Jonrik
"Ugh," the blacksmith grunted as he regathered the bundle of leafy boughs he had lost hold of when he tripped over a rock. The moist environment and his work had plastered his hair to his neck and face with light sweat, and he was tired of hauling materials to the shelter. Jonrik was not one to complain, though, and continued his task with only a slight grimace. As he neared the shelter, Jonrik started and almost dropped his parcel as he heard Audrunar calling through the trees.
"I think this is a fine spot, Jonrik. Not the spot I had in mind, but I guess this spot will keep us from travelers' stinging eyes." Jonrik made it to the shelter and dropped his bundle near the unfinished wall. Audrunar was burdened with logs, most wet from the environment: not that it mattered much. Wet wood could burn, it just took a little while to ignite and when it did the smoke would be darker than normal. Alva had not yet moved the camp here, though he suspected she would start on that at any moment, so Jonrik didn't object when Audrunar dropped the bundle near the shelter. He inspected the shelter and the area more before continuing, "I am guessing you'll want some spruce twigs after this, to cover the sides? Should I get them for you?" Jonrik hadn't been paying too much attention to the types of branches he had used, but it sounded like a good idea to use different types.
Audrunar started on getting spruce limbs before Jonrik answered, but he called to him, "Yeah, that's a good idea," just to keep comradery alive and not to seem rude. The blacksmith went to crouch near the unfinished wall and continue to intertwine branches to their optimal efficiency, but his eyes happened to glance toward the direction of camp to see a frightening sight. From where the shelter was, one could look and see where they had stopped on the riverbank through the trees and foliage. There was still a distance between the two spots, but he had the feeling if he yelled Alva could hear him. As he glanced over, the sound of a primal roar echoed from the bank, and he saw a large brown form hurtling toward the figures in the distance. From where Jonrik was, he could not see the camp as well as Audrunar, but he was still alert and heading off to his wife at a jog before the other said anything. Audrunar's words were lost to the wind as Jonrik finally realized the danger Alva was in and launched himself in the direction of the river.
Jonrik ran past Erika as she came to him and Audrunar, caring little for her plaintive cry in that moment. The beast had turned to Alva (and Faen too, but Jonrik paid him as little thought as Erika) and the fearful anger that pooled in his stomach was almost unfathomable. He noticed as Faen put himself between the woman and the bear, but the sight didn't comfort him and he hefted his ax as he got closer, watching as Faen chucked his catch at the bear's snout. It didn't do much but make the creature flinch, but it gave Jonrik the time he needed to swoop in and save Alva. As soon as he was close enough, the smith roughly shoved, more like threw, the woman in the direction of the woods. He quickly spun on his heels and waved his arms at the bear, moving a little bit farther away from Faen to give the bear more choice in target. Foolish, but Jonrik wouldn't blatantly abandon the man who would've saved Alva's life. Intentional or not Faen had indebted the blacksmith to him.
Alva
Alva smiled widely when Erika returned to camp, looking past Faen to take in the sight of the fortuitous catch. "Audrunar cannot take much longer to simply gather firewood," she said cheerfully to Faen. She leaned back to the firepit, but felt a deathly cold fear grip her bones as she caught sight of a huge brown bear striding, slowly but with deserved ease and confidence, toward them. As she opened her mouth to warn her companions, the whimpering sound was completely dominated by the thundering roar of the bear coming for the group. Alva scrambled to stand as the bear took a sudden lurch forward, barreling forward to Erika and her kill. Alva gasped in horror, backing away now that she was on her feet, as the beast swung at the huntress, missing only because she tripped over the prize of the evening: the buck.
Thunder rumbled in the distance, a minuscule concern in the face of immediate danger. Standing near Faen because of their previous proximity, Alva visibly flinched when the bear turned its dark, beady eyes for the pair. She pulled a shuddering breath to her lungs as she looked into the bear's eyes. Small and impossibly dark, they held no traces of thought or emotion, not even anger. Alva didn't object when Faen put himself between her and the bear. An effluvium of carrion and animal musk wafted from the creature, making it that much more horrifying and disgusting. An impossibly long moment stretched as Alva quivered, petrified. She didn't hear Faen's out-of-place laughter, only the bear's heavy breathing and her own terrified gulps of air, or see Jonrik and Audrunar returning from the forest, just the matted fur and rippling muscles of the brute in front of her.
The moment ended when Faen launched his trout at the bear's face. Alva would've laughed too had she not been so rooted by fear. Faen took the moment to shove her from the bear's path (not that she minded much, she was more than grateful to not be alone in that moment). She pranced away, keeping her balance until Jonrik came in from where she hadn't seen and tossed her farther. Then she had to clamber on her hands and knees to stand. When she finally reoriented herself, Faen and Jonrik were in front of the bear. Jonrik taunted it by waving his arms, and the sight of his ax reminded Alva to draw her shortsword. She reached to her hip and pulled the blade out in a smooth motion, but looked down at the object uncertainly. She doubted that her shortsword would be much help. Or any of their weapons for that matter.
