The Seer and the Tracker: Part 2

Location: North Woods

Characters: Heskra, Enid

Four days and three nights have passed since the day when Heskra's horde passed through this clearing, assimilating thirteen out of the sixteen living members of the Juskasol and staining their faces with the Juskaskor knots. Now, as the sun sets on their final day in this place, only two Juskasol remain: the ferret chieftain, and the muted ermine scout. When the stain artists had come to their tent, Enid had taken a load off their paws by staining her cub's face herself, either because she didn't want the beasts touching her son, or to show some solidarity to the clan until such a time that she stained her own fur. She has little doubt that the vulpine warlord will outright kill her own chieftain, but while the ferret lives so does the Juskasol. Not that the ermine has been wasting the five days allowed to her, though. She's spent most of her time absent from her and Heskra's waiting place, instead preferring to scour the woodlands for... something. Whatever it is, she has yet to communicate it to the vulpine, preferring to leave him in the dark about her quarry. The mystery of her hunt is quickly unraveled tonight though, because the ermine emerges from the trees with a dead shrike thrown across one shoulder, a small smirk of triumph twisting her mouth.

For the Juskaskor, at least, the assimilation seems to have been relatively painless, the older members knowing full well what's going on and what they're meant to do, while the younger ones reminding constant reminders in the form of cuffs, snarls, and reprimands from their superiors that there's no rival clan anymore, merely a new cluster of Juskaskor. Naturally, Heskra has taken some interest in the staining process, watching as many as he can see, and taking particular interest in Enid and her son's staining. He takes her unwillingness to let his horde do the staining themselves as a last hoorah for her old clan, and this as much as anything else convinces him that killing the old chieftain is the right choice. While he lives, the Juskasol can still exist, but dead? Dead, the Juskasol no longer exist in anything but a stain on the cheek fur of the remaining clan members. If Enid has spent her five days in activity, Heskra has been doing the opposite. To a casual observer, he's been doing little more than sitting and smoking, with occasional short and rare breaks to cure more bracken, eat, sleep, and practice his flailwork. By far, the last is his most often performed deviation. But to a more perceptive beast, it can be seen that Heskra has not merely been indulging in a habit, but rather he's been in a strange state of meditation that places him into utter silence. While he sits in the shade of a tree, he's not truly staring off into the distance; despite his eyes being open, they are not aware of his surroundings, nor do they seem to truly be seeing anything. There is a distant quality to his entire being during these times, as though he's managed to somehow leave his body behind and walk off in spirit. When these moments end, the change is abrupt. All of a sudden, Heskra is back, regaining his very soul and becoming animated once more. At the time that Enid comes back with her slain shrike, Heskra is not in this state, however, and he sees the dead bird, asking, "What's 'at fer? Don' t'ink 't's fer eatin', is 't?" The question is not posed as a challenge, but rather a bit of genuine curiosity.

During the times that the warlord had slipped into his meditative state, Enid was usually no where in sight, but that's not to say that the ermine didn't take notice of his strange behavior. Any born Juska knows the power of a true seer, and Enid had never fancied accidentally rousing the vulpine from his strange state, preferring to instead fade into the woodlands and wait his visions out. The ermine is inwardly pleased to see that Heskra is alert upon her return, which leaves her free to perform her own ritual tonight without fear of startling the vulpine's soul. His question brings a slow shake from her head, and she lets the shrike fall to the ground before seating herself next to the fire. To prove that the bird is certainly /not/ for eating, Enid unties a loop of cordage at the rear of her belt onto which two trout are strung by the gills. The lion's share of the catch she offers to the vulpine, keeping the smaller of the two for herself.

Heskra had thought as much about the shrike. One doesn't bother to go out and catch a large bird like that when a simple woodpidgeon will do for a meal, and be easier to snare to boot. The fox pushes the trout back to Enid's chest, and he gives a shake of his head while jabbing his thumb back at the tree he's been using. Next to it is a small store of various foodstuffs, the fox having spent so much time in his meditative state that he hasn't been eating enough to use up his small stock. Still, it doesn't seem to have taken any toll on his health, as if the fox is used to these fasting periods. With Enid unable to explain herself and Heskra thinking that the reason for this shrike being caught may have a certain gravity to it, Heskra contents himself with watching silently, standing nearby and pinning his keen eyes on Enid's movements.

Whatever the shrike's purpose, it'll have to wait for the moment. Enid takes the trout back with only a slight narrowing to her eyes, and if she were capable of speech she might remind the vulpine that they've a strenuous journey ahead of them, and it would be better to eat while there's still time. But the ermine sees no means of conveying this without going into an overly complex series of pictographs, so she lets the issue slide. There is one thing that she's wanted to ask the fox, though: did he actually see her in some sort of vision? The last few days she's mulled over the best possible way to pose this question, until finally, after a great deal of frustration, she decided how to do it. Waiting until she's sure she'll have his attention for a few seconds, she point to him and then taps under her eyes with two claws, and then she taps herself in the chest and waits to see if her meaning gets across.

