10th of Searing, 120.
It was not the relative cold of the season's morning that woke her that day, as it had many times before. No, if anything, the half-blood's tent was comfortable just a little deeper into the searing season. No. It was the pains in her stomach that woke her, churning and rumbling in the emptiness of her gut while her body tried to eat itself. With a sigh, she opened her silver eyes to peer at the fabric of her tent, which rested relatively still despite the sound of a breeze rolling around in the cold morning beyond.
With something of a groan, she rolled onto her back and sat up on her bedroll. A powerful yawn drew her paw-like hand to her mouth. Lazily she covered it before she used that same hand to rub at her sleepy eyes. Sleeping on the floor was something she'd adjusted to easily; her hay-stuffed mattress at home was barely any better. But she'd been on the road for some time now, and the warning aches and pains in her back only became more intense with each morning. Or was it that she noticed it sooner? She couldn't tell.
"Pacheco..." She called, only to shift her hand to her temples at the sound of her own voice; it was too early. "G'mornin..." She mumbled a little quieter. After drawing a deep breath, the half giant scooted toward the entrance of her tent and undid the binding buttons of the door with great difficulty. She'd have felt better after she'd had something to eat, but, she'd already used all her rations. Perhaps there was something left in Pacheco's bag? A scrap of bread she'd forgotten to eat? She salivated at the thought.
Some fumbling with the intricacies of a button later, she managed to climb onto the cool, dew-laced grass of the season's morning, only to stumble to her feet with a little more effort. Immediately, she lifted her thick arms overhead and stretched her weary muscles, popping the trapped air in her bones audibly as she did. A satisfied groan saw her exhale following her stretches, and she loosened up a little with a twist or two of her upper body. Finally, she turned to the tree that she'd left her companion tied to, and gawked at the sight; a tree with no companion tied to it. Pacheco was gone!
"PACHECO?" She called into the twilight of the morning, as if Pacheco would whinny back to signal that he was nearby. Alas, no whinny came. Her heart began to beat heavily in her chest, her breathing picked up a little in tandem. Pacheco was gone, her dear friend. She had to find him. A glance to her tent yielded no answers as to the whereabouts of her companion, but it did pose a question; if she left the tent, would it too disappear before she returned? No. She couldn't worry about the tent. Not now. Pacheco was lost, cold and alone. The thought made her throat burn and her eyes well with tears.
There was no time to cry. No time to pack up her camp. Pacheco was lost and he needed help! So, once she'd composed herself some, she stormed toward the tree she'd tied him to in order to investigate. Immediately, nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. But when she inspected the scene closer, she found a few details out of place. The loop handle of Pacheco's lead clung to the tree still, but it broke in a messy, stretched fray toward the end. Had he chewed through the rope? Broken it by pulling maybe? Why? As unanswered questions began to clog her brain, she took a knee to inspect the ground. What she found was just as she'd expected.
The grass at the foot of the tree had been thoroughly munched on. Of course. Pacheco loved grass; it was his favorite food. There was still plenty of it there, which only further confused the giant. Why would Pacheco go to such lengths to escape if there was still grass to be munched? It made no sense. Unless... Steadily, the gears in her head turned, working toward a conclusion. Pacheco must have been in danger! She was a heavy sleeper. Sleeping through his cries for help wasn't entirely beyond her. Her brow furrowed as her heart sank, and she reached to her chest to hold herself steady for a moment or two while she eased her thoughts down from the worst case scenario.
Her large sausage-like fingers felt through the freshly munched grass, searching for the impressions of his hoof prints when they found something else. It was wet, too thick to be dew and difficult to see in the early morning. She drew a shaky breath, then lifted her fingers to her upper lip where she sniffed hesitantly. At once, her lungs burned with the scent of iron. Blood. Pacheco was bleeding! Her companion was lost, cold, alone and wounded. Her heart beat hard in her chest, audible in her ears as panic began to set in. She swallowed, though her mouth was dry with fear. "Pacheco..." she mumbled, then quickly searched through the bloody grass, searching for his hoof prints.
When at last she found some sort of groove in the dirt, she pressed around it frantically, trying to make out the shape in the early morning, though her eyes were beginning to adjust to the low light. Still, her panicking wasn't helping, she recognized. So, despite her shaking and ragged breath, she paused to slow and calm herself. She drew deep, methodical breaths that steadily eased her heart into a more relaxed rhythm. It was going to be okay. She'd find her companion, treat his wounds and then pack up her tent if it was still there. She had a plan. When her eyes opened again, she found that she could focus rather well on his hoof prints and the disrupted grass.