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Working on my post now, should be up tonight
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Jonrik
As Jonrik departed to collect wood for a fire, Audrunar stopped him and spoke. "We need a place to sleep, Jonrik. I ask you to do this, not me, because Alva is your wife." Jonrik's eyes narrowed and he shot the other man a look out of the corner of his eye in confusion. Not only was Alva none of his concern, she had no problem spending the night on the ground. "... just because people got exiled with us doesn't mean they are one of us... I'm not sure about him. Do you know what they called him? The Lokison, cunning and deceiving." Jonrik had heard of the Lokison, but he hadn't made the connection to Faen before that. With a snort, he looked into the distance to the man squatting in the river. "A short sword at day doesn't protect against a knife in the dark." Jonrik wasn't really worried, especially in their situation. It wouldn't be hard to discern who had done what if physical violence was committed by one member of their small group. Plus, Alva was intelligent, even in the secrecy of their hearth Jonrik admitted that she was beyond him, so he wasn't worried about her getting manipulated. Jonrik honestly thought Audrunar was just handing off the task of creating a shelter to him because he didn't want to do it himself. As Audrunar turned away with a slap on the smith's shoulder, Jonrik repressed a roll of his eyes. Audrunar had been a little dramatic in Jonrik's eyes. Maybe the Lokison had dark intentions, but Jonrik doubted he would make any move with so little gains to be had at the moment. But he did note that Audrunar had chosen to view him as an ally.
As the blacksmith breached the treeline, he shook those thoughts from his head and focused on the task at hand. There weren't many easy shelters to make that would hold so many people, and the only thing Jonrik thought would work would be a round lodge. As thunder rumbled menacingly in the distance it reminded Jonrik that time was a factor, unless he wanted to be working in the rain. A round lodge would take more time to put up, and so he settled on finding a spot with two trees he could base a lean-to on. But a lean-to couldn't hold a fire like a round lodge and if the rain or wind switched directions it would be like not having a shelter at all. He looked around. Mostly in the area were large-trunked deciduous trees, with a spattering of birch and other similar species. There was sparse brush in this area. Jonrik went past the line of trees and out to where the foliage flattened. He looked down the brush line and started walking, trying to decide between the two. Then he saw something that made the decision for him.
Just down the line of trees from where the group had stopped originally, Jonrik could peer through the trees and see a fallen trunk in the distance. Jonrik went to it, and saw that in its fall it 's branches had gotten tangled with other trees, keeping the log firmly hanging several feet off the ground. Jonrik inspected it, and tested it by placing his hand on top of the log and trying to dislodge it. Even when he jumped onto it, it held firm. He paid close attention to where the branches of the fallen tree had gotten stuck in other, smaller trees. A large limb, the top of the trunk most likely, had wedged in the forked trunk of another tree. Nodding and moving down its length, he saw the upturned side of the tree roots had grass and small flowers growing on the dirt that had once been submerge in the earth. The tree must've been there for at least a season, and Jonrik was not worried it would move.
Jonrik, thinking of the potential of the tree, was grateful for a solution to his problem. The existence of the tree took much of his possible work away. He planned to make a two-sided lean-to off of this fallen log, with a few feet of one side left open to allow space for a fire. It would vent, but would have protection from the coming rain. He hefted his ax from his belt and planned to get to work. He turned in a circle, looking for a tree with limbs long enough to get from the wedged tree and the ground. He made for a large tree away from the river.
As he came to the large oak, he realized he was going to have to climb the beast to get what he needed. The trunk split close to the ground and went almost horizontally in one direction, and down that trunk were boughs the size he needed. With further inspection he saw they were too high for him to cut from the ground. With a sigh, Jonrik went to the V-shaped sprouting point of the oak. He jumped up with little difficulty and climbed on his hands and knees until he came to a branch he found suitable for the shelter. He hacked it down, awkwardly, and did the same for three other branches he found along his path. He carefully maneuvered back to the ground. He only had four main supports for the walls, and he had wanted seven. The other direction the trunk went was more vertical and harder to climb. He went to collect the ones he had cut down, and laughed at himself for forgetting the obvious. Large branches from the oak, these lacking leaves and most protruding limbs, had accumulated over time. He grabbed a large armful of long branches and dragged them back to their new campsite. He went about arranging them to lean from the wedged tree and the ground. One side went the length of the tree, and the other had a small entrance way and space for a fire. The whole group couldn't spread out in the shelter, but they would all fit without too much discomfort. The width of the wedged tree added surprising width to the shelter. When he was done, the basic skeleton of the shelter was done, a grid of limbs on either side of the trunk waiting to be filled.
"Jonrik? The smith jumped at the unexpected call. He turned, and saw Alva coming from a direction some-what from where they had stopped. Her two small hands cradled something, and when she came close to him she offered him her bundle. Jonrik picked a small hazelnut from her hand and threw it up to his mouth, earning him a small giggle from the blonde girl. "Can't make a fire without wood. What're you doing all the way down here?" She asked, pale blue eyes wide and curious.
