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 Posted: Thu Apr 10, 2014 7:24 am
** Hate and Betrayal - Solo- 1235 words **
Ruelash scowled at the group of men. "What do you all want?" he growled, sitting up with some minor effort. He was healing quickly and he couldn't wait to be on his feet with blades in his hands. In the meantime, though, he was being kept - occasionally forcibly by very determined healers - to his bed until he had healed. They did let him out to take care of his aldabuck, at least, and he usually managed to get a few pushups in before they caught him. He didn't care about long term, but they'd at least convinced him that if he didn't rest now he'd be out of his next fight quicker, which was not something he wanted. If he was fighting, he wanted to be in it, not out at the first few hurdles.
So, he was stuck in this stupid healing tent and, having few if any friendly acquaintances (let alone friends), he didn't get many visitors other than nagging healers. And now, these assholes.
"We've got a proposition for you, 'Alsh." said Gudfrey, the leader of the group. The group of 4 adult Ice Tribe warriors were the closest thing to friends that Ruelash had, without actually being his friends. They'd taken him under their metaphorical wings, taught him how to be a proper Ice Tribe man, trained him, and arguably tamed him into a fierce warrior for their tribe. They were his role models, and he had learned a lot from them. Heck, he'd even mellowed out a bit. They were very important to him, like Veshki had been, though nobody could ever take the place of his brother in his vicious little heart.
Normally, he trusted them. "Yeah? What?" he asked. Something about the gleam in their eyes and the hardness in their faces as they stood before his bed, bandaged, bloodied, and scarred from the battle, made him uneasy. He hid it with his usual bad temper.
"Well, seeing as how this little Tendaji alliance is probably going to lose anyway, I figured we might as well be on the winning side. Me and my boys are going to go join the Obans and fight for them." Said Gudfrey, as pleasantly and calmly as if he was just talking about the weather. In Ruelash's mind, he sort of was. It was not a physical weather like a blizzard, but it was still as jarring as a Sautian wind.
Ruelash blinked. "Huh?" he said, confused, "Join... the Obans?"
"Sure. I hear tell that they're real nice to us folk that join them" said Gudrey, grinning. "They'll give us all kinds of perks. You know, boy, I don't much want to be enslaved." the others nodded, but they didn't speak. Ruelash was Gudfrey's apprentice. This was their discussion. "And even without that little detail." Gudrey shrugged, "Its still best to be on the winning side. Now." he gestured to the rest of the group. "We've all talked it over, and we've decided that we're going to head over today and join them if we can. We wanted to ask you first, though. So." his smile grew wider, as welcoming as it had been the day he and Ruelash had met. "Wanna join us?" he asked, holding out a hand.
Ruelash stared at him, too stunned to answer. He couldn't wrap his head around the idea of fighting for the Obans. He couldn't understand betrayal, not that kind. Why would they do that? How could they do that? He didn't understand, just as he didn't understand why Veshki had been afraid of him when he had fallen into the ravine.
"You could save yourself a lot of trouble, you know." continued Gudfrey “I mean, who wants to be a slave?" The others nodded. "Plus, if you were fighting for the Obans, I bet they'd be real nice to that pretty sister of yours. And that sister in law. And your pretty little nieces and that young nephew... You wouldn't want to see them hurt, would you? 'Course not." Gudfrey's voice became a seductive purr. "If you fought for the Obans, you'd have some leverage if they won. You could help your family. You want to help them... don't you?"
Ruelash didn't like to think about possibilities. Especially not about his nieces and nephew and sister (Ranla he didn't much care about either way.) Thinking about what could happen - with his limited imagination, only made him angry. He didn't like the uncomprehendable depths of depravity that his mentor was implying. He didn't like the way Gudfrey was talking to him. He didn't like the look in Gudfrey's eyes as he looked at him - it was intense and hungry and cold. Ruelash also didn't like the air of threat that was making his muscles tense up and his heart pound, his body readying itself as best it could for a fight. In other words, Ruelash did not like the idea of fighting for the Obans at all. And he was beginning to like Gudfrey even less. He glared at Gudfrey. "Go stuff 'yerself up a Mammu's a**." he snarled.
