you are terrifying and strange and beautiful
Grimacing the equivalent of I'm running out of ideas back at Kaisel, short of physically lifting the wagon with his own two hands (which, entirely possible, but let's leave that as a last resort), it's phoenix fire or mud shovelling. It's a good thing, then that the soldier comes through with a compromise, and Ronin nods agreeably and stands his shovel up in a mud pile to straighten up.
"Good idea," he says. "Alright, I'll clear the path ahead and dry it out, make sure the wagon doesn't--" get stuck again is what he intends to say, but he's interrupted by Kai's sudden and dramatic wail, and for a second he honestly thinks that one of the family's kids (named teddy) has gotten spontaneously caught under one of the wheels.
But no, it's not a child - it's a tumsea. (Not just a tumsea, based on Kai's reaction, but nevertheless nothing breathing).
Opting, perhaps wisely, not to get involved in whatever strange new politics have unfolded between the soldier and the family they're helping, Ronin clears his throat and plods through the mud to the area in front of the wagon. He shifts with flame and feather already alight, the large firebird sweeping its wings across the muck to draw out the moisture and send fingers of warmth creeping into the air.
Only once he's satisfied with his work does he shift back, hurrying to the side of the now dry pathway to ensure he's not barrelled over by the wagon when (if) it moves. "Alright, go for it!" he calls, preparing to step in and push as well if needed.
"Good idea," he says. "Alright, I'll clear the path ahead and dry it out, make sure the wagon doesn't--" get stuck again is what he intends to say, but he's interrupted by Kai's sudden and dramatic wail, and for a second he honestly thinks that one of the family's kids (named teddy) has gotten spontaneously caught under one of the wheels.
But no, it's not a child - it's a tumsea. (Not just a tumsea, based on Kai's reaction, but nevertheless nothing breathing).
Opting, perhaps wisely, not to get involved in whatever strange new politics have unfolded between the soldier and the family they're helping, Ronin clears his throat and plods through the mud to the area in front of the wagon. He shifts with flame and feather already alight, the large firebird sweeping its wings across the muck to draw out the moisture and send fingers of warmth creeping into the air.
Only once he's satisfied with his work does he shift back, hurrying to the side of the now dry pathway to ensure he's not barrelled over by the wagon when (if) it moves. "Alright, go for it!" he calls, preparing to step in and push as well if needed.
The Knight