"I have been tasked with making a shelter." He said simply, motioned toward the start of his work, "Audrunar went to get wood."
"Do you need any help?" She asked in her delicate voice and Jonrik chuckled. He reached out and stroked her jaw with his knuckles.
"No, dear. Go back and wait where we stopped. Or you can start making camp here but make sure no one gets left behind." Had another man offered his assistance, Jonrik would have accepted, but he was too prideful to accept such help from his wife. She bowed her head respectfully and walked past him, getting a kiss on the top of her blonde hair as she went. He didn't watch her leave, but instead started on the threshing of the roof. Jonrik had the smaller side of the shelter done, some of the other, and was working on gathering smaller boughs and foliage to finish and reinforce the longer wall as a few raindrops started to careen from the sky.
Alva
"Keep it. A smith has more need for it than I do." Alva, the front of her dress now weighed down with round stones, sticks, and dry reeds and grass, smiled and bowed her head at Audrunar.
"Thank you, Audrunar, I will not lose this one," the woman said firmly, taking the nodule and holding it in a clenched hand. As Alva discharged her burden, both Jonrik and Audrunar departed toward the forest. She picked through the seemingly random debris, pulling out the round stones. She placed them, side by side, in a circle in the reeds. She didn't think this was the best place for the fire, but they had no established spot or shelter. A fire could be moved relatively simply with a simple torch, she knew, and so figured she would just move it when the time came. Next, in the center of the circle, she placed the dry reeds and grasses for tinder. She laid a few thin sticks in a cone over the tinder. There she paused. She could make fire easily with the flint and the nodule of ore in her pack, but the tinder and sticks would probably burn up before Jonrik returned with wood. It would also be some time before either Erika or Faen came back from their separate jaunts. Alva shifted and opened her personal pack, pulled out her extra white shirt, and then closed her personal pack and wrapped it in the shirt. She put the white package on top of her black pack. It stood above the reed grasses and so she would be able to find her way back to it. So would anyone else, though. She wedged the flint in between to two packs in a spot visible to someone who came back to the started fire-pit.
Thunder rumbled as Alva stood and turned toward the woods. On their trek, Alva had wondered if some of the nuts and berries she had seen had been edible, but she had only trivial knowledge on such matters and hadn't been able to tell in passing. Jonrik had gone down the treeline, and Alva breached the woods before going in the same direction. The season was late, and Alva found much less then she had hoped for. Most of the berries around were stiff and small, and the stems of the plant were spiny. She did manage to find a small handful of hazelnuts, and popped one in her mouth as a finders fee.
She kept looking, keeping in the direction Jonrik had gone, and eventually came upon him after a decent amount of time had gone by. He stood under a tree wedged horizontally with the beginnings of a shelter built around it, his mail shirt sparkling in the dappled sunlight. Smiling, she called to him, "Jonrik!" He turned to her and she quickened her pace. She came up to him and offered him a hazelnut. With a raised brow, he selected one and tossed it up into his mouth. She giggled and said, "Can't make a fire without wood. What're you doing all the way down here?"
"I have been tasked with making a shelter." His tone told Alva that the task had not settled well with him. She wondered if it was the task itself or who said it or how it was presented that agitated him. Nevertheless, Alva was sure he was over it by now, or would be by the time the task was done.
"Do you need any help?" She knew he would say no, but she had to asked either way. He laughed, and she rolled her eyes as he caressed her face.
"No, dear. Go back and wait where we stopped. Or you can start making camp here but make sure no one gets left behind." Alva smiled and inclined her head properly, sashaying past him and getting a peck on her head. She turned back after a few steps but Jonrik had already turned away. It didn't take more than a few minutes for her to come back out to the glade that ran along the river. She spotted her pack in the distance and went for it.
She shifted the hazelnuts to one palm and fumbled with her pack for one of her wooden bowls, pouring them into one when she managed to free the stained bowl. Figuring that she would soon have to up and move anyway, she began to pick up the stones she had placed earlier, but froze when she saw someone walking in the distance. Her hand twitched toward the short sword at her hip, but relaxed when she saw it was just Faen returning. It looked as though he had been successful. She reached for the bowl of hazelnuts as he got close, the sound of his whistling in sharp contrast to the increasingly loud thunder. She wondered briefly if he was really happy enough to be whistling in such a situation, but she let the thought go as irrelevant.
Alva reached up to him and offered him the bowl as he spoke to her. "May I borrow the flint, m'lady? I can feel the promised warmth of a fire and cooked meal calling to me, and I fear we best get it started now if we want the flames to take before the rain sets in." She gestured in turn at her dismantled fire-pit, a polite smile on her face.
"That's what we'd all like, but Ardrunar has not returned with firewood. It won't make you very warm until then. I would start it, but Audrunar asked Jonrik to make a shelter, and he started it back from the river in case the rain makes the water rise. I figured I would move the fire-pit there before we start it." She shrugged. "But our group is spread out and I do not want anyone to return to nothing."
