PROSE LOG: RAHAL ON THE PLAINS
Vinay turned out to be like any other large city he’d ever gone to - crowded, made mostly of stone, and overall not to his liking. Sauronix was a city in its own right, but was more spacious because of it’s dragon horses and need to be defensible and a far smaller civilian population than Vinay by far.
Luckily, his shopping hadn’t taken long, and for the past couple of days it was down to just him and Flail in the open country between Budehuc and Vinay. He did move within a close distance of the castle, just in case, but didn’t think there’d be any need to head home relatively soon.
Flail, for one, seemed to enjoy the newfound freedom of the open spaces and woodlands they passed through. She stepped high and light, jittery at points even. He got rid of that excess energy with a good hard run, though even that couldn’t bring Flail fully down from her high. But Rahal couldn’t say he minded. If being out like this was liberating for Flail, it was refreshing for Rahal. The majority of his time back in Falena was spent in an office or within the confines of Sauronix Castle, and he had come to miss ranging wide as he had as a mere petty officer and Captain.
For the better part of two days he and Flail camped out on the plains between the forests and Budehuc. They had a sort of routine - work out in the mornings, laze about in the heat of the day and eat their midday meal, then range off until night and repeat. They met with few problems other than the occasional furfly or bladebunny, and Rahal expected nothing more serious when he woke up on their third day out.
Flail lay asleep still, curled up close to the fire and beneath a light blanket Rahal had draped over the cold-blooded beast. Assured of Flail’s training, he gathered up a small satchel to go foraging for his own breakfast and see if he couldn’t find a blade bunny or two to supplement the dried meat they had left over last night for Flail’s morning meal.
Taking a small dagger and the satchel, he set out into the deep grass where he knew the blade bunnies like to hide and he could find an assortment of grassland plants useable for his own consumption. He pushed through the grass, taking some care to be quiet as he moved, though not much.
He paused when he came to a patch of small, edible shrubs, working them out of the ground, when a large rustle and snap made him pause. Slowly his hand crept to his dagger, shifting into a more ready position and glancing about, though the tall grass made it difficult. The rustle sounded form behind him and he spun, dagger up front, ready.
Slowly, slowly they parted…
And by the Sun it was the most gigantic boar he had ever seen. The beast stood at least a good four feet tall at the shoulder, with wickedly curved tusks yellowed from blood and gouging the earth. Sharp teeth glittered and bristly fur rippled as muscles shook the massive beast. Beady eyes looked straight at him, and Rahal wasn’t sure if there was madness there or something else. He sincerely hoped it was not madness.
A wet grunt gurgled up from the beast; swinging its head from side to side, drool dropping down in wet blobs from its mouth. Rahal brought the dagger up to bare, rising to his feet in slow increments and attempting to back up, perhaps fad into the surrounding grass. He dared not whistle for Flail, afraid of angering the beast in front of him.
The beast stiffened as Rahal stepped back, a louder, wet grunt working up, stepping forward after him. Damn it. He bit his lip, trying to think quickly, looking for an escape and not seeing one. He didn’t know how long he had before the beast decided it would try something over than be intimidating (and he really, really hope this was not a female boar with piglets).
Another step back - and a crack. He looked down, cursing as he realized he’d just stepped on one of the shrubs he had been foraging on (and belatedly realizing that it was probably a good source for the boar as well). A squeal ripped through the air, and the former Commander spun, bunching his legs to try and dive out of the way, sure the boar was about to attack - and indeed the boar was gearing up to attack if the bent of its head was any indication.
He bent his legs; pushing to the side, unsure if he was going to make it out of range of the vicious tusks -
And then a great streak of blue, a shrill bellow, and the crunch of a heavy body meeting grassy earth. He landed on his shoulder and somersaulted up, staring at the slowly whipping tail of his dragon horse, the brown body of the boar struggling to its feet and squealing in rage.
Before he had time to whistle a command the two were meeting again, horns and tucks scraping and locking, teeth snapping, growling. It was all happening to fast for him to really comprehend, like his first battle. Dirt flew and the air filled with growls, grunts, and shrieks. If felt like hours the boar and his dragon clashed.
Then, with a final squeal, the boar fell to its knees, a gash in its side gushing blood and Flail’s horns stained crimson as her sides heaved. The creature’s eyes glazed, and it went silent.
Licking his lips, Rahal rose to his feet, somehow keeping himself from shaking and whistling the command for ‘come here’. Flail turned slowly and limped over to him, blue scales scuffed and blood splattered.
“There girl, shhh,” he soothed, stroking her neck as the dragon horse stood shaking, one leg held up as if tender.
He knelt at her leg, wincing at the glistening wound, fresh and bleeding blood at a rate that was worrisome, but not alarming. Several more scratches covered her underbelly and chest, all to deep for his liking.
“Come on girl,” he said, resting a hand on her neck and whistling, guiding her back out of the grass and to the campsite.
She lay down with a groan, fully on her side and letting the wounded leg dangle. Biting the inside of his cheek, Rahal knelt and began to clean and bandage it, but he had only basic first-aid, never having expected something like this to happen. He did what he could for the rest of the wounds, hating how deep they were - one on her chest proving much deeper than he initially thought, clotted with dirt.
He finished and shifted, bringing Flail’s head into his lap, stroking her forehead and taking a spare cloth to clean her horns and face.
“It’ll be okay girl,” he said. “It’ll be okay. You’ll be up and walking by tomorrow.”