Gone Fishin [Open]

The rains had been blessing at first. Temperatures had dropped back to something more bearable and that fresh rain washed scent had filled the air. As the rains lingered day after day they changed from a blessing to more of a curse. The steady rain found each and every leak. Quickly everything it touched was saturated. Paths degraded into muddy pits with pools of murky water whose depths were a mystery until you stepped in one by accident. Even the hatching grounds had flooded, hammering home the need for something to be done to improve the area. Unless of course the Weyr was secretly breeding aquatic dragons now.

It was difficult not to feel a bit glum beneath the near constant rain and dreary sunless sky. Trel refused to let something like a mindless rain win. He had a plan for today. If he could not escape the rain he could at least escape the endless mopping of muddy footprints for an hour or two. He was grinning as he struck out for the river, fishing pole in hand and a few meatrolls tucked into a pocket. He ignored the steady drip of rain, pulling the hood of his borrowed cloak a little further down. He didn't mind getting wet, but didn't want to risk being recognized. As all good fishermen did, he had a super secret fishing spot.

The underbrush wasn't going to let him through without depositing every drop of accumulated water onto him first. Trel pressed on, pausing only to untangle his line a couple times from a pesty branch or leaf as he marched along the riverside. It wasn't the easiest place to reach, but a good spot never was. If it was easy everyone would be there. Eventually his destination came into view. A deep pool whose rocky edges were over hung by various branches and bushes, and held the promise of some large fish within it's depths. For the moment he ignored the pool, heading instead toward a structure setting on the river bank.

He'd built the simple lean-to years back. It wasn't fancy, but it did keep off the sun and rain when needed, plus he'd made it himself. A couple spots had leaks, but nothing that couldn't be fixed later. He moved toward the rocky edge of the river, rolling over larger stones until he found a grub. They were rather disgusting to look at and to touch, but they did make descent bait for hungry fish. With a grimace he slid the wiggling creature onto his hook, wiping away some nasty gunk that oozed out as he did so. With a smooth motion he cast his baited hook toward the rain dappled pool. It hit the water with a plop before disappearing beneath the surface. Now he just had to wait.

Settling his pole between a couple of rocks he retreated to the lean-to to escape the wet. He pulled a slightly squished packet of meat rolls from his pocket, unwrapped them and took a bite from one. With the upcoming hatching there was a slim chance he wouldn't have time to do this for a while. He'd been told often enough how time consuming caring for a hatchling was. He'd also seen the worn out new riders staggering about in a near daze at times. The incident at the previous hatching had been memorable. The event was rather shocking and he hoped it would not be repeated anytime soon. The foul smell had seemed to linger in his nostrils for far to long. He had some smelly encounters before as a beastcrafter, but the rotten gold egg had been the worst.

He'd just taken another bite of his meat roll when there was the sudden snap off a branch. Trelanvor froze mid chew as his imagination picturing a large cat sneaking through the brush. Hands trembling he pulled loose his belt knife. A plan form quickly in his mind, not a great plan, but if he was really lucky it just might work. Taking a deep he jumped out with a wild scream, waving his knife around with desperate abandon as he screeched.

If there was one thing he disliked more than the cold, it was the rain. Firah didn't see the dreamy eyed appeal that it apparently held for some people, it was what it was, falling water. Cloudy skies always put a damper on his good moods since most of the time he still had to go out and work. There was rarely a storm that had passed where he hadn't needed to go out and calm the animals or herd them to a better location where they could spend the night without him having to worry about any of them catching a sickness from the wet and cold. The only upside was he rather enjoyed the feeling of changing out of wet cloths into new dry ones especially if they were clean. It felt nice, so he couldn't honestly say he disliked everything about the rain. Adjusting the walking staff he'd brought along with him as his young hunting companion trotted happily along side him, Firah checked the depth of the water pools that had collected between the roots of trees. Walking in the forest was hard enough in the dry season so when it rained nature threw a whole new labyrinth of obstacles to over come including mud slips and wet decomposing leaves. He glanced down at his Canine with a sigh, he'd have to give her a bath when they returned home.

Currently he was on a two part mission though both parts were similar in nature. The first was to check all his traps for damage due to the rain and the second was to check and see if he'd managed to snare anything. It was doubtful though. Small animals tended to go into hiding when it rained, so if he had caught anything it would be due more to luck than anything else. Normally he'd check the snares in reverse order starting at the Weyr and ranging incrementally out toward the river, as he did not like Katila and tended to try and waste as much of their time as he could. But today because of the soggy conditions decided to take the fastest route. He'd start at the river and head back toward the Weyr, so that if he had caught a few things he wouldn't have to trudge through the mud for twice as long carrying extra weight. The kitchen staff wouldn't be very happy if he brought muddy animals into their work space and no one should ever be idiotic enough to piss off the people who prepared your food.

"Almost there." He said to himself as the river's edge came into view between some of the trees. Using his staff to vault over a particularly large root, Firah landed in a small bed of leaves and twigs that produced a loud snapping noise as he transferred all of his weight onto it. That was smooth. Way to go hunter man, way to scare off any game. It was fortunate that he wasn't on a hunt or that noise may as well could have cost him his prey. Firah had barely taken a few steps before something, a human, jumped out with a wild scream and flailed a knife in his general direction. Instinct took over as Firah jumped to the side and swung his staff up to keep distance between him and the person. "Oi! Stop swinging that thing around ya dimglow!" On further inspection Firah realized he knew the person. Signaling for Janci to heel, Firah lowered the tip of his staff an inch or two. "Trelanvor! It's just me, Firah. I ain't some Feline comin' to get'cha." While he wasn't necessarily friends (close or otherwise) with the other man, they did work together when it came to their crafts. They both were Beastcrafters with a focus in Runners and knew about the care and handling of herdbeasts so they'd been introduced early on when Firah had "joined" Katila.

It wasn't a large hungry cat sneaking through the jungle, but a man. A man who was not to pleased to have someone yelling and waving a knife at him. Trel stared at the pair in surprise, falling into an award silence. He slipped his knife back into his belt. He knew Firah, slightly. The man didn't really hang about the weyr too much and the fact that he also had a dog didn't help. Trel could never really relax when one was nearby. Not that he wanted anyone to know about his fear of the creatures. It was embarrassing to be able to handle a panic herdbeast and yet be scared of canines. It was something he'd never quite been able to get over. Even around ones he knew were friendly he could help thinking they were waiting for just the right moment to bite him in the butt. He preferred his butt without bite marks.

"Ooops. Ahh sorry Firah. Didn't expect anyone else to be this far out, at least not in the rain." He pushed a wet clump of hair out of his face, keeping a discreet eye on the other candidate's canine. He could imagined how he'd look jumping into view, screeching and waving his knife. He was lucky Firah hadn't smacked him one with his staff. What he knew of the man came mostly from working with him. Their socializing didn't stretch much farther than mucking out pens and tending the livestock. Trel could appreciate his skill with animals even if the other man wasn't big on chit chat. Whatever Firah had thought of him had likely just been knocked down a few pegs by his outburst. How was he to know it wasn't a big and hungry feline sneaking up on him. Other than common sense which said that most things would be someplace warm and dry not wandering around the rain soaked jungle.

"So what brings you way out here? Not trying to steal my secret fishing hole are you?" He smirked, glancing toward his pole. He sighed, scowling slightly. "On second thought I might not mind since I haven't actually caught anything yet." He wanted to have at least something to bring home. Just in case anyone wondered why he had "disappeared" for a few hours. If he had a fish he could claim to have been doing something useful and not just hiding out under a lean-to eating meatrolls all afternoon.

@Bramble @Tashe

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SP Team