A twenty year old woman was riding a reddish brown pony along the fringes of the rocky mountains. Her pony easily sprang along the rocky terrain, faithfully carrying his mistress at high speed along the ground. The woman's long, elegant brown hair was braided into a single strand that bounced against her back along with a billowing, white cloak that flew out behind her with her high speed.
Come on King, I think we lost him. Let's head behind that outcropping over there and then I'll find you some nice grass. Anya patted King's neck as he eagerly cantered forward another several hundred yards.
Woah. Good boy, King. He's gone. For now... She dismounted and led King over to a grassy patch between some rocks. Ick. Scruffy grass. Better than nothing, though. Anya gave King another pat and then looked around for a good place to sit...
AH! Anya had stumbled across what looked like a battlefield, only a few days old. Ugh, why didn't I smell this earlier? She wrinkled up her face in disgust, but her curiousity made her keep walking.
She knew how to read the signs in grass, stones, and footprints. Ewww. By what I figure... there were three men, I think, that headed toward this cave, they came in over there... a windstorm? Somebody had wind magic, that bush is shredded. Then they came out through this way, apparently. Oh...oh no... there were black-robed men here. They were in the cave, it looks like. There was a fight between the black-cloaked men and... hmmm. Anya pressed a handkerchief to her nose as she walked around, and her eyes widened when she came across a woman's corpse a good distance from the dead black-cloaked men.
Anya paused. I think I ought to bury her. And...well, I suppose she won't mind now if I take her things. The guys in black I don't think I'll bother with...
Anya reverently took the woman's pack and the wooden medallion from around her neck and laid them to the side. She took a spade from King's saddle and dug a grave briskly, giving Myrda a proper burial. When she was finished, she held out her hands and said a quick spell. An ice tombstone raised itself in front of her, carefully preserving the wooden medallion that had been around the woman's neck in the ice. If anyone knew her name, they could put it here, I suppose. Rest in Peace, miss. You had a kind face... I don't think I've seen many corpses with a faint smile. Thanks for the stuff.
Feeling disturbed, Anya slung the dead woman's pack over her back and walked back to where she had picketed King. Her pony was munching happily on the tough grass, content for now. Anya knelt down and dug through the pack. She mused aloud to King Ooh, that's nice. A full water bottle, some jerky and travelling biscuits... string, that's handy... eh, what's this? Anya reached into the deepest corner of the pack and pulled out a little frosty block. Uh... it's a stack of folded papers frozen together. Weird, eh King? King twitched an ear and kept munching. Anya looked in the direction of the bodies and then back at the papers. This could be bad. I think I'll hang on to this... Anya stuffed all of the pack's contents, including the frozen paper pack, into King's saddlebags.
Anya gave her pony a friendly pat. Come on King, let's find a less... gruesome... place to stay the night, shall we? She swung up onto King's back. Heeyah! King pricked up his ears and eagerly took off.
~
Anya rode away south as the sun began to set with brilliant colors in the distance. The dead black-robed men still lay where they had fallen, and Myrda's tombstone stood cold and silent, reflecting the last fading rays of the sun.
Sun Aug 10, 2008 12:33 pm