He'd had enough of pain over the course of his life and what did he have to live for anyway? He was more than ready to die.