How many days had it been? A fortnight? A month? She'd lost track in the endless horizons of grass forest, and her clan traveling in bursts of speed as much as the wind and open spaces allowed their sails to unfurl.
It'd been forest for ages now, slow-going as the black-horned halla picked their way over stones and old roots ahead of them. The Keeper and his First's magic only did so much to coax old, stubborn trees into letting their aravels pass, though most grudgingly groaned their branches up to clear the way for yellow sails. Their homes rolled on through, Navigators perpetually fretting over sides and sails and wincing at every scraping sound. Understandable, since it was their duty to keep the aravels in traveling condition, and time was running short.
She knew they had traveled half a country to reach the gathering on time, and to miss attendance was to forsake family. Unacceptable, unless there was a very very good reason why. From what she'd overheard, a broken axle or a torn sail was not an acceptable reason.
The halla did their best to pull while the wind was quiet, but Merrill was certain the poor darlings were ready to call it quits. Last night's rainfall had muddied the forest floor, splashing sand and cream colored fur in black muck with every sloshing step. Fine mist cooled already chill air until their breath gusted out in billows of smoke and steam rose from sweaty flanks.
It must have been a month, because the late summer heat was fading, Lena's child was making her look like she'd swallowed a melon, and Nera fussed more like an overzealous first-time grandmother than a Healer. Granted, she was both, but it was still entertaining to see the normally collected woman act so frazzled while simultaneously insisting nothing was wrong. The nerves were infectious, and soon it felt like everyone was strung tight with a mixture of apprehension and excitement.
Merrill had tucked herself away inside Nera's stuffy aravel, huddling under the extra-thick blankets the Healer hoarded. A normally spacious interior was filled with baskets and boxes, shelves of supplies carefully pinned down with woven net and smelling thickly of pungent herbs. Merrill shivered, more from excitement than the cold, the tiny flame hovering between her palms flaring with sparks before she clapped the light out entirely.
"Calm down, da'len."
Merrill shot Nera a small grin, wiggling her fingers as she pulled the edge of a wall's cloth flap aside, peeking out to the misty landscape. She watched the thick undergrowth fall away under pine trees that grew taller and taller, until she couldn't see the boughs unless she pressed her cheek to the corner of the window. The bark was dark and wet from misting rain, tinted a deep sort of red that grew straight upward.
Nera cleared her throat pointedly, and she tied the cloth back into place, fumbling with the knots.
"I can't concentrate when we're so close! It's my first Arlathvhen, and there's so many other elvhen to meet, and Keeper said there'll be food and dance and songs I've never heard, and I'll have to choose my Vallaslin soon, so I should meet with everyone and-"
"Yes, yes, I was there when you were born, da'len. You don't have to remind me how young you are." Nera leaned back, tapping her staff against the wooden floor, swaying slightly as the vehicle tipped up over a bump. Her own Vallaslin cut sharp lines around her eyes, the tattoos shaped almost like leaves splayed out from the wrinkles of her eyes, even as the soft expression edged toward something more worried.
"Why don't you work off some of that energy and run some errands? I have to check up on Lena's child when we stop, but it'd be nice for an update on her condition before we arrive."
Green eyes glinted with knowing amusement - surely, someone would come running if Lena were to suddenly start giving birth. There was no reason to check three times a day, but that wasn't nearly as interesting as-
"Do you think we'll get there tonight? Truly?"
The older elf leaned her head toward the cloth window Merrill had pulled open. "There was a forest of Great Red Pines, wasn't there? We'll definitely arrive before the sun sets. Perhaps..." A small smile twitched the corner of her mouth. "Perhaps we'd get there even sooner if no one had to worry about being thirsty…"
Nera laughed when the young elf rocketed out of her seat and shimmeyed up the ladder to the top of the aravel. Her smile faded as soon as Merrill was gone, weathered fingertips pulling back the edge of a window cover to watch the foggy sky.
Merrill didn't notice the surprise she caused in leaping up, too busy balancing atop the roof and craning her head back to look at the massive trees. Each trunk could have been carved into an arch wide enough to drive their aravels through. She breathed a soft sound of amazement, their tops so far up into the sky they almost seemed to live amongst the clouds. The air was cooler than she was used to, thick with the smell of sap and decaying wood.
