Hydaelyn Role-Players

K'iara scanned the heads of the women following her. About eight in total at the moment, but they were missing a few stragglers. A certain useless pink haired girl, and her obnoxiously stoic sister, and of course that useless Tia of an Uncle. K'iara's ears flattened somewhat. No matter. They would be fine on the hunt without them. Stragglers could catch up or stay back. K'iara wasn't about to let a few idiots ruin the hunt.

While her usual raspy voice was never loud enough to call out directions, K'iara had long since developed a system of whistles to get her point across. It wasn't unheard of to have done, and since yelling out directions when hunting prey was a sure way to get the prey startled, K'iara had simply adapted it for use before the hunt's beginning. K'iara placed her fingers to her lips before whistling high and loud, catching the attention of the huntresses around her, and hopefully alerting the stragglers that they were leaving.

The red-headed woman lead the way, slipping out with limber legs into the darkness of night. Her brilliant blue eyes shimmering iridescently with the moon's light. There was less cover here than in the Sagolli, so they would need to stay low to the ground. She'd yet to see how the prey in the area looked fore predators. It was going to be a whole new experience in hunting.

As the last few of the huntresses caught up with her, K'iara picked out two of the group, motioning with quick hand signals to start the scouting. It would do no good if the whole group went around scouting, they'd draw too much attention. Kneeling low to the ground and having the others do so, K'iara crawled forward over a small rise in the grassy hills to inspect the land. The scouts should return with a good target, but for the time being, waiting silently in the darkness would be key.

K'iara wasted no time with setting K'nahli to work and lucky it was that K'nahli had not tarried much longer with sending her gaze toward the older huntress's direction lest she have missed the order and earned further disfavour that night. A quick and stoic nod indicated the girl's understanding before she quickly returned her gaze toward K'tahjha, meeting with the younger girl's emerald eyes before uttering an almost soundless whisper in her direction:

"Stay close".


With little delay, the archer hastily pushed forward into the welcoming, shroud of the evening's, falling darkness. Under normal circumstances the girl might have instead instructed K'tahjha to remain with the main party for the time being. After all, the very first excursion, and one held immediately preceding the quickly approaching night at that, was not truly the ideal time to have the young girl earn some experience with scouting in the ill-imagined event that she might only serve to scare any potential quarry off. Still, K'nahli had not the nerve nor the energy to do so right now. The path of least resistance was most alluring right now, even if the risks of drama later on were not beyond the realms of possibility.

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Darkness was no true companion of the sunseeker miqo'te, but it was a ritual long-since adapted to in the harsh years directly following the calamity. Though they were stripped of their fiendishly, perceptive eyesight during these hours, the Hipparion tribe's hunters and huntresses were certainly not to be underestimated. The fleet-footed girl quickly scurried her away across the landscape in a north-easterly direction, effectively dodging between the obstructing brambles and over loose gravel in an admirable and, so far, successful effort to avoid making any sound at all. In truth it was but a childish matter of discerning the environment around her by dodging between the subtle but perceivably darker silhouettes that decorated the barren floor around her.
The whole experience certainly was something new, and surely in better days, something that she would quickly learn to find both exciting and truly invigorating. Merely moving forward, even with a cautiously reduced pace, consumed a lot more energy in a short space of time than it would have in less taxing environment of Sagolii - where the sandy dunes loyally betrayed little-to-no sound, even for the more heavy-footed of hunters; but even so, that would only be something that would make it all the more interesting to K'nahli. The thrill of a hunt and the new challenges that it would pose... even now, somewhere deep inside her it still tickled at her stomach, though hopefully someday soon she would allow herself to truly and wholly appreciate this new experience.


Even in this new environment, the agile girl would normally be far more swift with this particular duty; though regardless of her large absence of mind right now, she could not neglect to remember that the young and ill-experienced K'tahjha was in close pursuit of her - for a variety of reasons.

Coming to a slow halt near the summit of a softly-sloped hill, K'nahli brought herself to a more stealthy crouch as she turned to cast her eyes back toward K'tahjha and observe her progress.

Scouting? K'tahjha's ears drooped, surely her sister would leave her with the group since she was assigned such an important duty. She was so convinced she would be left behind she almost missed the nearly inaudible whisper form the huntress to stick close. 

Tahj was impressed by the speed K'nahli managed to maintain in the dark through unfamiliar terrain, and it took all of the more inexperienced girl's concentration to keep up. The brambles and plants were not much different than dodging trees in the shroud at night. But the footing was trickier than both leaves and sand, so much of her attention was on avoiding crunching them underfoot and scaring her sister's prey.

Tahj was fairly proud when K'nahli stopped and dropped to a crouch and she was not far behind and breathing easily despite the speed they had been making.

The meat was going to spoil soon. What of it had not been eaten on the trip. That made K'ile's stomach turn. He understood needing to wait on the feast, and needing to initiate the first hunt on the first night. But half of the food he'd brought for the tribe's feat was gone now, and the rest was sitting unused. He'd done everything right, securing the feast, the blessing of a female, but the tribe seemed suddenly uninterested in having anyone challenge the Nunh. K'ile wasn't old enough to be too bitter over it; after all, he did not want to become a Nunh for himself. All of this was for the tribe. Moreso, it was for K'luha.

But if the tribe kept this up, being a Nunh would mean nothing. There would be no lovers, no fathers, no families, no heart of strength in the tribe. And K'ile cared about that.

So he ignored everything and cooked. He stirred the salt and ignored the way the white dust of it stung his senses, blocking out every smell until he'd be luck if he could tell old meat from new. It didn't matter. He was going to cook everything. He didn't even care if he did a good job. He'd light the bonfire and cook the feast and dare the tribe to ignore his challenge then.

