04.Jul.22, 07:16 PM
Chironhes glanced up with a small frown at the odd noise Malvayth made. Even without a bond, he could tell he'd upset her. Or maybe she was just feeding off his own distress. The horses did that sometimes, too. If he was preoccupied with distressing thoughts, those that were typically nervous were more flighty than usual.
He looked down at the ground as Cazan tried to offer an explanation. It made sense when she put it that way, he supposed, and he was glad to hear it was a rare thing. With how many had mentioned it, the boy worried it would be more frequent. When the rider explained how sensitive Malvayth could be, Chir dipped his head in apology. Sorry, Malvayth. I didn't mean to upset you.
The young hunter forced himself to think of something else, the task made easier as Cazan changed subjects. Eagerly, he latched onto the offered lifeline and nodded with a smile. Or at least I used to before coming here. I guess I camped, too. But it was just everyday life for me.
Chir imagined his old home. He'd built the shelter with his own hands at the base of a stand of Skybrooms. It first started out as a simple lean-to made of fallen branches and woven Ging fronds to keep out the rain. Over time, he'd learned to cure canvases made of wherry and boar hides, using those to constitute the roof and sides of his shelter after waterproofing them with oil distilled from fish he caught. It had all been very trial-and-error, and there had been many days in the early times of living in the forest that he'd nearly succumbed to the elements, illness, or plain starvation.
It had been a difficult time, looking back now, in comparison to what was available at the Weyr, but Chir still felt fond of what he'd learned on his own. They'd all made very formative memories for him, and he'd learned those lessons with more permanence than anyone being taught in a less arduous setting. There was no teaching quite like experience and the looming threat of death at a wrong decision.
Chir didn't know the names of plants like Sironar. He had no knowledge-base of where things grew or why or how, but he knew which plants were edible and which were harmful simply by being exposed to them time and time again.
What's it like to camp with a dragon? the boy wondered. Do you make a shelter or find shelter? Do you sleep under the stars, Malvayth? Or on the tops of Skybrooms? I bet they'd make good perches.
He looked down at the ground as Cazan tried to offer an explanation. It made sense when she put it that way, he supposed, and he was glad to hear it was a rare thing. With how many had mentioned it, the boy worried it would be more frequent. When the rider explained how sensitive Malvayth could be, Chir dipped his head in apology. Sorry, Malvayth. I didn't mean to upset you.
The young hunter forced himself to think of something else, the task made easier as Cazan changed subjects. Eagerly, he latched onto the offered lifeline and nodded with a smile. Or at least I used to before coming here. I guess I camped, too. But it was just everyday life for me.
Chir imagined his old home. He'd built the shelter with his own hands at the base of a stand of Skybrooms. It first started out as a simple lean-to made of fallen branches and woven Ging fronds to keep out the rain. Over time, he'd learned to cure canvases made of wherry and boar hides, using those to constitute the roof and sides of his shelter after waterproofing them with oil distilled from fish he caught. It had all been very trial-and-error, and there had been many days in the early times of living in the forest that he'd nearly succumbed to the elements, illness, or plain starvation.
It had been a difficult time, looking back now, in comparison to what was available at the Weyr, but Chir still felt fond of what he'd learned on his own. They'd all made very formative memories for him, and he'd learned those lessons with more permanence than anyone being taught in a less arduous setting. There was no teaching quite like experience and the looming threat of death at a wrong decision.
Chir didn't know the names of plants like Sironar. He had no knowledge-base of where things grew or why or how, but he knew which plants were edible and which were harmful simply by being exposed to them time and time again.
What's it like to camp with a dragon? the boy wondered. Do you make a shelter or find shelter? Do you sleep under the stars, Malvayth? Or on the tops of Skybrooms? I bet they'd make good perches.