As Jonrik departed to collect wood for a fire, Audrunar stopped him and spoke. "We need a place to sleep, Jonrik. I ask you to do this, not me, because Alva is your wife." Jonrik's eyes narrowed and he shot the other man a look out of the corner of his eye in confusion. Not only was Alva none of his concern, she had no problem spending the night on the ground. "... just because people got exiled with us doesn't mean they are one of us... I'm not sure about him. Do you know what they called him? The Lokison, cunning and deceiving." Jonrik had heard of the Lokison, but he hadn't made the connection to Faen before that. With a snort, he looked into the distance to the man squatting in the river. "A short sword at day doesn't protect against a knife in the dark." Jonrik wasn't really worried, especially in their situation. It wouldn't be hard to discern who had done what if physical violence was committed by one member of their small group. Plus, Alva was intelligent, even in the secrecy of their hearth Jonrik admitted that she was beyond him, so he wasn't worried about her getting manipulated. Jonrik honestly thought Audrunar was just handing off the task of creating a shelter to him because he didn't want to do it himself. As Audrunar turned away with a slap on the smith's shoulder, Jonrik repressed a roll of his eyes. Audrunar had been a little dramatic in Jonrik's eyes. Maybe the Lokison had dark intentions, but Jonrik doubted he would make any move with so little gains to be had at the moment. But he did note that Audrunar had chosen to view him as an ally.
As the blacksmith breached the treeline, he shook those thoughts from his head and focused on the task at hand. There weren't many easy shelters to make that would hold so many people, and the only thing Jonrik thought would work would be a round lodge. As thunder rumbled menacingly in the distance it reminded Jonrik that time was a factor, unless he wanted to be working in the rain. A round lodge would take more time to put up, and so he settled on finding a spot with two trees he could base a lean-to on. But a lean-to couldn't hold a fire like a round lodge and if the rain or wind switched directions it would be like not having a shelter at all. He looked around. Mostly in the area were large-trunked deciduous trees, with a spattering of birch and other similar species. There was sparse brush in this area. Jonrik went past the line of trees and out to where the foliage flattened. He looked down the brush line and started walking, trying to decide between the two. Then he saw something that made the decision for him.
Just down the line of trees from where the group had stopped originally, Jonrik could peer through the trees and see a fallen trunk in the distance. Jonrik went to it, and saw that in its fall it 's branches had gotten tangled with other trees, keeping the log firmly hanging several feet off the ground. Jonrik inspected it, and tested it by placing his hand on top of the log and trying to dislodge it. Even when he jumped onto it, it held firm. He paid close attention to where the branches of the fallen tree had gotten stuck in other, smaller trees. A large limb, the top of the trunk most likely, had wedged in the forked trunk of another tree. Nodding and moving down its length, he saw the upturned side of the tree roots had grass and small flowers growing on the dirt that had once been submerge in the earth. The tree must've been there for at least a season, and Jonrik was not worried it would move.
Jonrik, thinking of the potential of the tree, was grateful for a solution to his problem. The existence of the tree took much of his possible work away. He planned to make a two-sided lean-to off of this fallen log, with a few feet of one side left open to allow space for a fire. It would vent, but would have protection from the coming rain. He hefted his ax from his belt and planned to get to work. He turned in a circle, looking for a tree with limbs long enough to get from the wedged tree and the ground. He made for a large tree away from the river.
As he came to the large oak, he realized he was going to have to climb the beast to get what he needed. The trunk split close to the ground and went almost horizontally in one direction, and down that trunk were boughs the size he needed. With further inspection he saw they were too high for him to cut from the ground. With a sigh, Jonrik went to the V-shaped sprouting point of the oak. He jumped up with little difficulty and climbed on his hands and knees until he came to a branch he found suitable for the shelter. He hacked it down, awkwardly, and did the same for three other branches he found along his path. He carefully maneuvered back to the ground. He only had four main supports for the walls, and he had wanted seven. The other direction the trunk went was more vertical and harder to climb. He went to collect the ones he had cut down, and laughed at himself for forgetting the obvious. Large branches from the oak, these lacking leaves and most protruding limbs, had accumulated over time. He grabbed a large armful of long branches and dragged them back to their new campsite. He went about arranging them to lean from the wedged tree and the ground. One side went the length of the tree, and the other had a small entrance way and space for a fire. The whole group couldn't spread out in the shelter, but they would all fit without too much discomfort. The width of the wedged tree added surprising width to the shelter. When he was done, the basic skeleton of the shelter was done, a grid of limbs on either side of the trunk waiting to be filled.
"Jonrik? The smith jumped at the unexpected call. He turned, and saw Alva coming from a direction some-what from where they had stopped. Her two small hands cradled something, and when she came close to him she offered him her bundle. Jonrik picked a small hazelnut from her hand and threw it up to his mouth, earning him a small giggle from the blonde girl. "Can't make a fire without wood. What're you doing all the way down here?" She asked, pale blue eyes wide and curious.
"I have been tasked with making a shelter." He said simply, motioned toward the start of his work, "Audrunar went to get wood."
