Journey of the Mire

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Damn it.

Beren quickly rifled through the sticks and leaves he'd thrown in the stone circle they'd found when they arrived, but for the life of him couldn't find the steel he'd dropped as he attempted to light the fire. Already on his first day he'd screwed up and lost an important tool—at least it was his steel, so he'd be the one taking the inconvenience. Plopping onto his rear, he glanced over at Ana, who seemed to want to do the cooking instead. Feeling a little dejected, he realized it was probably for the best.

Might as well help where I can, though. She said to grab some dry wood—rubbing some of the wood he'd collected between his fingers, he realized he hadn't been exactly picky with his selections. Scattering the useless materials he'd collected from the circle, he rose to his feet.

"The stones are already in place, and it seemed to serve the previous owners well enough," he stated, responding to Ana and Elm's directions. "I'll go grab some better wood. I'm—" he scratched the back of his head awkwardly, the continued with a quieter tone. "I'm having some trouble lighting the fire."

Moving off towards Vriz had directed—Beren didn't mind getting a little scratched up—he called over to where Thora had taken respite. "Hey, Thora! Wanna come help me 'n' chat?"
 
Devin laid down beside the stone pit, his head against Danny Boy who was resting. In his hands was his bouzouki, a string instrument similar to a guitar. He was tuning it, watching Beren struggle with lighting the fire. When the man gave up and decided to go off calling over to Thora, Devin thought to himself.​
I've the stuff in my bag for torches. If they can't get wood for a good fire, hopefully its just enough to make a small one. We can use one of the rags and the oil to help start the fire if it can't catch. The Crone can work with her root over the flame of a torch, and supper can be cooked if someone can keep a pot stiff on the flame.
He listened to the strings of his instrument carefully as he struck them individually, turning the knobs on the head of the bridge to make them hit their ideal notes. For Devin, this would be his first time away from Shadecreek. He'd spent his childhood and early adult life learning the ways of shipwrighting, for it was his family's way of living. He never saw anything outside of the town for there was never a need to leave. It made him nervous, just being away. Even though the quality of life in Shadecreek was dropping due to the lack of trade, there were thoughts in the back of his head that were trying to convince him that it would turn around.​
He struck a chord, and the bouzouki was starting to get to the sound it needed to be. As Devin thought about his companions, he came to the conclusion that although it was troublesome that the girl had caught illness from a mistake that it could have just been a test by fate. The Crone, a woman known by the majority of Shadecreek as a healer, was the one who was prepared to take care of the specific ailment that Thora brought upon herself. And although Devin has the gut feeling that she (the Crone) was a good enough cook to make the meal needed to keep the remedy down, she implied Beren should be good enough to take care of the task.​
As simple of the idea was, it came to Devin that he'd never had to work with anyone aside from his father. Team work was a weird concept to him, but everyone in the party seemed to easily take up cooperation. If Devin keeps an open mind, he could learn a lot from his companions. I guess it could be said he struck a chord with himself.​
The bouzouki was finally tuned. Devin started strumming along, playing something reminiscent of what we'd consider Irish folk music.​
 
In response to Beren's question, Thora dramatically grabbed at her stomach and fell to the ground. "I can't," she called, "I've been slain!" She grimaced. "It is starting to hurt, really."

"You just lie down," Rook advised. Thora stuck out her tongue in rebuttal, but did as she was told. Hiding a paternal smile, Rook dropped his pack. Behind him, Fiona guided Alette to somewhere she could sit near to the circle of stones.

Woodaxe in hand, Rook gestured for Beren's attention. "Come on, let's get some wood."

Realizing getting the little girl to move about was probably a bad idea after all, Beren joined Rook and his axe. While he had been hoping to pry forth some hints as to what Thora might want to eat, her father was likely the next-best thing. After years of raising the twerp, he was bound to know something about his daughter's preferences.

"Thanks," he replied.

Rook cleared away some of the bramble in front of the future firewood with some help from the axe. It came away easily enough, and soon enough there was enough space for the two of them to reach the wood without getting caught on thorns. "Don't get too close while I'm chopping," he warned.

As if to punctuate his words, Rook's next swing almost took off Beren's leg, and the young man flung himself back in shock.

