Devil's Tower

Who: Peri and Windchaser
What: Peri's first visit to the trading post
Where: On the River outside the Trading Post
Rating: G right now, will increase if necessary

It had been a very long winter for Peri, but it hadn’t been one any more remarkable than any other she had gone through since the Ans Virus had taken everything away from her. Peri looked slight on a normal day when she was well fed, but after the winter where the tribe had lost a good portion of their food to the elements she was hardly more than skin and bones, and even her abnormally large chest seemed merely normal within her overly thin frame. The winter still plagued her farther than her frame showed though as a slight case of pneumonia had struck her during the winter months. Having known her own infectiousness, she had isolated herself from many and to most she was already done for. Anyone who knew Peri, however, knew she was far heartier than most among their ranks. Thus few were surprised when she came back into the fold of the tribe, slightly wheezy, but no worse for ware than any other. Working in front of her kiln had been her saviour, as it not only kept her warm, but had also provided her with what she would need to recover.

That was what had brought her to the trading post that first morning after the Rivers had finally released their crafts enough to make it freely around the River. Having worked in front of her kiln all winter and having rarely parted with anything meant that she had a stockpile or earthenware to sell and the first thing that she would be trading for was food. It was not only for herself, but also for all those in her tribe and the loss of their storage had made twigs of them all.

It had seemed like hours since she had left the Winter Camp, but the sun was barely past the 9th hour when she spotted the familiar dock awaiting her. As she placed her pole on the deck, she felt the muscles in her arms more than she thought she could ever remember having. Again this was not true, but after the long winter she was sure she was totally unfit, though not many would have been foolish enough to take on the wily girl. She may have been small, but she knew how to get herself out of trouble, a quality that had meant her survival before tribe life had brought more security to her life. Reaching out to the familiar T-Head on the dock, she tied her line efficiently to it and then stepped of the boat onto the dock. Her step showed nothing of having been on the water, as there was nothing to show. Instead it was one of ease and confident as she walked to where the dock met the land.

Looking around she found that not many were around, but she knew that come noon there would be more. It was never a quiet time when the River Runners came back to the Trading Post. She wasn’t sure how many would come today, but she had left ahead of most because she wanted the time to sort through her wares and place them out for display properly. Smiling and nodding at a face she knew although the name that matched the face escaped her, she turned on her heel and walked back to her small boat. Stepping back on deck she felt an enthusiasm build within her. It had been some time since she had interacted with any that were not Runners and she wondered quietly how many new faces there would be this year and how many old ones would be gone.

Who: Ryder and Ace
What: Ace shows Ryder what happens when someone hurts Danni
Where: The burnt ruins of Ryder’s cabin
When: Mid-morning Wednesday

Ryder hadn’t been back to his cabin since the night of the fire when he’d walked all the way to Grffin’s place in the main canopy. He hadn’t even looked for his horse yet and she hadn’t turned up at the main camp like she had other times when she dissappeared in the past. On Monday he’d gotten up enough gumption to write Danni a letter. He didn’t know how he really felt about anything at the moment. All he could think about, all he could feel, was an emptiness- deep and dark. It was probably one of the worst letters he’d ever written, but at least he felt somewhat accomplished- as if he’d successfully closed that chapter of his life.

It wasn’t until a Wednesday in early Spring that Ryder decided to return to his cabin. He figured his mopey figure was starting to get on Griffin’s nerves. He didn’t know if he even wanted to rebuild the cabin. It felt like everything he’d worked for in the last two years had been pulled out from under him in a firey blaze. He didn’t know what pieces to pick up or where to go next.

When he arrived at the cabin he sat his bag on the ground and stuck his hands in his pockets. The cabin had been reduced to a blackened carcass, picked clean by the elements and who knew- maybe a couple of drifters as well. He walked to the edge of the shiny black pile that was once his home. An image from two years ago flashed before his eyes. His incinerated ranchhouse; the burned remains of his crippled mother. God, how could anyone go on living after seeing those things- those horrible things that swept the earth at the height of the virus.

He knelt next to the cabin with a sigh and made the sign of the cross. The earth was cool and the layer of moisture buried just beneath the soil seeped through the knees of his jeans. He began a low prayer out loud, in Spanish. He prayed to the Virgen de Guadalupe for something to pull him out of the darkness that had taken all his joy away. He prayed for some reason, or some way to go on.