"Do you need any help?" She asked in her delicate voice and Jonrik chuckled. He reached out and stroked her jaw with his knuckles.
"No, dear. Go back and wait where we stopped. Or you can start making camp here but make sure no one gets left behind." Had another man offered his assistance, Jonrik would have accepted, but he was too prideful to accept such help from his wife. She bowed her head respectfully and walked past him, getting a kiss on the top of her blonde hair as she went. He didn't watch her leave, but instead started on the threshing of the roof. Jonrik had the smaller side of the shelter done, some of the other, and was working on gathering smaller boughs and foliage to finish and reinforce the longer wall as a few raindrops started to careen from the sky.
Alva
"Keep it. A smith has more need for it than I do." Alva, the front of her dress now weighed down with round stones, sticks, and dry reeds and grass, smiled and bowed her head at Audrunar.
"Thank you, Audrunar, I will not lose this one," the woman said firmly, taking the nodule and holding it in a clenched hand. As Alva discharged her burden, both Jonrik and Audrunar departed toward the forest. She picked through the seemingly random debris, pulling out the round stones. She placed them, side by side, in a circle in the reeds. She didn't think this was the best place for the fire, but they had no established spot or shelter. A fire could be moved relatively simply with a simple torch, she knew, and so figured she would just move it when the time came. Next, in the center of the circle, she placed the dry reeds and grasses for tinder. She laid a few thin sticks in a cone over the tinder. There she paused. She could make fire easily with the flint and the nodule of ore in her pack, but the tinder and sticks would probably burn up before Jonrik returned with wood. It would also be some time before either Erika or Faen came back from their separate jaunts. Alva shifted and opened her personal pack, pulled out her extra white shirt, and then closed her personal pack and wrapped it in the shirt. She put the white package on top of her black pack. It stood above the reed grasses and so she would be able to find her way back to it. So would anyone else, though. She wedged the flint in between to two packs in a spot visible to someone who came back to the started fire-pit.
Thunder rumbled as Alva stood and turned toward the woods. On their trek, Alva had wondered if some of the nuts and berries she had seen had been edible, but she had only trivial knowledge on such matters and hadn't been able to tell in passing. Jonrik had gone down the treeline, and Alva breached the woods before going in the same direction. The season was late, and Alva found much less then she had hoped for. Most of the berries around were stiff and small, and the stems of the plant were spiny. She did manage to find a small handful of hazelnuts, and popped one in her mouth as a finders fee.
She kept looking, keeping in the direction Jonrik had gone, and eventually came upon him after a decent amount of time had gone by. He stood under a tree wedged horizontally with the beginnings of a shelter built around it, his mail shirt sparkling in the dappled sunlight. Smiling, she called to him, "Jonrik!" He turned to her and she quickened her pace. She came up to him and offered him a hazelnut. With a raised brow, he selected one and tossed it up into his mouth. She giggled and said, "Can't make a fire without wood. What're you doing all the way down here?"
"I have been tasked with making a shelter." His tone told Alva that the task had not settled well with him. She wondered if it was the task itself or who said it or how it was presented that agitated him. Nevertheless, Alva was sure he was over it by now, or would be by the time the task was done.
"Do you need any help?" She knew he would say no, but she had to asked either way. He laughed, and she rolled her eyes as he caressed her face.
"No, dear. Go back and wait where we stopped. Or you can start making camp here but make sure no one gets left behind." Alva smiled and inclined her head properly, sashaying past him and getting a peck on her head. She turned back after a few steps but Jonrik had already turned away. It didn't take more than a few minutes for her to come back out to the glade that ran along the river. She spotted her pack in the distance and went for it.
She shifted the hazelnuts to one palm and fumbled with her pack for one of her wooden bowls, pouring them into one when she managed to free the stained bowl. Figuring that she would soon have to up and move anyway, she began to pick up the stones she had placed earlier, but froze when she saw someone walking in the distance. Her hand twitched toward the short sword at her hip, but relaxed when she saw it was just Faen returning. It looked as though he had been successful. She reached for the bowl of hazelnuts as he got close, the sound of his whistling in sharp contrast to the increasingly loud thunder. She wondered briefly if he was really happy enough to be whistling in such a situation, but she let the thought go as irrelevant.
Alva reached up to him and offered him the bowl as he spoke to her. "May I borrow the flint, m'lady? I can feel the promised warmth of a fire and cooked meal calling to me, and I fear we best get it started now if we want the flames to take before the rain sets in." She gestured in turn at her dismantled fire-pit, a polite smile on her face.
"That's what we'd all like, but Ardrunar has not returned with firewood. It won't make you very warm until then. I would start it, but Audrunar asked Jonrik to make a shelter, and he started it back from the river in case the rain makes the water rise. I figured I would move the fire-pit there before we start it." She shrugged. "But our group is spread out and I do not want anyone to return to nothing."
