Miel Kha

It had been a long, long time since she had done anything with just her mother. Forays to hunt and gather food like this she usually did with Lavanda--they were a good team, perfectly balancing each other out for whenever the odd monster or wildlife attacked them

But Lavanda had gone, where exactly he hadn't said but the look in his eyes told her that he wouldn't be back for a long, long time. If that's what he wanted to do, however, then who was she to stop him? A part of her had wished he had asked her along for the thought of traveling was an exciting one, but that was his decision to make.

Which meant she was now with her mother. Miel was seventeen summers now making it nearly a decade since her brother had first found her and brought her back to the Kha clan and there was still a degree of awkwardness with which she regarded her mother.

Miel loved Namuunaa, of course. And she knew Namuunaa loved her in turn but...

Well. She wasn't really sure what it was. She knew she had once had a problem with a mother figure in life but that was a long time ago and she was well over it.

Completely over it.

"Got another one!" She exclaimed when the end of her spear struck true. She pulled it back to reveal a pierced fish still struggling in its death throes.

She had never gotten the hang of a bow and arrow---hitting something from a long distance was not in her skillset--but like this? She could help bring something in.

( Read More )

It had been half a year since the little Raen child had been brought to the Kha clan. Her recovery had been a haphazard one, with the Mol healers neededing to tend to her multiple times over, and when the worst of her physical ailments had passed there was still much to be done about her mental state and lack of trust.

Some days were better than others. Some days she seemed to lose her progress. Some days she'd be quiet and obedient to an extreme--disturbingly so as if she had become some automaton and other days she would lash out with claws and teeth at anyone who came near her. She seemed to be particularly sensitive and vitriolic towards women and this extended to Namuunaa as well.

Fortunately Namuunaa was a woman of infinite patience and knew not to take it personally...doubtless there was a reason for that.

The child, now named "Miel" was also willful as they came. In an effort to rebuild her strength as fast as possible she would walk until her legs gave out under her, fight against the training dummies until her fists nearly bled, and once she was able to picking up whatever chores around the camp that she could.

In the past moon her voice had recovered enough strength for her to speak again, albeit it very quietly and in spurts. When asked about her name, where she came from, what she had been doing, who her parents were she had simply shrugged again and said she couldn't remember anything.

Today found her sitting on a grassy knoll, looking over the clan's sheep to make sure that none of them wandered out too far. Her arms were wrapped about her knees and pulled tight against her chest. She was still a thin thing, but a far cry from when she had been at death's doorstep.

Buttons — 03/28/2023 3:56 PM
"Ah, there you are."

Lavanda had only grown impossibly taller in the past six months, horns elongating and coming close to the final form of them. On his back was the familiar bow, in his hand two rabbits. "Mom said you left without a meal again."

( Read More )

Buttons — 03/19/2023 11:30 PM
The wind whipped against his face, ruffling his hair and tossing the ends of his scarf that refused despite all efforts to stay tucked in to the neck of his robes. The boy huffs, breath making a small cloud in the air, and he attempts to shove the ends back in to the garments.

Once he's certain the scarf will stay in place, he returns his hands to the bow slung about his back, slipping it free from its holster and plucking an arrow from the quiver at his waist. With careful steps he makes his way through the plains of the Steppe to a copse of trees.

The snow would begin falling soon, he could practically taste it on the wind, and he was hoping to find a little bit more game before it did. His mother had not necessarily asked him to, but he knew that if his father were with them he'd be hunting until the first flake fell.

So that is why the boy finds himself so far from camp, slipping between the roots and gnarls of the barren trees, searching for tracks.

He finds the small steps of rabbits in the frost, and they seem fresh. He knocks an arrow, and proceeds deeper in to the pocket of trees, green eyes wide and scanning for the rapid movement of a winter hare.

( Read More )