After she'd wiped her hand into her loose deerskin garments, she stood and filled her lungs with a couple more steady breaths. Without delay, she took to the early morning, frightened eyes scanned the ground in search of prints. When she discovered something of a clear trail, she followed along carefully and focused on her breathing as she went. The prints took her down a slope and along a narrow footpath before arriving at a river's edge, where they ended. Magna paused and her heart began to race again as fear crept all around her. Pacheco ran into the river? Her frightened eyes took to her surroundings, and scanned the bank further down in search of a sign; anything that might have heralded his presence nearby.
Nothing. No sight of her companion nor her saddlebags. The banks held none of her equipment, suggesting that Pacheco hadn't perished in the river. A sigh of relief came over her before she looked to the other side of the water. Pacheco must have made it across, right? It was the only reasonable assumption, considering that none of her equipment laid strewn across the banks. It was impossible to tell from this side, however. She'd need to cross to see if his hoofprints were in the dirty sand there, let alone follow his trail. But how?
As the sun rose, the giant looked to her bloodied hand and balled a fist. She would find a way. Pacheco needed her, and he'd never failed her before. So, with her target in mind, she swallowed her compulsion to swim the river crossing and turned away from her target to march back up the hill. She still had her backpack and a few other valuables, tent included, but she'd grown used to Pacheco's help in carrying it all. A short climb later, she was back at her campsite. The tent hadn't disappeared, so she began to pack it all away. Bedroll, tent, flint and steel; it all fit snug within or on her bag along with a few other bits and pieces that she hadn't left on Pacheco's saddle. Her belongings were heavy, but it was a manageable weight on her back. After rolling her shoulder and adjusting the straps, she tied her long amber hair back and steeled herself against the growling void in her gut.
Amidst her panic, the giantess had almost forgotten she was, in fact, hungry. Perhaps Pacheco had found some food for her? Perhaps he was on his way back to at that very moment? The thought brought a tearful smile to her face, though she knew it not likely. With a heavy sigh, she cooled the burn in her throat and turned to descend the slope once more. The first obstacle in her path was the river. Ideas crossed her mind as to how to cross it, but all had their drawbacks. She could build a boat, but that would take too much time. Finding a bridge would force her to walk all the way back to this point on the other side of the river. A ferryman? Her money was in Pacheco's saddlebag.
When she arrived at the bank again, she shifted her feet in the dirty sand and stared into the reflection of the sun while she thought.
It was not the relative cold of the season's morning that woke her that day, as it had many times before. No, if anything, the half-blood's tent was comfortable just a little deeper into the searing season. No. It was the pains in her stomach that woke her, churning and rumbling in the emptiness of her gut while her body tried to eat itself. With a sigh, she opened her silver eyes to peer at the fabric of her tent, which rested relatively still despite the sound of a breeze rolling around in the cold morning beyond.
With something of a groan, she rolled onto her back and sat up on her bedroll. A powerful yawn drew her paw-like hand to her mouth. Lazily she covered it before she used that same hand to rub at her sleepy eyes. Sleeping on the floor was something she'd adjusted to easily; her hay-stuffed mattress at home was barely any better. But she'd been on the road for some time now, and the warning aches and pains in her back only became more intense with each morning. Or was it that she noticed it sooner? She couldn't tell.
"Pacheco..." She called, only to shift her hand to her temples at the sound of her own voice; it was too early. "G'mornin..." She mumbled a little quieter. After drawing a deep breath, the half giant scooted toward the entrance of her tent and undid the binding buttons of the door with great difficulty. She'd have felt better after she'd had something to eat, but, she'd already used all her rations. Perhaps there was something left in Pacheco's bag? A scrap of bread she'd forgotten to eat? She salivated at the thought.
Some fumbling with the intricacies of a button later, she managed to climb onto the cool, dew-laced grass of the season's morning, only to stumble to her feet with a little more effort. Immediately, she lifted her thick arms overhead and stretched her weary muscles, popping the trapped air in her bones audibly as she did. A satisfied groan saw her exhale following her stretches, and she loosened up a little with a twist or two of her upper body. Finally, she turned to the tree that she'd left her companion tied to, and gawked at the sight; a tree with no companion tied to it. Pacheco was gone!
"PACHECO?" She called into the twilight of the morning, as if Pacheco would whinny back to signal that he was nearby. Alas, no whinny came. Her heart began to beat heavily in her chest, her breathing picked up a little in tandem. Pacheco was gone, her dear friend. She had to find him. A glance to her tent yielded no answers as to the whereabouts of her companion, but it did pose a question; if she left the tent, would it too disappear before she returned? No. She couldn't worry about the tent. Not now. Pacheco was lost, cold and alone. The thought made her throat burn and her eyes well with tears.