"Oof, that's cold." She rubbed her hands together, hunching her shoulders to fold her arms as the mist steadily dampened her shirt and leggings.
"Ahh, Merrill, what are you doing out with bare skin? Get back inside."
She twisted, blinking up at Heneri. A thick scar twisted from cheek to chin, the corner of his mouth pulled in a perpetually tooth-glinting snarl. An old gift from a skirmish with humans and his from own recklessness, a good excuse to smile so that the toothy part was, at least, friendly.
He was grinning at her now, the slope of his brow speaking of worry and exasperation, holding one end of a rope as a Navigator worked in quick movements with the other end and a steering lever.
"I'm building a resistance against the cold!" She declared, deliberately unfolding her arms and shaking them out. Goosebumps seemed to lift every fine hair on her body, even the nape of her neck and scalp bristling up.
"That's not even how that works!" He huffed, already climbing to his feet, "Go put on a coat."
"Try and stop me!" Merrill laughed, swinging down to the aravel's side, landing in a crouch on a bed of thick tree needles. She wiggled her toes in it, standing up to turn around and admire the massive growth as Heneri's halfhearted grumbles faded behind the creak of travel.
An annoyed shout behind her, and she danced out of the way of another aravel, cloven hooves stepping where she'd been standing a moment after.
"Sorry!" She called, and the Navigator waved his hand, keeping the other palm on a halla's shoulder as he guided them and the aravel they pulled through the forest.
Merrill found Lena's easily enough. She ran up, hooking her half-numb feet into the ledge behind a wheel and pulling back a window to poke her head in.
Goodness, it was so warm in there. Almost stiflingly so. The largest aravel was justifiably packed with people, knees bumping across impromptu crate chairs, heads craned to listen or tilted back to nap against other supplies as they traveled.
A half-dozen turned to look at her, but quickly went back to their conversation. A hearthkeeper paused, tilting his head in question to why she was interrupting in the first place as the source of the thick warmth curled in friendly loops around his fingers. A small part of her was wistful at the casual skill, even the smallest fire spirit still beyond her ability. The serpent lapped at the tiny sacrificial cut on the hearthkeeper's finger and she shook her head, trying to focus on what she came here for.
"How's Lena doing? Nera wanted to- Oh! Hello Lena." She spotted the mound of blankets tucked near the front, a tired expression on the woman's face as she levered herself up.
"Well," she started, as Merrill braced herself against the aravel's bump over a root. "I want to vomit, my feet hurt, my back hurts, and I really want some pumpkin bread, but in the sense that she's probably asking, I'm fine. That's all normal."
The elvhen woman grimaced as they went over another bump, palm bracing against her swollen stomach, a normally loose tunic pulled tight enough around the skin that wrinkles didn't even budge.
"Would you like some water? I might be able to find some ginger for your…vomiting."
Lena sighed at her earnest question, flapping her hand. Someone reached up to steady a pot from clanking loudly against the wall as their wheel caught another root.
"Don't worry about it, da'len, I'll be fine."
"Anyone else?"
A few of the other elves waved her off at once, but one perked up, asking for a bit of water if she didn't mind. Merrill took his waterskin, hopping off the aravel and jogging further up the line to find the one keeping their water barrels.
Others of her clan let her pass freely as they walked, asking her to tell so-and-so a message, or to remind so-and-so to do some task. She ended up visiting most of the wagons, ferrying snacks and water and messages between her clansmen, and endured plenty of incredulous stares before she finally admitted that her toes were too numb for all this and she slunk back into Nera's aravel, happily snuggling back into the blankets.
She fell asleep to the soft creaking of wood, and Nera's rumbling purr as the woman combed fingers through her damp hair, warmth and soft light spilling from a tiny flame cupped in the other.
The road went onward. Days of sun, or days of rain. Too many days, and while she was used to their constant roaming, at least give a day to rest in one place!
Merrill tried to keep herself entertained, helping around and losing herself in the meditative weave of basket traps, the gathering of herbs for drying, and twisting together much-needed rope. Days. She'd been making rope for days. Not lost enough, because one could only weave so many ropes on the back of a moving wagon before her joints ached and the looped end of it looked appealing.