Gudfrey laughed. "Suit yourself." His outstretched hand turned into a fist and, before Ruelash could react, he reeled back onto the bed as the man punched his stomach. As he curled around the fresh bruises and pain, the group of men walked away. He coughed, spitting up a little, seething with rage as he listened to the men outside.
"Gudfrey, why didn't you kill the brat? We shouldn't have asked him in the first place, but now there's a witness..."
"Oh radakushit." said Gudfrey's voice, still calm as ever, "He's handy to have around and there was a chance he'd say yes. He didn't."
"No, he didn't. Thats a surprise."
"Not really. He's growing up, you know."
"Yeah, into a too-good-for-this-mortal-world person like his dung-eating brother."
"Pff. Apt." Ruelash heard laughter and wanted, very badly, to punch their lights out. And more. Talking about his brother that way... how dare they! Veshki was off limits.
"Anyway, I figure... he's young. Give him a chance to stew. Think about his nieces and nephew and sisters. Think about himself. Get beat up in war. That kind of thing. And then we come back later and offer him a chance again."
"You think that will work?" their voices were disappearing - they were getting away, the sons of capramel! He wanted to run after them and beat them up and tear their throats out and scream at their cooling bodies, but when he tried to move, his stomach protested, still clenched in pain. He grit his teeth in impotent rage.
"Oh yes." said Gudfrey's voice, distant now. There was more laughter, "And if not, we put him out of his misery."
By the time he could stumble to his feet and try to follow them, they were long gone. Wincing in both pain and frustration, he returned to the bed.
The next day, he began working out, having healed enough for the healers to feel confident in letting him exert himself that much. The rest of his recovery was faster than expected, driven by his churning, blazing will to fight. He would not be knocked out again. He would not fail again. He'd kill the Obans, and their monsters, and then he'd kill those men and make them eat their words about his brother.
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Posted: Sun Apr 13, 2014 7:07 pm
Red of Tooth and Claw ** Ruelash, Ikkio and Biroki
Response 1 is 255 words
Ruelash trudged through the Jahuar forest, hating every step. Direk trotted beside him, not particularly caring how he limped and stumbled. The mage's magic had healed his body, but he still needed rest to finish the job.
He didn't want to stay in this stupid forest for any longer than he had to, though. Not after what he'd had to go through. First the battle with the ugly brown freak, then the whole pack of Radaku, and then a stupid little lying brat of a child.
Ruelash was a fierce young man, and was well versed in nature being red in tooth and claw. And, even, icicle and stone. But this was a little too red with his own blood, even for him. He loved a good fight, but he was at the end of his patience with the jungle. He wanted to get his errand done and be home again.
It wasn't the fights he minded so much as the little girl. He hated that little girl, and normally Ruelash didn't hate little girls. His nieces, for example, were allright, and most of the other little girls back home either avoided him or weren't too bad. This one, though, had chewed him up and spat him out. And he hated her. He hated her so much. He used that hate to prop up his exhausted body as he made his way along the small path that promised to lead to the beast tamers hut. He would not forget that little girl.
No he wouldn't.
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Posted: Sun Apr 13, 2014 7:09 pm
After all that... ** Ruelash, Ikkio and Biroki
Response 2 is 149 words
Direk was fine.
That was good news, and Ruelash was grateful for it. The thought that his battle companion might be ill had been a disconcerting one, and it had haunted him for months and miles.
Apparently, though, she was just a grown up female aldabuck in heat.... which apparently meant she wanted to breed. That thought wasn't so settling, but now that he knew what it was he could train her accordingly. At least then she would stop bellowing randomly in the nighttime and pissing on things.
What was an issue was all the pain and suffering he'd had to go through to find out that nothing was wrong. A whole long trek across Tendaji, and numerous nasty Jahuar obstacles... It really hadn't been worth it.
And now he was heading home, to the blessed cool of the tundra and the rational brutality of its windswept peaks. And then... To war.