No doubt that if Enid tried to remind Heskra about the journey, that would have been waved away just as easily. The fox is in no mood to tends to flesh needs at the moment after spending so long amidst his visions. At the very least Enid does have Heskra's undivided attention, the fox standing up and looking at her with alert eyes. The question is, surprisingly, understood immediately. After everything he's said and done over the past few days, it's only natural that Enid should wonder about herself in relation to his visions. "Aye, I saw ya, afore I got 'ere. But not... not clearly. Nothin' in visions is e'er 'at plain. I saw a speshul beast, 'un 'at I'd need, an' I saw 'e red mouf an' 'eard 'e babblin', but 'e res' was cast inta shadow. Couldn' make out anythin' else, 'cept where ta go ta fin' ya. Got 'e strongest feelin' fer 'e North Woods, an' I came, an' 't seems 'e vision was righ', an' e'erythin' paid off, didn' 't?"

Enid listens attentively to the fox's every word, pale eyes locked onto his the whole time that he speaks. Whatever her own feelings about having a warlord led straight to her via some vision, the ermine can't argue that something must have drawn the fox to come north. She would like to know what special purpose the vulpine sees her fulfilling, but that's another daunting question that will require some thought. Instead, the jill busies herself with piling a few more logs onto their fire in preparation for the shrike, her mind continuing to mull over his words. His mention of having to come to the north woods bears some merit, as if to suggest that the vulpine isn't at all native to these parts. Another glaring clue comes to mind in the form of his horde marching south into mossflower. Armed with that knowledge, she gestures south and then points to the fox once more, trying to establish some link between the two.

Indeed the fox is not from the North Woods, though he does not seem to be put off by the strange surroundings, though this may, in part, be due to him already having "been here" before, in a less tangible sense. Heskra's eyes lock with Enid's once he realizes she's staring at him, and for the moment, his attention to the shrike and whatever it's going to be a part of is broken. Something about this little ritual makes the fox think that this is something that Enid wants to do alone, and so he does not offer his assistance with either the wood or with anything else. By a lucky guess, Heskra guesses just what Enid's asking, and gives his answer. "Aye. 'm from 'e south. Mossflower Woods ta be specific. Nice place ta live, an' plenty af woodlan'ers ta raid when we need ta. Still, my 'orde keeps 'eir heads low. We don' like 'ttractin' too much 'ttention."

Judging by the slow nods that follow, Enid can appreciate the more subtle nature of Heskra's clan. The Juskasol, in its days of hunting seals on the coasts, had fitted Heskra's description rather well. It wasn't until the arrival of a new chieftain and several raids along the coast that they'd attracted the attentions the mountain hares. Enid's own preference has always been for the Northlands, where the harsh terrain keeps beasts from growing soft, but word of this Mossflower seems to intrigue her, and with a small beckoning motion she attempts to convey her desire to hear more. While she waits for the fox to figure out her meaning, the jill loads the last of the wood onto the fire, letting it slowly build into a heat that suits her needs. Then dragging the shrike closer by one of its legs, she splays its wings open before drawing her axe and with a sickening snap hacks off one of its wings.

A smile is allowed to flit across Heskra's muzzle at Enid's apparent understanding of how his clan will operate and her seeming approval of it. In the past, he's had some difficulty with newer recruits not being used to Heskra's rules and policies for his horde, and there was often some harsh discipline given out to them until they fell in line. It's likely that Heskra's never been up North, but it's also just as likely that he's seen his share of hardship; what else could force a seer, who so often remains in the background, to take up the position of horde leader? The gesture is easy enough to understand, and Heskra continues. "'e winters 're mild, an' a 'orde kin survive off af 'e lan' easy enuff 'f 'ey're clever 'bout 't. 'clude what ya get from raidin' 'e smaller towns an' villages, an' a 'orde kin live a good live 'ere an' not 'ttract too much 'ttention. 'e shrews an' otters're 'e only /true/ t'reats. 'ey don' give much quarter 'f 'ey catch a 'orde."

The shrike's remaining wing is removed in a similar manner whilst the vulpine describes the hordes' home. The bitter winter and scarcity of food in the Northlands had never truly had much of an impact on the jill, but her cub would certainly find the warmer weather far more enjoyable. While she ponders this new information, the ermine hoists the wingless shrike back onto her shoulder and carries it out of sight and into the trees. After a few minutes she returns, this time empty handed. Taking her seat back by the now roaring fire, she draws her knife and sweeps away a section of pine needles in preparation for a new pictogram. She takes her time in creating this one, trying to imagine what the structure might look like from the stories. The finished result appears to be a wall of some sort, with a gate in the middle and a tower set to one side. Enid's eyes glance up at the fox, and then back down at her pictogram. She frowns. Perhaps deciding that the fort needs some color, she pulls one of the shrike’s severed wings to her, tips it up over the pictogram, and proceeds to run her knife down the length of the wing bone until a small trickle of blood oozes down onto the fort, staining it red...

