Nyssa: Gearing Up #18

Nyssa carefully stoked the fire in front of her, adding small branches and dried pieces to the fire each time it began to die down. Evening had fallen over the Cerulean Forest and only the barest hint of sunlight filtered through the trees. The shadows stretched long through the forest, twisting in almost sinister shapes across the forest floor. Nyssa shivered slightly as a chilly breeze arose, moving closer to the flickering flames. Silas was curled at her side, his seemingly endless energy at last spent – for now, at least. It had taken some effort to keep Silas from accidentally singing himself on the open flame when she had first begun building the fire. He was far too eager to stick his nose into everything – including an active flame.

Sitting on the outskirts of the primary camp, she could hear many others completing their various tasks for the day. Since the Erisichthon had been spotted, there seemed to be a never-ending list of things to do. Night patrols to be sorted, food to be preserved, foraging to be completed, maps to be added to, fresh water to gather, training to complete, armour and weapons to repair – the list went ever on. Although she knew the full responsibility of no one task fell on her shoulders, Nyssa could not help but feel restless whenever she took a break – or a perceived break, in this case.

Nyssa threw another log onto the fire, listening to it crackle as she settled her hand over Silas’ head, giving him a few well-deserved pets. He made a soft, contented noise in his chest as he curled closer to her side. Although her companion could be somewhat hard to read, always appearing so full of energy and eager to help, Nyssa could tell the past few weeks was taking its toll on him. Overall, the mood around camp had seemed to become more somber as they waited for any word of the Erisichthon. It was becoming more and more difficult to keep an upbeat attitude as they waited for potential war.

Watching the crackling flame, Nyssa allowed herself to become lost in thought as she pulled her Rogue armour close around her. The heavy black cloak chased away the worst of the chilly air, becoming warmed by the heat radiating from the small fire. She pulled the dark hood over her head and fastened the heavy fabric over her face, content to bask in the warmth of the fire with the warm fabric enveloping her. Although allowing for greater dexterity, the fingerless gloves were not quite as useful in keeps the tips of her fingers warm, and she pulled them into the safety of the cloak as the temperature continue to a gentle chill with the setting sun. Nyssa kept an eye on the fire until it began to die down to only a layer of embers, only then pushing herself to her feet. She began to smother the remains of the fire, careful not to let any escape from the fire pit. Silas let out a chirp in complaint as the chill no doubt set in, curling himself into a tighter ball.

“Sorry bud, but I do need the charcoal,” Nyssa apologized as she thoroughly snuffed out the last of the glowing embers.

Once the embers had been allowed to cool fully, Nyssa produced a small mortar and pestle and began to collect some of the larger chunks of charcoal. The black soot stained her hands as she sorted through the fire pit, but she paid no mind to it as she crumbled it into the mortar. Adding a few more ingredients, she began to grind it together until it made a pure black paste.

“There we go, that should make some more ink,” Nyssa said as she carefully poured the liquid into another container.

[640 words]