Thread: Ari's Ponderings- Journal

The breeze streamed westward, catching upon leaves and brush, twig and trunk on its passage way through the quiet forest. No chirp of bird nor scattering of rodent. No deer were to be seen within the vicinity. Shadows were not cast as the skies above beheld billowing gray peaks and darker places flowing quickly above the forest. The storm was approaching and with it the impending doom to the figures who waited, hidden so carefully from view. Their silent vigilance blended into the foliage from hidden nooks and holes. Their azure painted faces covered with mud and clay, smeared across mostly bare skins save for the natural additions of leaf and moss. The energy nearly crackled as it was picked up and carried forth with the dance of pivots and swirls of the wind moving down stream. Bow, spear, knife, sword. These were the hand crafted weapons resting within well practiced hands, poised and in position as all eyes traveled seeking motion as ears listened on the winds for the sounds of the enemy. Halt! came the command from the Roman Centurion, fist forming and raised into the air from horseback. The dark mare pawed at the earth, spewing hot breath out into the early morning mists as her master pulled the reigns and caused her to pause in her gait. The moss covered ground gave way to the metal nailed into her foot, which flicked the small chunks out and behind. Several horsemen drew their reigns as well, turning to line up beside their superior. The day was overcast so the craftsmanship of metal adhered to leather and shaped into armor did not reflect and give their position away up on the hill. Such position gave the squad a long range view of the forests below. Only one disadvantage was that of mists having risen from the earth, lingering in flowing patches out from the treeline. The centurion spent several passing moments in quiet observance mulling over the possible outcomes of passing through the trees or riding around them. Each option was weighed and found neither were inviting. More than likely the native tribes of celts and druids lay in wait among the forests protection. It would save him and his men hours if not an entire day to pass through compared to the two days to ride around. Their orders were to make it to a fortress on the opposite ridge many miles away, secure it and prepare it for winter. The weather here was miserable and damp, constantly seeping in seeking out the bone until a man shivered even while a warm woman's body lay beside him. It seemed no amount of heat could ever hold the chill of these islands at bay. We ride around, came his final decision. He had need of each one of his men for it would take months to replace any of them with no promise the next was an actual able and skilled body. Scouts, pull out ahead and hunt for our evening meal. Do not go into the woods for I feel we are even now being watched. Heels dug in as two horses began trotting off along the higher ridge. The rest moved into a single file walk to tarry after. Seeing the movement of foreign men drew the signaled sound of quail. Chirps and coos that woke the forest up into motion as leaves rustled and brush grew feet. The people of the lands began a slow migration to shadow and trail the horses path above the mists along the ridge.