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Posted: Mon Apr 28, 2014 6:30 am
Two Peas in a Very Scary Pod ** Ruelash, Iroia
Response is 268 words
Ruelash had had fun. With a girl.
Ruelash didn't hate all girls, or all women, and he certainly respected them more than men, but they all - that is, all people - were capable of whining and grumping and being annoying and stupid and he generally disliked everybody.
But not this one. Iroia was a special girl - though he didn't really think of her as a girl very much. More like... a mirror, though that was a concept too complicated to hold in his head for very long. He liked her, not like he liked Winta, but in a very much not-hate sort of way.
It was nice.
The last people he'd not-hated in this way - though not nearly as much - had been the men who had become his family, in a way. The mercenaries that had taught him the value of other people and the unity and successes of working as a team.
They'd taught him that being with others was a fine enough thing. And then they'd left him to join the Obans. The Betrayals still hurt, as much as Veshki's death had - he hadn't been old enough to remember his mother's.
the bout with Iroia, though, had eased that, and he was happy to look forwards to another - never before had anybody ever wanted to get into a down-and-dirty fight with him AGAIN. She did.
Still, it did hurt.
It occurred to him that a death had marked all of his previous betrayals. Which meant that, clearly, he had to kill those traitor bastards.
And this time... he had help.
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Posted: Fri Jun 06, 2014 12:16 pm
Crossing the Border
Response is 177 words
Ruelash made his way down into Sauti, noting how the air seemed to change as he crossed the border.
To him, borders did exist. They were solid, the difference between safe snow-covered ground and dangerously thin ice, the difference between life and death.
In Zena, one step could mean all the difference. Here, too, in Sauti. And everywhere. It was not such a stretch to say that one step could be made in Zena and the other in Sauti.
Thus, there was a border. He just didn't consider it a barrier. He went where he pleased. He could dance the line between Sauti and Zena if he wanted to - just try and stop him.
Not that he bothered. He had a deadline - he had to go as far as he could before his supplies ran out, and then he had to get more supplies. Simple enough and brutal in a way he liked.
He led Direk behind him, and beyond a wisp of annoyance, thought no more about the annoying wind child he left behind.
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Posted: Sun Jun 08, 2014 6:59 am
** The Best way of Finding Supplies - Hunt - 257 words **Ruelash's new, fresh, dead-sailscale supplies were heavier than he'd thought, and he was uncomfortably aware of how the eggs he was carrying could slip out and break at any moment. The last thing he wanted was dirty eggs - they were the one food he'd had that could not handle a little dirt. Anything else, he'd eat, no problem. But dirty eggs? Eww.
Fortunately, just as he was starting to tire, he reached camp and was able to set down the meat and eggs by the coals. He slept then, finally worn out by his busy night.
That morning, he woke up early and set up the fire again, putting his old pan - from his brother - on top of it to heat. He set to butchering some of the sailscales, setting some meat - fatty cuts - on the pan to get it ready - that was the secret to flavoring the eggs and making them stick. He cooked them until all the fat was in the pan, chewing on the cooked meat as he began to cook some of the eggs. Not all of them - the eggs would keep if they were careful - but enough to give his friend and battle partner a real taste of omelets. As Veshki had intended.
He was very pleased with their new store of meat - it would last, he figured, until they were well into Zena - more if he smoked some of it. Not now, though.
Now... he was making omelets.
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Posted: Sun Aug 24, 2014 11:58 am
** A Bloodless Silence - Class Quest - 182 words **
The next day saw him packing fervently and on his way to the southern pass with Direk in tow. It was still the warm months, which meant that it was passable, and would save him some time on his way back to Jahuar. Iroia could catch up, and frankly that was the only person he thought would care, or that he cared if they thought at all. Winta was probably already near the battlefield and he honestly had no other people he knew and respected like that. It wasn't hard for someone of his experience and caliber to navigate Sauti's corridors, and he knew he would reach Tale within a few days, maybe less.
