20.Dec.13, 03:55 AM
Today hadn't been progressing as nicely as Firah had hoped it would, in fact it was leading him down a path that held little but disappointment. Flexing his hands to keep them warm as he stretched out his neck, the Beastcrafter reflected on the events that had happened during and since the landslide. It had perhaps been for the best that he hadn't Impressed in the hatching, if he had he might not have woken up when the rumbling started. He could have even ended up in one of the huts that had been obliterated by the slide. Truly it had been an awesome force of destruction. Watching as he had, Firah was sure the fear he had felt hadn't been fabricated, that it had been a deeply primal response to the natural based destruction. His life revolved around nature and it was times like that where he was reminded just how deadly the wild can be. When the mudslide had stopped, Firah had been one of the first people to assist in the rescue process. He remembered pulling out at least a handfull of people, most of which were so deeply in shock that they couldn't tell him if they had been injured. He had to carry one of the men for they quickly found out he'd broken a leg and was unable to walk.
Firah shuddered. The faces of the people they'd saved had been a mix of joy, confusion, and eventually despair. It was not an ordeal that he wanted to go through again. Touching the side of his lip, the Hunter proceeded to breathe warmth back into his cold fingers. The upside, if there could be one in the wake of such disaster, was that the Weyrleaders had announced that they would be returning to the North. Even if the North completely rejected them, exiled them, or what have you, perhaps he could still escape. As long as he wasn't recognized as being in league with these people he should be fine no matter what happened to them. All he wanted to do was return to his old life. He wanted to hold his child, sleep next to his wife, and spent some quiet nights out in the Nabol woods. While Firah was bitter still about being kidnapped he held no true hatred toward the Rider who took him and the Weyr that sanctioned the stealing. Living with them for a few Turns had convinced him that while they were strict and demanding, they just wanted to keep the Dragonkind alive.
Shaking himself from his dreaming with a quick full body wiggle, Firah retrieved an arrow from his quiver. He had gotten up early to go hunting and had quickly been able to pick up a trail but unfortunately he wasn't able to locate the animal before it left the safety of the new Weyr's territory. While he prided himself as a Huntsman he'd forced himself to stay with in a certain radius of the Weyr for safety reasons if he was hunting solo. Coming back practically empty handed (he managed to snag a few small wherries and a treehopper in his traps) had put the Crafter in a bad mood. Knocking an arrow and lifting his bow, Firah took a second to aim before firing at his makeshift target. He fired three more, all four of them clustering neatly together in the middle. There was a little time before he had to go check on some of his duties and Firah was intent on relieving at least some of his stress.
Firah shuddered. The faces of the people they'd saved had been a mix of joy, confusion, and eventually despair. It was not an ordeal that he wanted to go through again. Touching the side of his lip, the Hunter proceeded to breathe warmth back into his cold fingers. The upside, if there could be one in the wake of such disaster, was that the Weyrleaders had announced that they would be returning to the North. Even if the North completely rejected them, exiled them, or what have you, perhaps he could still escape. As long as he wasn't recognized as being in league with these people he should be fine no matter what happened to them. All he wanted to do was return to his old life. He wanted to hold his child, sleep next to his wife, and spent some quiet nights out in the Nabol woods. While Firah was bitter still about being kidnapped he held no true hatred toward the Rider who took him and the Weyr that sanctioned the stealing. Living with them for a few Turns had convinced him that while they were strict and demanding, they just wanted to keep the Dragonkind alive.
Shaking himself from his dreaming with a quick full body wiggle, Firah retrieved an arrow from his quiver. He had gotten up early to go hunting and had quickly been able to pick up a trail but unfortunately he wasn't able to locate the animal before it left the safety of the new Weyr's territory. While he prided himself as a Huntsman he'd forced himself to stay with in a certain radius of the Weyr for safety reasons if he was hunting solo. Coming back practically empty handed (he managed to snag a few small wherries and a treehopper in his traps) had put the Crafter in a bad mood. Knocking an arrow and lifting his bow, Firah took a second to aim before firing at his makeshift target. He fired three more, all four of them clustering neatly together in the middle. There was a little time before he had to go check on some of his duties and Firah was intent on relieving at least some of his stress.