10.Aug.22, 06:00 AM
At Syrendryth's refusal, Chironhes merely dipped his head into a polite nod and held out his offering for Tiberuth. Avoiding reaching out again, the boy sloshed his way back down the river and pulled off his ruined shirt to scrub it in the river.
Blood muddied the waters downstream away from their temporary encampment, and it seemed no matter how much he scrubbed, the fabric was still stained from his stabbing the Feline K'dar had punched. With his back facing the others, he took a moment to examine his wounds from the wherry and was satisfied to find them so well healed. All the activity from the hunting hadn't opened up the one along his abdomen that had taken so long to patch in the first place. Crouching down, he sluiced water across his skin, grateful for the chill of it in the heat of the jungle.
He'd just have to toss the shirt when they got back, he realized. If Sironar saw him return with it, his roommate was apt to faint. Donning it now to keep the worst of the sun off his skin while they still had work to do, Chir returned to K'dar's side to help him butcher the Felines and separate them out in the carcass bags he'd brought along.
Content to keep at his task, he had no complaint when K'dar trotted off to speak in quiet tones with his brother. Used to his own company anyway, Chir worked diligently to ensure the carcasses were well cleaned for any useable parts.
The exposure of Feline ribs had a spark of inspiration strike while Chir worked. His own hunting blade - once his father's - had been made from the rib of a boar. In comparison, the Felines' ribs were more slender and with a sharper curve that would fit readily into a more delicate hand. Perhaps he could fashion one as a gift for Siro to use for herb cuttings or the like. A bone knife was a crude tool, but effective when carved well. Decision made, Chir broke off three and wrapped them in a spare strip of cloth before tucking them into the waistband of his pants.
With the meat packed away and the others still involved in their own dealings, Chir worked himself to muscle the remains of their hunt back out of the river to the other side. With soft grunts, he dragged them up the bank to leave them out in the open for scavengers and the like to make use of the remains.
His task complete, Chir knelt in front of the carcasses and dipped his head in reverence. No one had ever taught him to give thanks after a hunt. He'd had to teach himself the survival tactic, after all. But as a child, it had hurt to kill an animal even if it meant he could eat, so he'd made a habit of thanking them after. He knew it probably mattered to no one but him, least of all the dead animals, but to not do so now felt like it would leave a scar across his soul. So Chironhes gave his thanks before sliding back down the river bank and into the water. He carefully picked his way across, crouching down in the middle to dunk even his head under the surface before returning to the two brothers and their mates, snagging the carcass bags on his way.
Are we ready?
Blood muddied the waters downstream away from their temporary encampment, and it seemed no matter how much he scrubbed, the fabric was still stained from his stabbing the Feline K'dar had punched. With his back facing the others, he took a moment to examine his wounds from the wherry and was satisfied to find them so well healed. All the activity from the hunting hadn't opened up the one along his abdomen that had taken so long to patch in the first place. Crouching down, he sluiced water across his skin, grateful for the chill of it in the heat of the jungle.
He'd just have to toss the shirt when they got back, he realized. If Sironar saw him return with it, his roommate was apt to faint. Donning it now to keep the worst of the sun off his skin while they still had work to do, Chir returned to K'dar's side to help him butcher the Felines and separate them out in the carcass bags he'd brought along.
Content to keep at his task, he had no complaint when K'dar trotted off to speak in quiet tones with his brother. Used to his own company anyway, Chir worked diligently to ensure the carcasses were well cleaned for any useable parts.
The exposure of Feline ribs had a spark of inspiration strike while Chir worked. His own hunting blade - once his father's - had been made from the rib of a boar. In comparison, the Felines' ribs were more slender and with a sharper curve that would fit readily into a more delicate hand. Perhaps he could fashion one as a gift for Siro to use for herb cuttings or the like. A bone knife was a crude tool, but effective when carved well. Decision made, Chir broke off three and wrapped them in a spare strip of cloth before tucking them into the waistband of his pants.
With the meat packed away and the others still involved in their own dealings, Chir worked himself to muscle the remains of their hunt back out of the river to the other side. With soft grunts, he dragged them up the bank to leave them out in the open for scavengers and the like to make use of the remains.
His task complete, Chir knelt in front of the carcasses and dipped his head in reverence. No one had ever taught him to give thanks after a hunt. He'd had to teach himself the survival tactic, after all. But as a child, it had hurt to kill an animal even if it meant he could eat, so he'd made a habit of thanking them after. He knew it probably mattered to no one but him, least of all the dead animals, but to not do so now felt like it would leave a scar across his soul. So Chironhes gave his thanks before sliding back down the river bank and into the water. He carefully picked his way across, crouching down in the middle to dunk even his head under the surface before returning to the two brothers and their mates, snagging the carcass bags on his way.
Are we ready?