He left before morning dyed the snow pink and orange, but not before his nieces came to check on him. They brought breakfast, which he grudgingly accepted, a few things he was able to take with him – supplies, trinkets and all that – and one unusual item: a decent-sized woven branch basket.
And then he was off, into Sauti, on his way back to where he belonged.
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Posted: Sat Nov 15, 2014 10:19 am
** Glorious Mayhem – Meta Ch 6: The Final Battle Response- 180 words **
As Ruelash and Iroia slipped back to the Tale camp, it was all that Ruelash could do to maintain his stealth and not burst out laughing.
The 'scouting mission' had been glorious! So much blood and mayhem and chaos! It had been delightful to see the big beasts rampage, and watch the stupid southerners scramble all over themselves.
Idiots.
Good only to slaughter and bleed.
He looked forward to fighting them in battle. They would be the perfect prey: frightened and desperate. And fun.
This chaos? This was just his mark on the territory. He had killed one of their own. He had driven one of their beasts mad. He had shown them there would be blood – even more than in the other battles.
He wanted to giggle in anticipation, but he knew he could do that later, back in the camp. Or, even, later still, when blood was spilled on the ground. Either way, he knew that he and Iroia would have their meal of violence and adrenaline, and his blades would slake their thirst of blood.
Soon.
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Posted: Sat Nov 15, 2014 11:10 am
** Glorious Death – Meta Ch 6: The Final Battle Response- 466 words **
Ruelash laughed now, uninhibited by any concern or fear. His blades danced in his hands, their carefully sharpened edges slicing through anything that got in their way. Battle moved and churned around him, a mass of people and screaming and pain. The smell of blood, crystals, and sweat was thick on the air, and his side hurt from a gash that had arisen there without him knowing it.
He was home. This was his third battle, and he was used to the rhythm by now: a rhythm he didn't want to end.
He sought new prey amidst the turmoil – an Oban mage, casting spells at the approaching Tendajiians, their gaudy uniform striking in the bright, exposed sun.
Ruelash crouched, creeping up to the mage. They were intent, a point of calm inside the storm. Ruelash intended to change that.
Right as their spell – a fireball – went searing off towards the tendaji army, Ruelash pounced. His blade stabbed into the mage's shoulder, coming out quickly and cleanly. Ruelash had been aiming for his back and a quick, powerful kill, but no matter: this would do.
The mage choked a few words, turning to him.
Ruelash was smashed in the face by a magically propelled stone, his grin unchanged as he staggered back. “Yeah. That's right.” he growled, gleefully, “Fight back.” He dashed in, dodging the Mage's clumsy, bleeding swipe of their staff to slice a tendon in their leg. As their leg crumpled, he sliced the other. Kneeling, they wailed something, a curse. Ruelash raised an eyebrow, “Yeh? What?”
“Savage.” they snarled. Lightning, potent and supercharged, arched from their shaking fingertips at him. He dodged the shocking array, his arm searing as the lightning glanced it and flashed into the sky beyond.
“Aye.” he said, recovering, “Nice hit.” He swung his sword around with his momentum, “But that ain't enough to take me down.” His sword, flashing like a bloodstained and terrible fish, cut into their neck, slicing into and through it's layers of muscle, bone, and tissue with a slick, wet sound.
Their head, a horrified expression on their dark face, tumbled from their shoulders, it's hair tangling with the blood as it came to rest on the ground. Spurting, their now beheaded torso followed suit, bleeding on the ground, the red puddle soaking into the soil. It lay there, limp and dead.
Ruelash nudged the head with a foot and, playfully, gave it a kick. The head was a little heavier than he had been expecting, so it didn't go as far as he had thought it would, but it rolled at least, vanishing into the forest of stomping feet all around them.
“Bye.” he said, smirking, as he vanished into the fight to seek out a new victim.
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Posted: Fri Jan 30, 2015 10:42 pm
** Tis the Season - Versatile Prompt- 286 words **
Ruelash normally hated parties and left them feeling as though he had good reason to hate his fellow earthling. People sucked, and they were worse in big groups. They stomped the ground into dust and made so much noise. Iroia was okay, but even she was no substitute for the quiet solitude of the tundra, where his wild heart could be at ease.