"Y-yeah, of course..." he muttered, gathering some long-dead sticks while he waited for Rook to produce some usable hunks of wood. "So, Rook, any idea what Thora'd want to eat?"

Rook scratched his beard. "We aren't fancy with our meals," he admitted. "Pottage and whatever fish I can catch, mostly."

"Oh, right." It's not like anybody else ate anything but that. He allowed the silence to stretch for a moment. "I've been wondering. I get why you left 'n' all, same as the rest of us. But why us? Mean, we're all just kids, 'cept the crone."

Chopping off a larger branch, Rook tossed it to Beren to carry. "The only children here are my daughters. Anyone else claiming they are is trying to get out of responsibility." He huffed as he got ready to begin chopping again. "And try to be more respectful than 'crone' when talking about Mathilore. She's lived a long life, longer than any of us probably will."

Catching the wood from Rook, Beren rolled his eyes. "I don't mean children, but we're all so young. And you're—" he frantically searched for something to say that wouldn't be construed as a jab. "You're a father. There's just sort of a gap, y'know?"

"You'll find us fathers," Rook began, stressing the word to show he hadn't missed the underlying thought, "to be very set in our ways. It's the younger folks that will give up their old life to move on to greener pastures." He handed Beren another branch before picking up a few more off the ground for himself with one hand, the axe still in the other. "This is enough wood, come on," He said before heading back towards the others.

Beren followed along, wood hefted in his arms. At least they could start a proper fire now.
 
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“I've shot my brother’s bow a few times for target practice but I’m not really sure how good I'll be on a real animal. However if no one else is wanting to do so I’ll be more than willing to accompany you.” Kendra said in response to Elm’s question while internally reprimanding herself for the lack of knowledge when it came to hunting or fishing. When she first came up with the idea of leaving town she didn't have to worry much about being able to find food knowing that Bryant would be there and would have the experience to provide but his passing showed her that relying on others might not always be the best thing to do. If he got hurt on the road instead of before the two planned to leave Kendra knew she wouldn’t have the knowledge or experience to survive on her own. Even with the five extra months she could have used to prepare for the journey she wasn’t slightest bit more prepared than she was if she left earlier. Thinking back to what Ana said about her sword and Thora with her incorrect assumption of what an herb was, she knew that she wasn’t the only one lacking experience. There would be a lot her and the others will have to learn if they were to make this trip a success.

Taking her knapsack off her shoulders, Kendra knelt down to search her pack. “Here Thora.” Kendra said pulling out the blanket she packed and handed it towards the girl. “As long as your father is forcing you to lie down, you might as well get comfy and stay warm until the fire is lit.” The woman said with a slight jest to what Rook said earlier.
 
Mathilore looked up at Vrisette's shout. It was somewhat rude to yell instead of coming closer to speak at a reasonable level, but she couldn't really be surprised. Children these days seemed to be lacking in proper instruction in manners. At least it was just a bit of shouting instead of anything outright crude or disrespectful. Mathilore squinted a bit to see the twig the girl held up. Since it was a choice between battling her creaky joints to stand and walk over to Vrisette or return the shouting, she decided she might as well shout since the proverbial cat was already out of the bag.

"It should serve. Thank you, child. Bring it on over here, if you wouldn't mind." Mathilore took another look at Vrisette, considering her own words. She spoke again in a lower voice, talking to herself more than anyone else. "Child? No, marriageable age at least. Hrm. Odd choice of word then. Hope I'm not becoming one of those ancient hags who look at anyone younger than them as a child. Might be insulting to some." Mathilore sighed and turned her attention back to the root, carving out the start of the hole for the stick a little wider to be ready for the one Vrisette had found.
 
While she had already made the stone circle, Ana decided to give the warning heed due to the condition of the grass, and thus grabbed a few bigger and smaller rocks to surround the circle and prevent the spread of the fire. It was in that moment when she smiled upon receiving the wood to create the fire proper... And frowned in worry when it took a while, particularly with the steel apparently lost in the wood. They might have to search for another--

Ana blinked. "Have you found the steel?" She put her sword in her lap while putting her pot with the water and herbs, "I'm going to have to sharpen it when we get to civilization, but... if... it becomes too hard to find the steel slab, we can stab the sword on the ground and try lighting a fire with it. Just... just be careful. I don't want anyone hurt making a fire."
 
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