The removal of the bird's wings isn't shocking so much as it is strange to Heskra. After all, he's seen plenty of birds being gutted, but the wings have meat on them, meat that /someone/ would want to eat. Still, the ritual isn't questioned, as this is clearly something that Enid's been doing for some time now, and beasts who form habits like this tend to hate being questioned about them. This is certainly true for Heskra, after all. This new pictogram is given as much attention as the last few, and Heskra's brow furrows in concentration and puzzlement. At first, the wall means nothing to him, nor does the gate and tower, but the very moment the shrike blood is used to stain the drawing red, Heskra nods and reaches down, jabbing a claw into the bloodied dirt. "Redwall? Is 'at what yer drawin'? What 'bout Redwall?"

Enid points to Heskra, then taps underneath her own eyes, and taps a claw against the representation of Redwall. Her use of blood to indicate the abbey's color was a bit of an afterthought, but the jill is glad to avoid naming colors with scratches in the dirt. Mostly, Enid is interested in knowing if the abbey is as much of a death omen as the Northland stories have always declared it, but that's a fairly long and complicated question, so she settles for asking if the vulpine has ever seen Redwall instead. While waiting on her answer, the jill seizes a handful of wing feathers and rips them out. She sets these to the side before piling both wings together and lowering them into the flames.

The question that Enid is trying to ask Heskra is misinterpreted, as the last time she indicated eyes, she was talking about visions, and naturally Heskra thinks that she's asking about visions again. "'ve not 'ad too many visions 'bout Redwall... mos' af 'em're jus' tellin' me ta not get inta any fights wi' 'em, an' 'at doin' so'll be 'e deaf af me." Heskra shrugs. "Suits me jus' fine. Never intended ta do somethin' 'at'd draw 'at much attention. 've 'eard 'e stories 'bout what 'appens ta warlords who try ta attack 'at place." This next stage of the ritual is something of a distraction, and Heskra watches the burning of the wings with a great deal of interest, the entire thing firmly cemented into his mind as a ritual, though one that's of no concern to him. It doesn't seem to be anything designed to affect him in any way.

Misinterpreted as it was, Heskra's answer seems to suggest that he's no more familiar with the abbey than she is, so she lets the topic drop for now. She watches the wings smoldering in the flames, her typically stiff visage softening and her mouth parting to release a contented sigh past her ruined tongue. The immediate area slowly filling with the stench of burning feathers and bird flesh, Enid tears her eyes away from the fire to look up at the warlord, possibly gauging his reaction to her ritual.

Now that the ritual is fully underway, Heskra's reaction has changed almost entirely. It's gone from interest to a sort of intense stare, the fox reaching up and playing a finger over his lip, plucking at it idly as he stares at the burning bird wings, as though he expects to get more from the display than just a strange sight. Eventually, he gives a frustrated shake of his head and looks from the burning wings up to Enid. Clearly this is something that his own powers cannot cover, and thus he gets nothing from the ritual except puzzlement.

Enid reads his frustration in the fox's eyes more than anything else. She puzzles over a way to explain the slow course of her ritual to the seer, who is probably more accustomed to quick results form his rituals and meditations. Truthfully, the end to this ritual will not come until dawn and the last embers of the fire have died. Only then will she anoint herself with the ashes. To give the fox some indication of this, she clears a new patch in the forest floor and scratches the sun with an arrow arcing over it, the same pictogram she used to express the passage of time in their earlier conversations.

A slow burn to visions, rituals, and meditations is nothing unusual for Heskra, but his complete inability to feel anything from this ritual has irritated him, showing him just how finite his powers can be. They work within his narrow scope and do not extend outward, and that is all. Now that he's familiar with the "passage of time" pictogram, he nods once to her and then once to the pyre. "'ere's more ta do in 'e mornin'?"

Enid simply nods in response to his question. Going into the use of the ashes would be practically impossible using gestures or pictograms, and even then she still has no hope of explaining the purpose behind the ritual. With a heavy sigh she takes her eyes off the fox and lets them slide back to the fire. Whatever thoughts are cascading through her head, they bring a grim twist to her mouth and she closes her eyes, letting the warmth of the fire wash over her. When she next opens them it's to point at the fox and then over to his bedding. She then draws a much longer arrow over the pictogram of the sun. She will stand vigil over the fire all night, but perhaps she thinks it best for the vulpine to shut his eyes before the hunt begins.

It's entirely likely that the ritual will forever be out of Heskra's grasp, considering Enid's inability to explain it. Still, he seems content enough with allowing her to do it, if it gives her some kind of comfort or power that helps her with her special talent. He smirks at her unspoken command to get some sleep; it's sensible, and he /is/ rather tired after so much sleepless meditation. "Aye, yes, mum. 'm goin' ta bed righ' now." He slinks back to his bedroll and lays down, letting out a sigh as he lets himself lapse off to sleep. Enid hasn't slaughtered him during his meditations, nor has he gotten any visions of her doing so, and so it's easy enough for him to fall asleep with her nearby.