Home From the Wilds

The Drakesreach Sierra

A rugged range of rocky hills that feature an irregular and jagged profile, distinguished by the ashen rise of the snow-tipped Dragonspine Mountains to the far north, and the transformation of rolling plains into more somber auburn grasslands and bleaker lapidarian terrain that stretches between the foot of the mountain range to the north, the lush Verdigris Forest to the south, the crystal waters of the Jadesnake to the west, and the dry lowlands to the east. Auburn becomes granite as smoothly as night becomes day upon the higher flats of the Drakesreach Sierra; the harsh grasses and the thorny brush give way to firmer rocky soil, and the shade of ashen sweeps over the ground below, the stones that crunch underfoot offering a bleak yet welcoming change from the uphill trek.

''There is a cave set in one of the nearby hills, though sealed up by several loose stones. A small camp sits on a hill overlooking the cave, providing some shelter from the elements out here.''

''It is a very cold night. A strong breeze blows over the land.'' The sky is moonless, a portent of Shadow strength.

A pair of wildlanders, one male and one female sit inside one of the camp buildings, having, apparently, been talking for some time now.

"I know there are differences between those who are shadow touched and those who are sun kissed," Blackfox admits, "But...I do not know what those differences are. To me, it is all magic, aye?"

Sandrim tugs at his sleeves, to keep out the cold. "All... something like that, I guess," he says. "But so different at the same time. The Shadow takes while it gives to you. It's versatile, but it tries to consume you at the same time. The Light isn't like that. Not from what I understand." He smiles. "It's good."

"So what sort of magic can be done by those who are kissed?" Fox asks curiously.

Sandrim frowns. "I... can't say I really know it all," he admits, grinning a bit sheepishly. "They can heal, for one. Some of them glow, there's that wolf. You'd have to ask Celeste for a better explanation I think."

"I will ask her when I see her next," Blackfox nods, "Or Griedan. I have not seen him out at the Refuge for awhile now."

Sandrim grins at Fox. "I saw him not too long ago," he says. "Apparently, he's looking to try and join the Ordinators. It'll be good for him, I suppose."

"What exactly do the Ordinators do?" Blackfox asks, "They are guards?"

Sandrim furrows his brow. "Well, I'm not sure /exactly/ everything they do," he says. "They're rather new. Something like warrior priests."

"Priest?" Blackfox frowns, "Milora is a priest now?"

Sandrim shrugs. "Something like that, I suppose," he says. "It can be a position of some honor and status. A noblewoman going after that... isn't too surprising, is it?"

"Aye, but I would think a priest would be more...I do not know," Blackfox shrugs, "More holy?"

Sandrim rubs the back of his neck and shrugs. "I can't say why some people do the things they do, or why they're chosen." He grins at Fox. "I'm a diviner, but unlike Taran, I make no pretentions to understanding everything."

Blackfox chuckles, "None of my kinfolk have ever shown signs of being touched or kissed," she replies, "We are just too simple I suppose."

There is a pause as Sandrim looks over to Blackfox, then he shakes his head. "No," he says, smiling softly at her. "I don't think it has anything to do with how simple you are, and you don't seem horribly simple to me. No more than I am, in any case. And, well, I'm the only one in my family."

"You have none you call kin?" Blackfox asks, cocking her head and looking at the man.

"Well, I have kin," Sandrim responds with a grin. "They just aren't touched, like me. Nah, my father, he was a soldier. And my sister... Guess she's something like that too. Just, on her own. A mercenary."

"Ah, I misunderstood," Blackfox says with a nod, "I took it to mean you were the only one in your family, not the only one touched."

Sandrim shakes his head. "No," he says. "Definitely there's more than just me. I'm no Syladris, just appearing in the wild." He tugs his cloak a bit more tightly about himself, leaning against the wall, then chuckles. "Nah, human, fruit of my father's loins and all that."

Blackfox smiles and ducks her head, "Did not think you were anything but," she replies, "Only that perhaps you had no living kinfolk."

"Nope. Last time I checked, there were those two." Sandrim turns his head, looking over Fox. "How 'bout you? Your parents still out there?

Blackfox shakes her head, "Nay, not for a long time," she replies, looking up at the stars, "I've a brother I see once or twice a year when our paths cross, and some distant cousins who gather from time to time at the holidays, but...nay, it is not as it once was."

There is a long silence, before Sandrim asks, "Is that why you don't want to raise a family? Because they'll all scatter to the wind, some day?"

"It was not that they scattered but that they were slaughtered," Blackfox replies with all the pragmatism of a Wildlander born. "We camped in one place for too long and the Wildlings found them while I was out checking traps. Perhaps one day I would raise a family, but...but it is not something I have thought much of doing."

Reaching over, Sandrim gives Fox a pat on the shoulder, before a tight, one-armed hug. "I'm sorry to hear about that," he says softly. "But, we'll change that. It'll be something no one has to worry about anymore, not with the Refuge." He smiles. "A good city, protected well. It could mean so much here."

"Move, hide, never stay still for too long," Blackfox replies, leaning into the hug, "That is how we survive. The Refuge...it runs against everything I was ever taught. Safety does not lie in walls but in making yourself hard to find, aye?" She gives him a half-hearted smile, "I...I try to see things the way you do, but it is not easy."

Smiling down at Fox, Sandrim gives her a bit tighter of a hug. "It's good, really," he says. "It will keep you safe - there's safety in numbers, and not just being off hiding by yourself. But, more importantly... It's a home, Fox. People need that."

"Home," Fox repeats the word, "Wildlanders have lived without a home for so long I am not so certain..." she shrugs, "It is not the same for us, aye? The Refuge is so new and our way so old."

Sandrim just chuckles at Fox, giving her another hug. "Even the oldest ways may change, when something good and new is presented. Give the Wildlands time. I don't think... you'll ever stop ranging, but home will become important as well."

"Perhaps," Fox says with a nod, "Time will tell, I think. There is much to be said for a place such as the Refuge. I am still getting accustomed to the idea of friends let alone calling any one place a home."

"Give it time," Sandrim says. "Just give it time, and you'll be used to it." He looks out into the Sierra. "Takes more than a day to change someone's ideas about life."

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