She probably should do as she was taught, and remain battle ready since she was alone in unknown territory. But she shrugged off the idea. Being as high on the mountain as she was, it was unlikely that an attack would come.
The boys had said that Kalisa always gestured at this path when she told her tales. She would follow it as high as it went, and start there.
It was a hunt, just like any other.
But a wave of joy passed through her, and she grinned at the dying coals. She might be mad, but it was her madness, her truth. She was where she wanted to be.
She drifted off, and dreamed of blue skies and the beating of feathered wings.
Five days later,she’d lost some of that joy.
Amyu sagged down by her small fire, in another cave she’d found fairly early in the afternoon. The storm clouds had appeared over her head with little warning, another aspect of mountains she didn’t care for. But she’d enough warning to gather firewood and water, and made her small camp in this cave. She’d checked it thoroughly, but it was dry and empty, thank the elements. With plenty of wood, she set out dry, long sticks that would break if stepped on. If anyone or anything approached, she’d have warning.
The rain started before she had the fire going.
She took out beans from her precious stash and ground them for kavage. She’d earned it this day. She set the small pot in the fire, and then stripped off her leathers. The stones were cold under her rump as she examined her leg.
The gouge ran the length of her calf. Not deep, but painful. Amyu took some water and started to wash it clean.
Mountains weren’t flat; no single step was on even ground. Mountains had rocks that moved under your feet, and underbrush that tangled you and blocked your path. Young trees, sticky with sap and rough bark, that you had to make your way around. Old, dead trees with branches that tore through leather and ripped your skin.
And the wind… Amyu lifted her head as the wind picked up outside, moaning and sighing like the dying.
She drew a deep breath, and tried to ignored the sounds. She’d never been this alone before. On the Plains, there were always fellow warriors around, sharing tents and fires. There was little privacy, and one was rarely this alone. This isolated. Even in Xy, in the castle, you might be alone in a room, but there were sounds of others around you.
Here, the silence was what surrounded her. Silence except for the moaning of the wind, which seemed a constant in the mountains.
Amyu shivered, then grimaced as she rinsed her leg. Thanks to the foresight of the Warprize, she had bloodmoss in her pack. It would be a simple thing to heal.
The tear in her leathers was another thing. She’d nothing to repair that with.
Steam rose from the kavage pot. Amyu shifted it a bit deeper into the fire. Kavage would help, with her headache and her mood, and her overall soreness. Everything hurt. Her feet, her ankles, her hands, still sticky with some of that sap, and rough where she’d climbed over rocks.
She’d no luck hunting, and with the rain there’d be no meat for her meal this night. Her supplies were running low. She’d eat the last of the bread and hope for better luck early.
There was game, but the mountain rabbits were fast. The goats she’d seen, balanced on the sheerest of edges, had just looked at her with disdain and climbed impossibly higher.
She’d not thought to bring a bow.
Amyu pulled her leather trous over, and looked at the tear. She could cut strips and rig a sling. Skies knew there were enough rocks around for her to throw. But she didn’t want to widen that tear. Maybe she could sacrifice a strap from her pack.
Amyu shoved the pack away, her headache made all the worse for thinking about making a decision. The golden sparkles at the corners of her eyes glittered brightly. She resisted the urge to rub at the itchiness. That only made it worse.
The kavage was at a rolling boil. She used the edge of her blanket to pick it up, blowing at comforting steam as it rose to her face. The warm, bitter scent was a comfort all by itself.
Because, if truth be told, she needed comfort. She’d seen no sign of airions. Not on land, not in caves, not in the sky. She’d seen scat, and tree scrapings, and feathers, and tufts of fur, but nothing that she could justify calling signs of her prey.
She sipped her kavage, and the liquid stung her tongue. No comfort there, then, or in the truth. Amyu felt her confidence wane as surely as the moon.
She heaved a sigh, set the kavage aside, and dug through her pack to pull out the bloodmoss. See to her wounds, drink her kavage, and then sleep.
The sun would bring another day, and she would start again.
The crack ofa stick outside.
Terror woke her.
Amyu rolled out of the blankets, crouching, her sword and dagger in hand, before she was even fully awake. She froze then, her heart racing.