There was no time to cry. No time to pack up her camp. Pacheco was lost and he needed help! So, once she'd composed herself some, she stormed toward the tree she'd tied him to in order to investigate. Immediately, nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. But when she inspected the scene closer, she found a few details out of place. The loop handle of Pacheco's lead clung to the tree still, but it broke in a messy, stretched fray toward the end. Had he chewed through the rope? Broken it by pulling maybe? Why? As unanswered questions began to clog her brain, she took a knee to inspect the ground. What she found was just as she'd expected.
The grass at the foot of the tree had been thoroughly munched on. Of course. Pacheco loved grass; it was his favorite food. There was still plenty of it there, which only further confused the giant. Why would Pacheco go to such lengths to escape if there was still grass to be munched? It made no sense. Unless... Steadily, the gears in her head turned, working toward a conclusion. Pacheco must have been in danger! She was a heavy sleeper. Sleeping through his cries for help wasn't entirely beyond her. Her brow furrowed as her heart sank, and she reached to her chest to hold herself steady for a moment or two while she eased her thoughts down from the worst case scenario.
Her large sausage-like fingers felt through the freshly munched grass, searching for the impressions of his hoof prints when they found something else. It was wet, too thick to be dew and difficult to see in the early morning. She drew a shaky breath, then lifted her fingers to her upper lip where she sniffed hesitantly. At once, her lungs burned with the scent of iron. Blood. Pacheco was bleeding! Her companion was lost, cold, alone and wounded. Her heart beat hard in her chest, audible in her ears as panic began to set in. She swallowed, though her mouth was dry with fear. "Pacheco..." she mumbled, then quickly searched through the bloody grass, searching for his hoof prints.
When at last she found some sort of groove in the dirt, she pressed around it frantically, trying to make out the shape in the early morning, though her eyes were beginning to adjust to the low light. Still, her panicking wasn't helping, she recognized. So, despite her shaking and ragged breath, she paused to slow and calm herself. She drew deep, methodical breaths that steadily eased her heart into a more relaxed rhythm. It was going to be okay. She'd find her companion, treat his wounds and then pack up her tent if it was still there. She had a plan. When her eyes opened again, she found that she could focus rather well on his hoof prints and the disrupted grass.
After she'd wiped her hand into her loose deerskin garments, she stood and filled her lungs with a couple more steady breaths. Without delay, she took to the early morning, frightened eyes scanned the ground in search of prints. When she discovered something of a clear trail, she followed along carefully and focused on her breathing as she went. The prints took her down a slope and along a narrow footpath before arriving at a river's edge, where they ended. Magna paused and her heart began to race again as fear crept all around her. Pacheco ran into the river? Her frightened eyes took to her surroundings, and scanned the bank further down in search of a sign; anything that might have heralded his presence nearby.
Nothing. No sight of her companion nor her saddlebags. The banks held none of her equipment, suggesting that Pacheco hadn't perished in the river. A sigh of relief came over her before she looked to the other side of the water. Pacheco must have made it across, right? It was the only reasonable assumption, considering that none of her equipment laid strewn across the banks. It was impossible to tell from this side, however. She'd need to cross to see if his hoofprints were in the dirty sand there, let alone follow his trail. But how?
As the sun rose, the giant looked to her bloodied hand and balled a fist. She would find a way. Pacheco needed her, and he'd never failed her before. So, with her target in mind, she swallowed her compulsion to swim the river crossing and turned away from her target to march back up the hill. She still had her backpack and a few other valuables, tent included, but she'd grown used to Pacheco's help in carrying it all. A short climb later, she was back at her campsite. The tent hadn't disappeared, so she began to pack it all away. Bedroll, tent, flint and steel; it all fit snug within or on her bag along with a few other bits and pieces that she hadn't left on Pacheco's saddle. Her belongings were heavy, but it was a manageable weight on her back. After rolling her shoulder and adjusting the straps, she tied her long amber hair back and steeled herself against the growling void in her gut.
Amidst her panic, the giantess had almost forgotten she was, in fact, hungry. Perhaps Pacheco had found some food for her? Perhaps he was on his way back to at that very moment? The thought brought a tearful smile to her face, though she knew it not likely. With a heavy sigh, she cooled the burn in her throat and turned to descend the slope once more. The first obstacle in her path was the river. Ideas crossed her mind as to how to cross it, but all had their drawbacks. She could build a boat, but that would take too much time. Finding a bridge would force her to walk all the way back to this point on the other side of the river. A ferryman? Her money was in Pacheco's saddlebag.
When she arrived at the bank again, she shifted her feet in the dirty sand and stared into the reflection of the sun while she thought.