Jonrik
The rolling hills of continuous foliage were still green, and for that Jonrik was thankful. If he had to be travelling aimlessly with a vagabond group of men just as inexperienced as he was, he would want to do it in nice weather. He let a long sigh out from his nose, looking up at the sky and relentless sun without comment. The most talkative member of their group had been rambling under his breath and Jonrik paid him no mind at first. He was too busy thinking about the failure of their raid and the inevitability of his and his pretty wife's death to worry about the other man's religious concerns. He didn't ignore Audrunar, he merely kept silent. He looked back at Alva, walking closely behind him but as to not hamper his movement, and she smiled encouragingly at him. He gave her a slight nod, internally relieved she was not yet seeming to tire. Alva was a sort of rock to Jonrik; in this unpredictable sojourn to places unknown she was surprising supportive and pleasant. She looked tired and dirty, but not beaten, and could go for as long as Jonrik kept moving.
The longer they traveled, the more Jonrik thought of his patriotic failure, and a grimace would flit across his features during their daily jaunts in periods of prolonged silence. Jonrik had been a proud man; he had a well-off business, a pretty wife that would no doubt soon bring him sons, and finally a position to defend that pride. But he had squandered it with his failure, and now his already small ego felt deflated.
Jonrik's strides were strong and evenly spaced, showing no sign of weariness in front of his young bride and male companions. His arms were taut but not stiff, holding one of his hunting spears at his hip. His ax, made more for cutting woods than limbs, was strung on a loop on his belt, hanging down to his knee and movingly somewhat naturally with his leg. That only came after many readjustments from both himself and discreetly Alva the day before.
As the group approached a small glade at the edge of a river the song of rushing water was a welcomed sound. Jonrik too scanned the opposite side for any sign of danger but found nothing more than Audrunar. After a moment of squinting at the horizon, Jonrik reached to the nape of his neck and loosed the tie holding his hair, and then dipped forward and submerged his head until the water met his brow. He straightened and brushed the water through his hair. As Erika and Faen left to hunt, separately which Jonrik found a little foolish but didn't say anything, Jonrik saw Alva rummaging through their pack and scowling. After a moment, he went to her. She looked up respectfully as he approached. "What's troubling you?"
"Well," she said loudly enough for both him and the others to hear, and shot a short glance at Audrunar, "What we need right now, if Erika and Faen are trying to hunt, is fire, but we do not have a firestone in our pack."
Jonrik scowled and stood. "Well, regardless of how we start the fire we need wood." He looked from their position off from the river on their side to where the area became more wooded, mirroring the opposite side of the river. "I will go back and collect what I can." Jonrik addressed the group as a whole, not Alva, as he said this, and, assuming no one would object, Jonrik went to do just that, a hand resting on the head of his ax.
Alva
The monotony of the sun beating down atop Jonrik's dark hair was beginning to annoy him. He was not an irritable man, which, in the group's situation was probably a nice benefit, but that was not to say he was perpetually congenial. The stiffness in his shoulders that Alva saw because of the heat's agitation was doubtless beginning to form knots that she would have to rub out later. She noted this, but then put it out of her mind. It was a worry and responsibility for when they stopped for the night. Besides that, she herself had a few knots affecting her comfort from their supplies, but she had the womanly grace to not show it. As the submissive gender, and the one that was considered to do less working, a whining girl was an ungrateful nuisance. Thankfully, their group had no such characters to deal with. Women like that aggravated Alva as much as her male superiors. She did shift the two packs on her back in response, though.
Alva's personal pack, the smaller of the two, was a sack with a few pockets made of a single worked and processed elk hide with dried sinew draw ties at the circular top. A flap was sewn just beyond to cover the drawstring opening. The pockets, large enough to actually be considered pouches, were sewn on with more dried sinew. Inside were basic living supplies that most people planning on raiding for a few days with think to carry with them: an extra pair of clothes (one entire set for both Alva and Jonrik, but nothing more), a small amount of leftover rations (dried meat and prepared traveling cakes of cooked and baked fats, oats, and fruits), and a few random tools of Alva's womanly duties (specifically a few sewing needles in a small cylindrical container along with a thimble and awl, a small amount of sinew for sewing, a few small scraps of leather, a metal cooking pot, and a pouch with white willow bark). The pack was light and rested near her shoulders, on top of their heavier tools pack. The tool pack, another pack made of leather, was dyed black and shaped with a cubic back-frame. The end result was a black box with a strong bottom that closed with a top flap sewn to one side. The sides of the top tied closed at the sides. The pack, which did not extend much past Alva's lithe frame, was slightly sagged down with its contents' weight. The pack contained a single pair of tongs and pliers, a worn pair of leather gloves, two hammers with large and small heads, a few chunks of pre-smelted ore, and leather cut into strips. Above those tools were a broken down wooden frame for Alva's work and a few large wooden bowls darkly stained, as well as a few metal scrapers for treating hides. If they had left on a trade trip, Alva would have brought along the right fats for curing and waterproofing, but alas she did not anticipate this turn of events.