Tonight, though, he didn't feel so bad.
It was that kid's doing, obviously. He'd always had a soft spot for kids, especially girls, and this one was a girl who he could relate to. No stupid childish simpering – just ferocity. He recognized it behind her grey eyes, in the grin she had when he had told her about battle.
He knew he'd found a kindred spirit that night, which brought him to two – when he had never thought he would even find one. He was not unique in the world, and he found that comforting. Solitary beast he may have been, but he was becoming at home with the idea of a pack.
Meanwhile, her father was forgettable, as was the Alkidike and the strange blue... thing... that looked so eerily familiar. If it had been just them and Iroia, this would have been like all the other crowded events he had been forced to attend.
Miserable. Useless. Loud.
But no, Sezarra had been there, and – oddly enough – he was looking forward to seeing her again. That itself was remarkable. But a lot of things about his life now were such, and he did not see his life returning to silent solitude anytime soon. Things were fun and dynamic, and he would just have to get used to that.
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Posted: Sat Mar 28, 2015 1:37 pm
** Rain isn't the only problem – Versatile Prompt - 155 words **
The bandits had given Ruelash quite a beating, an aching feeling completely incongruous with the comfortable (for him) bed and the belly warm and full with food. Ruelash wasn't sure how he felt about the help he had received, but being alive and not eaten by radaku wasn't so bad. Really, it wasn't.
He felt uncomfortably weak and infantile, so he curled up and tried to rest again, in the hopes that his next waking would be better, but he couldn't stop thinking about how badly that fight had gone. Next time he would kill that worthless scum.
This time, he had lost, and he had been protecting someone else.
Now when had he gone about doing that? He grunted, and wrapped the thin blanket around himself. Things were so complicated here in Jahuar. Complicated and hot. Someday, maybe soon, he would go home, to where life and death was clear cut and simple. Someday...
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Posted: Sat May 09, 2015 8:29 am
Stop yer Squalling ** Ruelash, Kiunyki
328 words
Ruelash's hands were covered in blood – again – from the woman, and so the first thing he did before he went about his business (which had been so rudely interrupted before) was to wash the blood from his hands. There was a stream near the camp, and that was what he used. The kid could clearly be left alone, and her mama wasn't going anywhere.
As the red from his hands stained the water, he grinned. It had been fun, though, hadn't it? Nearly killing the lady? He was in the right, of course: she'd attacked him, he'd fought back. He'd have been in his rights to kill the kid too for trying to stab him, which she had, twice. But he hadn't, and he wouldn't, and he was actually happy about that.
He scrubbed the blood from his hands carefully, revealing purple, then blue. He liked that kid, despite her being hardheaded and angry and not shutting up when she ought. She had spirit and life, something that he had learned was rare amongst the fearful, useless people in this world. She'd been scared of him, but she'd come at him and come at him until he'd made it clear that that wasn't going to work. If it wasn't bled out of her by her stupid... whatever alkidikes had... she'd grow up to be a warrior worth fighting. Maybe.
He shook his hands dry and returned to his camp, going about his chores with rough efficiency. Time would tell, though he'd likely never meet the brat again. And.. he glanced at her... that was probably for the better. He'd rather think that she'd grown up tough, than see that she'd wilted into a weakling.
He'd never thought this way before, never looked to the future and weighed it so. It was odd, it was new, and he didn't entirely dislike it even though it was complicated and made his head throb. It wasn't bad at all.
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Posted: Sun Aug 09, 2015 12:53 pm
** Longing for Ice and Snow
Solo; 1076 words **
Sometimes, Ruelash caught himself with a stray thought. This was a rare occasion for him in general, and so he took notice of it: Ruelash was generally not a thinker, preferring simple, short term solutions and further preferring ones that involved his sword or the straightforward demands of food and shelter. Thus, proper thoughts were momentous and notable. Even more notable was that this thought was a recurring one, a pining for home that Ruelash had never felt before, or at least, hadn't felt so extremely.
