[The first hour of Hector's hike sees his anger simmer into a boil. He makes great time, powered by nothing but pure ire.
His fairy, flying after him with wings flitting too quickly to see, finally points out a rabbit hiding beneath a line of bushes. Hector stops, and though he has no tools with which to hunt, between himself, his fairy, and his dark necromatic powers, he manages to catch the damned thing.
That little moment of victory breaks his foul mood, and he takes a moment to forage. A few berries and sprouts have him feeling human again, though certainly not sated.]
I'm a damned fool to let him bate me. I have to be better than that. [He tells the fairy, who nods in a mimicry of a human response, but without an understanding of what it means.
He uses some vines to tie the rabbit's legs together and swings it into his back. It's something to barter, much as he'd like to stop and eat it himself.
It takes a good part of the day to reach the little town he was aiming for, and a couple of hours trading, doing odd jobs, and going through the delicate song and dance of healing peasants with his concealed fairy, and convincing them both that it was not witchcraft, but it it was a service to be paid for. Knowledge from his years with Rosaly, who made real medicines, gives some verisimilitude to the sham poultices he throws together out of grasses and mud he gathered along the way here.
It's near dark when he finally trudges back to the campsite where he'd left Isaac that morning. He comes bearing peace offerings- a slab of slanina and a little loaf of coarse bread, in addition to the more practical rations of hard tack and dried fish.]
Isaac?
[He calls out quietly, when he reaches the clearing and doesn't see the other forgemaster right away.]
no subject
His fairy, flying after him with wings flitting too quickly to see, finally points out a rabbit hiding beneath a line of bushes. Hector stops, and though he has no tools with which to hunt, between himself, his fairy, and his dark necromatic powers, he manages to catch the damned thing.
That little moment of victory breaks his foul mood, and he takes a moment to forage. A few berries and sprouts have him feeling human again, though certainly not sated.]
I'm a damned fool to let him bate me. I have to be better than that. [He tells the fairy, who nods in a mimicry of a human response, but without an understanding of what it means.
He uses some vines to tie the rabbit's legs together and swings it into his back. It's something to barter, much as he'd like to stop and eat it himself.
It takes a good part of the day to reach the little town he was aiming for, and a couple of hours trading, doing odd jobs, and going through the delicate song and dance of healing peasants with his concealed fairy, and convincing them both that it was not witchcraft, but it it was a service to be paid for. Knowledge from his years with Rosaly, who made real medicines, gives some verisimilitude to the sham poultices he throws together out of grasses and mud he gathered along the way here.
It's near dark when he finally trudges back to the campsite where he'd left Isaac that morning. He comes bearing peace offerings- a slab of slanina and a little loaf of coarse bread, in addition to the more practical rations of hard tack and dried fish.]
Isaac?
[He calls out quietly, when he reaches the clearing and doesn't see the other forgemaster right away.]