The tent that stored the food was no larger than a living tent for a small family; they'd never had enough food to need a bigger one. K'ile set all the boxes of meat open next to the salt and a broad ceramic vessel that would hold the coals that were brought to him.

K'deiki had returned to the Elders' tent for only a short time, long enough to conclude their prayers and finish arranging their belongings. The actions were as familiar as breathing to the Elders, and to K'deiki, like to all of them, this was a great comfort.

Rather than linger further in the sanctuary of their tent, however, the old, withered woman left K'takka and K'jhanhi to their quiet and ventured beyond the drake-hide walls. Her old ears could not pick out sounds as they once had, and her eyesight made the waning twilight a wash of shapeless grey, but her old nose had not yet failed her. She smelled the leaving of the huntresses and, leaning heavily on her walking stick, sent them one last, silent prayer for success. A few family who remained behind cast respectful, if perhaps concerned, glances her way before continuing about their business.

Then she smelled the smoke of a renewed fire, and the old woman began to walk. The colorful cloth that wrapped her hunched body shifted over a far different ground, her feet settling against firmer dirt than the dunes of the Sagolii. Her nose led her between a number of tents that stood as only darker shadows against a vague, grey space. She trusted her remaining sense, her feet, and the stick that kept her upright to take her where she sought to go.

The Tia's scent became more noticeable when she neared the fire, along with the sharp, dry smell of salted meat. She paused, body curving forward as she worked to catch her breath and strength, and then finally spoke, "Twice now you have sought to teach our young new things." Her thin voice ended in a thick cough.

K'ile stood up straight from the rack of sticks he'd been setting up over the cooking vessel. His eyes saw K'deiki, but he didn't trust them immediately. The concussion was still playing with his senses, and without his scent of smell, his initial reaction was one of confusion. He couldn't recall the last time an Elder had approached him out among the tents. K'ile glanced outside the tent, into the night, seeking some sign of Xha'li with the coals that K'ile needed in order to begin cooking, but he saw no sign of the man.

Ears askew, K'ile returned a vexed gaze to the Elder. Then he inclined his head to her in respect. "K'deiki. I'm not sure what..." He heard the woman's words clearly, but couldn't discern their meaning.

"Suffer me to rest my weary bones under the open sky for a time," the Elder replied with some humor, shuffling forward before very slowly beginning the painful effort to lower herself to the ground, near the fire.

Keeping his face inclined, K'ile Tia was still for a time. Perhaps he was wondering if the Elder was going to crumble in her attempt to sit down. Perhaps he was trying to discern her purpose in approaching him. He was not worried. Of all the Elders, she was the least likely to Exile him on a whim. Perhaps he put too much weight on the Elder's movements. Maybe she was just enjoying the cooler, wetter air of their new home.

"At least one man in this tribe should show some interest in the young." K'ile turned back to the salt and wrinkled his nose at it. "They deserve better than they're getting."

When her withered limbs were finally folded beneath her, K'deiki set her walking stick upon the ground to one side and folded her hands in her lap. Her lungs wheezed for breath for several moments before she quieted and straightened as much as her arthritic spine allowed. Milky eyes watched the vague glow of embers, and the wrinkles that drew winding canyons across her face deepened with a secret smile, as though she were holding in some kind of joke.

"The whispers on the wind speak of constant water a short time south. That is a very generous gift from our Warden," her voice came thin and raspy. "We must take care not to spoil it, but... She cannot shame us for taking some enjoyment from it, I think. The young ones least of all." Still that secret smile remained.

"Uhm." K'ile reached up and tugged on one ear. He got salt in his hair, though, and so shook his head fiercely, ear flicking. This gave him a headache, which he cringed against subtly. Finally, he turned wincing eyes back on the elder. He hoped he never grew that old. "I'm talking about teaching the children. Role models. They don't have any good ones."

K'deiki laughed. The chuckle lasted only a few moments, sounding from deep within the cloth that swaddled her body, and then it broke with a cough. When the old woman recovered, she turned her face towards the Tia though she could only barely make out his silhouette. "Do not think me so far gone as to lose track of words like that, K'ile Tia." She spoke his title without any mockery, rather with a solemn understanding. "A huntress's sharp mind fades only with her last breath, after all."

Thin, grey hair woven in braids and beads shifted as the Elder shook her head. "No, I know very well what you do. Will it be a good feast?"

"I didn't mean to say that you were. Uhm." Where was that Xha'li with those coals? It was going to start getting cold outside soon, and K'ile wanted to be done well before the huntresses returned. "The feast won't be as good as it would've been. But it's been a long time since we've had a feast. Nobody's going to complain about bellies full of good meat."

The Elder hummed, the lines shaping her face creasing into more varied canyons and valleys as she smiled in entertainment. "A feast deserving of their future," she rasped, referring to the children they'd spoke of moments prior though not explicitly specifying. "That is all that is needed. And, of course, the challenge." The coals caught her clouded eyes, giving them a bit of the spark they may have once held.

"The challenge more than anything." K'ile stepped back from what he was doing and dropped into a crouch. He couldn't actually cook anything until Xha'li arrived, and he wasn't going to leave the Elder alone to chase after the kid. SO he just leveled himself off to K'deiki and looked over at her. "If I'd known the tribe had become so complacent about the Nunh, I would've started fighting K'yohko for the title a long time ago. I'd never have won, but I'd have fought for the sake of it."

"K'yohko is a strong man. It would take much to defeat him," K'deiki wheezed, her suddenly somber tone broken by a hacking cough that shook her shrunken, hunched form for several moments.