He sniffed the thick, scent-drenched air of Jahuar, taking deep breaths of it's moist heaviness before deciding that there was something missing in it, something he sought for with homesick longing. Amidst the sharp scents of leaves, rain, and decay, there was no note of frost or latent snow. Only heat and water and mud.
Ruelash shifted on his half-rotted, crystal-studded log as the crowded jungle rustled and shifted and screamed around him, and he thought of the stony solitude of Zena. He thought of it's cold mountains and it's unforgiving weather. He thought of the way new snow crunched beneath one's feet in the early morning after a blizzard, and the way the winds of the tundra seemed to cut into one's flesh like a knife. Most of all, though, he missed the sun.
Chi's merciful breath, he missed the sun.
Jahuar's lush canopy ate all but a small fleeting trickle of the sun's light, leaving the understory dim and vague with the false light of the trees. Ruelash was fine with darkness, and could handle it with ease when it came in the normal cycle of night and day. But Ruelash had spent so long in Jahuar's eternal dusk that he felt himself longing for the warmth of it's light on his skin and the hot glare of it in his eyes. He wanted it to sear the sky above him in golds and oranges. He wanted it to be there, real sunlight, not the false light of the forest.
Most of all, though, he simply wanted to be home.
This was not unusual, considering that Ruelash had always been extremely fond of Zena. He'd always felt that he was as much a creature of it as any raptrix or roati, attuned to it's harsh climate and fickle natures. It was only natural for him to wish to return to his element, to his natural habitat, and normally he wouldn't need to think on it any further. In fact, had he reacted to the thoughts when they had first started tugging at him, he would have long ago returned to Zena, without a look back at the jungle that had challenged his abilities and senses for a half year.
No, he had reasons to stay here that forced him to consider his desires closely. He was surrounded by people – people who, through some miraculous flickering of fate, he liked – and who likely would rather stay in the jungle:
Sezarra was a kid, but a smart one, growing up smarter and more interesting every time they hunted together. He wanted to show her the beasts in Zena and, maybe, get her away from the... male... she seemed to be pursuing. Ruelash didn't trust him. He didn't trust any males, really. But, that aside, he wasn't sure that, if he asked, she'd come with him. Her home was here, with her idiot father and her bustling family. That meant that this was her element, her natural habitat, and she might be as reluctant to leave as he was to stay.
Neska was an Alkidike. She wasn't the strongest fighter, but she understood him and he understood her, and he would have been happy to take her to Zena and show her how to fight and hunt and how to strengthen herself. And, well, to just spend time with her – it was refreshing, especially after dealing with idiots – that is, the rest of the Earthling world - all day. But, like Sezarra, Neska was a creature of Jahuar. Would she want to leave the jungle? He hoped she would, but feared she wouldn't.
Iroia... He wasn't sure about. They were kin of war, their blood shed together in battle, their backs watched by each other. Ruelash didn't like the thought of leaving her behind, but he thought that, if he went to Zena, he might have to. She had a... a... male was the only word he could think of to describe Votzhem. He knew they were together, and he didn't understand it at all. The half-Alkidike or whatever he was seemed nice enough, but he was male, and thus untrustworthy, and he looked uncannily familiar - Ruelash wasn't sure what to make of him, but he knew that Iroia and Votzhem were close – alarmingly close. The bond between them and the bond between him and Iroia was different, that much he comprehended, but it still made him feel uneasy – suppose she chose to stay in Jahuar with this half Alkidike, while Ruelash chose to leave?
And he would choose to leave, sooner or later. Ruelash had to return home, it was not negotiable. The ice of the tundra called to his blood, as did his actual blood. He had family in Zena, family he wanted to see even if he refused to admit it.
There was Jawaad, the sister who had been good to him... there was Ranla, the harpy that his brother had loved... his nieces and nephews and cousins... He wanted to see them, to fight with them, to exist in the same cold lands that they did.