When the sound of running water started to drift lazily along to the group's ears Alva had to suppress a sigh of contentment. She was not used to traveling and her whole body, shoulders to feet, ached. When Alva stopped, she released her burden to the ground. "I don't see anyone there. I think we should be fine. What's next? Anyone got any suggestions?" A man's voice was a sort of attention queue for Alva and so she paid heed to the sound of Ardrunar's query. Thinking the answer to his rhetorical question was fire, Alva knelt next to her pack and began to rifle through it, moving the larger items out of the way and groping at masses of clothes to see if they contained any hidden items.
"Saw plenty of deer tracks on the way here. I’m going to go hunt, while there’s still daylight, Alva frowned after a moment, thinking back to when she had packed that bag. Had she forgotten the flint, or had she lost it?
"If you get a fire ready Erika and I shall delve the earth and seas for such a banquet to make those feasting in Valhalla green with envy!" Regardless of the explanation of the flint's non-existence, she had no flint to her name.
"What's troubling you?" Alva came to rapt attention at Jonrik's voice, looking up at his face (though not necessarily his eyes). He stood over her crouched form and peered down through a few rebellious tresses of damp hair.
"Well," she started a bit hesitantly, figuring that it was her fault they had no flint, "What we need right now, if Erika and Faen are trying to hunt, is fire, but we do not have a firestone in our pack." Alva looked up at the stragglers of their group as Jonrik departed with a few words. Alva stood and began to collect stones for a fire pit, asking the remaining members of their group, "Does anyone else have a firestone?"
The rolling hills of continuous foliage were still green, and for that Jonrik was thankful. If he had to be travelling aimlessly with a vagabond group of men just as inexperienced as he was, he would want to do it in nice weather. He let a long sigh out from his nose, looking up at the sky and relentless sun without comment. The most talkative member of their group had been rambling under his breath and Jonrik paid him no mind at first. He was too busy thinking about the failure of their raid and the inevitability of his and his pretty wife's death to worry about the other man's religious concerns. He didn't ignore Audrunar, he merely kept silent. He looked back at Alva, walking closely behind him but as to not hamper his movement, and she smiled encouragingly at him. He gave her a slight nod, internally relieved she was not yet seeming to tire. Alva was a sort of rock to Jonrik; in this unpredictable sojourn to places unknown she was surprising supportive and pleasant. She looked tired and dirty, but not beaten, and could go for as long as Jonrik kept moving.
The longer they traveled, the more Jonrik thought of his patriotic failure, and a grimace would flit across his features during their daily jaunts in periods of prolonged silence. Jonrik had been a proud man; he had a well-off business, a pretty wife that would no doubt soon bring him sons, and finally a position to defend that pride. But he had squandered it with his failure, and now his already small ego felt deflated.
Jonrik's strides were strong and evenly spaced, showing no sign of weariness in front of his young bride and male companions. His arms were taut but not stiff, holding one of his hunting spears at his hip. His ax, made more for cutting woods than limbs, was strung on a loop on his belt, hanging down to his knee and movingly somewhat naturally with his leg. That only came after many readjustments from both himself and discreetly Alva the day before.
As the group approached a small glade at the edge of a river the song of rushing water was a welcomed sound. Jonrik too scanned the opposite side for any sign of danger but found nothing more than Audrunar. After a moment of squinting at the horizon, Jonrik reached to the nape of his neck and loosed the tie holding his hair, and then dipped forward and submerged his head until the water met his brow. He straightened and brushed the water through his hair. As Erika and Faen left to hunt, separately which Jonrik found a little foolish but didn't say anything, Jonrik saw Alva rummaging through their pack and scowling. After a moment, he went to her. She looked up respectfully as he approached. "What's troubling you?"
"Well," she said loudly enough for both him and the others to hear, and shot a short glance at Audrunar, "What we need right now, if Erika and Faen are trying to hunt, is fire, but we do not have a firestone in our pack."
Jonrik scowled and stood. "Well, regardless of how we start the fire we need wood." He looked from their position off from the river on their side to where the area became more wooded, mirroring the opposite side of the river. "I will go back and collect what I can." Jonrik addressed the group as a whole, not Alva, as he said this, and, assuming no one would object, Jonrik went to do just that, a hand resting on the head of his ax.
Alva
The monotony of the sun beating down atop Jonrik's dark hair was beginning to annoy him. He was not an irritable man, which, in the group's situation was probably a nice benefit, but that was not to say he was perpetually congenial. The stiffness in his shoulders that Alva saw because of the heat's agitation was doubtless beginning to form knots that she would have to rub out later. She noted this, but then put it out of her mind. It was a worry and responsibility for when they stopped for the night. Besides that, she herself had a few knots affecting her comfort from their supplies, but she had the womanly grace to not show it. As the submissive gender, and the one that was considered to do less working, a whining girl was an ungrateful nuisance. Thankfully, their group had no such characters to deal with. Women like that aggravated Alva as much as her male superiors. She did shift the two packs on her back in response, though.
