[Lyra Greenleaf]

I know. [img]smilies/wink.gif[/img] When will this mutiny be happening? I don't even know why I'm asking since I won't be back for a week and then it might have already happened. Sorry, I'm rambling but it's 1 in the morning. Could this go in one of the save spots please?

YOUR POST HAS BEEN PLACED ON THE GAME ~~ PIO

“…I never saw her again”

Sammael laughed loudly at the Thorgom’s story- perhaps louder than it deserved. The man was, to say the least, odd but certainly better company than Zasfal who was currently looking daggers at the pair of them. Essenia had not spoken a word for hours, maybe worn out by her uncharacteristic whole sentences earlier. The man sitting perched on the cart in front of him had helped to make the journey slightly more bearable, but now Sammael was ready to drop. His laughs were forced now, and came out in rasping gasps. It had been three hours since he himself told a story, and even Zasfal had stopped moaning as breath became more and more laboured.

With a jerk that knocked Sammael off his feet the cart stopped. Struggling to regain his feet Sammael felt himself pulled up by Thorgom. He smiled thanks at the tribesman, who grinned back then turned to Zasfal who was still trying to stand. Sammael panted quietly, hoping against hope that they had reached the end of the day’s march. Rahvin approached the cart, and instinctively Sammael tried to breathe quieter and more evenly, straightening his back and trying to look calm and collected. He did not know if he fooled the man- likely not- but the pretence made him feel better. Rahvin cut first his, then Zasfal’s ropes silently, sheathed his knife and began to walk away. Resisting the temptation to rub his sore wrists as Zasfal was, Sammael called out.

“Will the punishment continue tomorrow?”

The faintest vestige of a sardonic smile crossed Rahvin’s face as he turned back to face Sammael, but not a word passed his lips. Muttering, Sammael kicked the cart, unsettling Thorgom as he did so. Smiling he offered the man his hand, but winced as he grabbed it. Pain shot through his fingers to his neck. Gingerly he picked up his bags from the wagon and walked to a suitable tent site.

With a grimace he saw Thorgom follow him, but then felt ungrateful and welcomed him with a smile. Over his shoulder he saw Zasfal watching him malevolently, obviously still blaming him for being punished. As some sort of defiance- although he knew not what, unless it was to make Zasfal jealous of his contentment- he began talking loudly and cheerfully to Throgom.

Without the distraction of being dragged along by a cart, he began for the first time to wonder seriously where Damodred was. He hoped they had not chosen him for punishment, because he suddenly realised that that would upset him. It was far easier to appreciate the old man when he was not around looking sourly at him.

No wonder these people think I’m soft,
Sammael thought with a sigh.

Thorgom looked at him quizzically. The story he was in the middle of telling obvgiously had no need of a sigh. With a grunt of apology Sammael collapsed on the ground, where a sort of sleep washed over him.

[ August 02, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]