The moisture in the air made his ears itch as he grumbled unhappily to himself, looking towards the direction of his campsite. He was sick of this place. He wanted to go home. And, he supposed, if he had to go without his packmates, then he would have to. That would have to be that, and if he didn't like it, he would have to just suck it up.
And he didn't like it at all.
He decided he'd ask them about it, starting that night, just to see where they were on this. If they wanted to come, then that would be excellent. If not, then maybe he could endure a few more weeks more here for them.
But then he would go, and he would just have to deal with the results.
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Posted: Sat Jan 16, 2016 10:31 am
** War
Meta Ch 7 Response ** 180 words
War. Ruelash loved war. That stupid mystic had had no right to barge into Zena and insult them. Sure, most earthlings were whiny morons, but still – that was like stomping into someones hut in a blizzard and complaining about the food. He bet that she – alone or with her posse – couldn't handle Zena. The idle thought – thought while waiting for his wounds to heal and his new blades to be wrought – was an amusing one. He hoped that that they came back – he would love to spill their blood again. It was fun, more fun than those stupid Obans. Women really were better than men, and Alkidikes were strong fighters. Especially that Red-painted one – she'd really kicked his tail. Hard. Apparently, she made off with his swords too.
He'd like a piece of her, especially.
Either way, though, he would not be lacking for a war. And that was what got him through the boredom of recouperation, and the agony of waiting for new weapons. That was all that got him through it.
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Posted: Sun Feb 14, 2016 3:26 pm
** Finding the Elusive Safety - Solo- 561 Words **
Ruelash didn't know how he stayed awake through the tumbling whiteness, or how he managed to take up the small body and protect her with his cloak. Had he done so before the avalanche hit? Had he done so after the snow blocked everything out? Either way, he had taken young Volkarosh into his arms, and he held her close to his shielding body as the avalanche thundered down.
He'd seen avalanches before, to be sure, but their thunder had always been outside. Away from him. He usually could avoid their fury by hiding beneath shelter as they passed. He had only seen the wall of tumbling snow and stones from the outside: He had never been within one.
Here, in the avalanche, was a different world, where Bergchi herself ruled supreme over all things. Her voice was the fall of snow and stone, and her judgement blocked the light of the sun. There was light here, though, within the tumbling, groundbound storm, but it was suffused everywhere, an icy white blue.
The color of death.
When it finally freed him from it's cloud of movement, and began to settle into something as ordinary as a snowdrift, Ruelash found that he ached all over. Still holding the child – warm against him, and thus alive – he tore his way free of the slumbering tomb of the snow and gasped in the disturbed, icy air. With one hand, he pulled himself free and lay there for a moment, feeling beaten and tenderized like a side of meat.
When his arms had mastered movement, he opened his coat to reveal the girl. She was unconscious, but he could see her breathing peacefully, puffs of vapor emerging from her lips. There were bruises forming on her brown skin, but she was alive. When Bergchi threw her wrath at you, that was all that you could ask for.
Groaning and cursing, Ruelash dragged himself to his feet. His wounds from the battle – an altercation that felt long in the past, now - bled, but he ignored them for the bruises forming all over his body as he picked up the unconcious child. He'd look her over properly for injuries later, but for now, shelter was what he sought.
He was in a forested valley of some sort, and he sought out the higher lands, stomping up a trail along a promising ridge. The forest, eternally snowbound and green, unfolded eerily beneath them, a source of mystery, wood, fuel, and food. He knew he was lucky – Bergchi was providing. And she provided further still – a cave appeared before him, cloaked by snow and stone. It's entrance was unremarkable, but he could feel air coming out from it. He eased himself and the girl through the crevice to find it was perfect. More than perfect – there were hides to sleep on, a firepit to warm them, and other things that spoke to the occasional occupation by hunters... not recent, though, from the looks of it. An abandoned campsite, a good place. Perfect for Ruelash.
He set the girl on a hide and wrapped her in another, careful to keep the hide's rotting bits away from her face. She would be warm while he made the cave inhabitable, did some scouting, and got his bearings...
Because he had no idea where he was.
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