Alva's personal pack, the smaller of the two, was a sack with a few pockets made of a single worked and processed elk hide with dried sinew draw ties at the circular top. A flap was sewn just beyond to cover the drawstring opening. The pockets, large enough to actually be considered pouches, were sewn on with more dried sinew. Inside were basic living supplies that most people planning on raiding for a few days with think to carry with them: an extra pair of clothes (one entire set for both Alva and Jonrik, but nothing more), a small amount of leftover rations (dried meat and prepared traveling cakes of cooked and baked fats, oats, and fruits), and a few random tools of Alva's womanly duties (specifically a few sewing needles in a small cylindrical container along with a thimble and awl, a small amount of sinew for sewing, a few small scraps of leather, a metal cooking pot, and a pouch with white willow bark). The pack was light and rested near her shoulders, on top of their heavier tools pack. The tool pack, another pack made of leather, was dyed black and shaped with a cubic back-frame. The end result was a black box with a strong bottom that closed with a top flap sewn to one side. The sides of the top tied closed at the sides. The pack, which did not extend much past Alva's lithe frame, was slightly sagged down with its contents' weight. The pack contained a single pair of tongs and pliers, a worn pair of leather gloves, two hammers with large and small heads, a few chunks of pre-smelted ore, and leather cut into strips. Above those tools were a broken down wooden frame for Alva's work and a few large wooden bowls darkly stained, as well as a few metal scrapers for treating hides. If they had left on a trade trip, Alva would have brought along the right fats for curing and waterproofing, but alas she did not anticipate this turn of events.
When the sound of running water started to drift lazily along to the group's ears Alva had to suppress a sigh of contentment. She was not used to traveling and her whole body, shoulders to feet, ached. When Alva stopped, she released her burden to the ground. "I don't see anyone there. I think we should be fine. What's next? Anyone got any suggestions?" A man's voice was a sort of attention queue for Alva and so she paid heed to the sound of Ardrunar's query. Thinking the answer to his rhetorical question was fire, Alva knelt next to her pack and began to rifle through it, moving the larger items out of the way and groping at masses of clothes to see if they contained any hidden items.
"Saw plenty of deer tracks on the way here. I’m going to go hunt, while there’s still daylight, Alva frowned after a moment, thinking back to when she had packed that bag. Had she forgotten the flint, or had she lost it?
"If you get a fire ready Erika and I shall delve the earth and seas for such a banquet to make those feasting in Valhalla green with envy!" Regardless of the explanation of the flint's non-existence, she had no flint to her name.
"What's troubling you?" Alva came to rapt attention at Jonrik's voice, looking up at his face (though not necessarily his eyes). He stood over her crouched form and peered down through a few rebellious tresses of damp hair.
"Well," she started a bit hesitantly, figuring that it was her fault they had no flint, "What we need right now, if Erika and Faen are trying to hunt, is fire, but we do not have a firestone in our pack." Alva looked up at the stragglers of their group as Jonrik departed with a few words. Alva stood and began to collect stones for a fire pit, asking the remaining members of their group, "Does anyone else have a firestone?"
Sorry about that, Im working on a post now.
EDIT: my bf might come over and if he does i might be delayed till tomorrow afternoon
EDIT2: And by the way, im absolutely fascinated with daily life of prehistoric and other not-so-pre-historic peoples of this time period so if anything is long winded im sorry. Im not an expert or anything its jsut little things i pick up from the books i read :p (and its not anything important its like how they kept their shit trenches from stinking and other random little thing)
EDIT3: By firestone I mean flint, which i looked up and was a part of human life in prehistoric times so Im assuming they would know of it too, :V
EDIT: my bf might come over and if he does i might be delayed till tomorrow afternoon
EDIT2: And by the way, im absolutely fascinated with daily life of prehistoric and other not-so-pre-historic peoples of this time period so if anything is long winded im sorry. Im not an expert or anything its jsut little things i pick up from the books i read :p (and its not anything important its like how they kept their shit trenches from stinking and other random little thing)
EDIT3: By firestone I mean flint, which i looked up and was a part of human life in prehistoric times so Im assuming they would know of it too, :V
I honestly didn't mean warhammer in a technical sense, more like a large hammer he happens to take into battle (though I guess that's all a warhammer is). I wouldn't have thought that was too above them but I dont know much about it. Is it being a hammer alright, then, or would you rather I change it to an axe? It doesn't make much of a difference for me, if the axe is more accurate.
I honestly didn't mean warhammer in a technical sense, more like a large hammer he happens to take into battle (though I guess that's all a warhammer is). I wouldn't have thought that was too above them but I dont know much about it. Is it being a hammer alright, then, or would you rather I change it to an axe? It doesn't make much of a difference for me, if the axe is more accurate.
I would've had it be early on, enough that she wouldn't notice it yet. That way, it wouldn't hinder her until later on.
I hadn't meant for him to be some badass berserker, trust me lol. I had just meant he uses it because he's strong enough to wield it, whereas it might be cumbersome to the average man. I'll change that.
I hadn't meant for him to be some badass berserker, trust me lol. I had just meant he uses it because he's strong enough to wield it, whereas it might be cumbersome to the average man. I'll change that.
Boom.
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