Watch your Step

Orange and white, a blur skipping through the heavy foliage of the boreal forest. Pines and burrs briefly stuck to the cervine’s coat as he bounded through the brush, headed back to the small shelter he and his companions used. He’d gone out to find firewood, a bundle tied to his back and a few kindling twigs and dried brush in his arms, losing a few with each jostling bounce over a tall thorny bush or fallen log. Despite this, the centaur still held enough for its purpose. Starting a small fire for the kettle, Wyrran planning on cooking up a nutritious soup in anticipation of colder weather to come. He was excited to taste the fruits of their labors, the small group keeping a plot of crops going, learning to grow tomatoes, corn, leafy greens, radish even. The carrots were a bit small, but flavorful and they had a decent harvest of potatoes. Tiernan wasn’t sure what all would be added, but Wyrran would work her magic to make the dish flavorful with a sprinkling of seasonings to top it off.

He’d smile to himself at the thought of a delicious aroma filling the shelter, waiting with anticipation. His distraction had him forgetting to look where he was going, and with a knee not clearing a log he’d hear a thunk and a slight pain before he tumbled forward, somehow managing to roll despite his gangly shape, avoiding further injury. The deer centaur would sit up once he’s stopped his tumble, realizing he’d fallen down a slight embankment. His bundle of wood still with him, albeit muddy, and the fire-kindling spread about the muck he sat half buried in. The mud had softened his fall, but as the deer tried to stand he’d find his limbs sinking into the soft ground. He was stuck.

“Oh- drat.” he’d mutter, looking around for anything to grab. The shore was just out of reach, and he’d pick up some of the kindling, tossing it to the dry bits of dirt before trying to trudge forward- he made it a few steps with great  effort, sweating and tiring. This wasn’t going to work. A survey of the area showed no one around, and with a frown the stag would call out, cupping his hands to amplify the sound. Maybe someone would hear him.

“HELLO! I’m stuck in a bog! Anyone there? I need help!” He’d call a few times with no response, fighting the mud to make it the last few feet out. Then while fighting the sinking, he’d hear a voice, calm and serious, from the land. He’d lift his eyes to meet that of an equine woman, a bow looped around her shoulder. Her coat was a dark coal color, with vibrant orange stripes and a mottling of white patches. She’d consider him with bright green eyes, before tossing over the end of a rope. A woman of little words, the equine would gesture then to grab it. Tiernan did so with little hesitation, looping the rope around his torso and back end. Once it was secured, and he had a firm grip of the rope, the equine would take a few slow steps back.

He felt the rope tighten and his body loosen from the much, she was freeing him with so little a perceived effort. As the momentum build she would move back at a quicker pace, until the tabby marked-deer was free, knees on dry solid ground. He’d let out a relieved sign, standing up after a moment’s breather.

“Thanks for the help! I would’ve been stuck for a bit if you hadn’t showed up!” He’d smile at her, noting she didn’t share the look, but regardless she’d saved his hide.

“I’m Tiernan, who are you? I haven’t seen a striped horse before -” The woman would watch him for a moment, coiling her rope and looping it around a belt with a horn, securing it along with her quiver and other supplies.

“Ailen. Best watch your step in the future. Seen plenty tumble down hills and fare less fortunate than you. You’re lucky.” Maybe it was for his cat-like pelt, a marbling of orange and white, like a tabby, he had nine lives.

Tiernan would offer a shy smile, leaning over to check his sore knee and then pick up what was left of the kindling. “Yeah- say, I have someone back at my shelter who is going to cook up some good soup, did you maybe want to come over and have some. It’s the least I could do and I’m sure Wyrran- the person I stay with, wouldn’t mind. You helped me afterall! So a friend of a friend is also a friend!”

At first the equine would watch him, seeming disinterested, he’d almost lose hope but she’d finally speak, “That sounds nice. Show the way?” She could make sure he didn’t get stuck in anything else on the way back and a nice warm meal sounded nicer than eating some dusty roots or dried jerky. With a nod the orange and white cervine would start off towards the house, striped equine close behind.

[WC 859]