So, Merrill scrubbed off mud from tired halla and off the wheels of their aravels. She practiced her magic and shaky penmanship under the Keeper's watchful eye. Supplies were counted, tar re-applied to leaking cracks, fingers stained green to help Nora strip and crush Elfroot for poultices. She hauled water up to camp to boil clean, and picked scales out of her hair after helping prepare freshly caught fish.
Heneri insisted on braiding her hair back after that, pulling the ends up out of her face. She checked to make sure he'd kept the plait utilitarian, fingers immediately finding the twigs he'd stuck in there. He laughed and batted away the pinecone she lobbed at his head. Despite the age difference, she'd have thought he was flirting if it wasn't for the white thread still wrapped around a thin braid behind his ear. If it wasn't for the melancholy look he gave her when he thought she wasn't looking, or the lingering walks with halla as they grazed in the cool mist.
A pretty smile wasn't the only thing he lost in that attack.
The tight growth of massive trees slowly cleared to reveal sprawling, rust-colored sand and sparse grass. Rocky hills rolled out to the horizon, cut into deep canyons, sunlight finally warming her dark, mist-chilled skin.
They paused for a breath, to unhitch the halla for a break and open their sails to dry. Water and food was passed around, restless elves stretching and moving about to stretch their cooped-up muscles while halla sprawled out to stain their pale coats in rust, happy to not move. Merrill gazed out over the unfamiliar terrain, admiring the spindly hunch of storm-toughened trees, shadows where stone collapsed into canyons, and the lazy turn of carrion birds in the distance. Forest had given way to what would have been a mountainside, before eons of river and rainwater carved it down to the bone.
The Navigators were grumbling about adjusting the brakes to account for the sloping path, but all Merrill could see was the red-striped wagons emerging from the forest far to the east. She recognized the body as Dalish in make, but no sails graced their tops. A forest clan? Or at least, somwhere that didn't have the same kind of advantage that the Alerion clan did, coming from the windy grasslands to the north. The caravan was much smaller, too, only three Aravels and a dozen halla between them.
Merrill still jumped in excitement, running ahead past Heneri's leisurely patrol to clamber up a tree, raising her hand against the sun to get a clearer view of them. Bright red paint striped dark wooden sides and wheels, different than the plain, pale sides of their own. A few elves walked ahead, and one of them noticed her eager wave - raising a hand in greeting across the long expanse of patchy grass.
She didn't even realize she'd missed the call to return until Heneri tapped the end of his bow against her foot.
"Are you coming?" She twisted to look at him, steadying herself on a branch, but he was already jogging away from her. It took some dexterity to slither back down out of the spiny tree, red dust clinging to her feet as she ran to catch up. The halla had been herded back onto their feet, trusted not to wander away.
Several elves perched atop each aravel, helping the Navigators pull rope and adjust angles until the sails caught the breath of wind, lurching the loaded vehicle forward. Their herd seemed delighted at the new pace, tossing their twisting horns and quick to trot beside them while leather and wood groaned. Merrill had to jog, then run to keep up.
Any who had been walking between the wagons already hopped on, riding the wind and watching the happy hustle of sturdy deer. Merrill missed her jump, a foot slipping and a hand clasping her forearm even as she corrected herself with a hop to leap up to safety.
"Almost lost you there."
Heneri grinned his toothy smile, helping Merrill up into the top of the aravel. The two of them crouched, a hand braced against the sturdy main pole while another elvhen worked around them to constantly adjust intricate ropes. Thick dust kicked up behind them, thrown by wheels and hooves, buffeted into strange shapes by the wind that pushed them.
The sail-less aravels were advancing quickly, overtaking the back of their caravan and riding abreast of their largest group of wagons. The herd that flowed around them was much darker than she was used to, browns and creams and black markings around their eyes that looked like tears. Someone she didn't recognize hollered at them, waving. Merrill and Heneri waved back, until everyone atop an aravel was shouting gleeful words lost to the wind and laughing as they pantomimed teasing messages to each other. The dark halla surged forward, and Merrill gasped as one of the riders seemed to lose their balance, tumbling sideways and off the edge before catching himself on the back handle of the wagon's top to sweep his arm out in a performative bow.
Heneri hooted his delight, quickly pinching his fingers between his lips to give a melodic whistle of approval, even as several of their other members clapped raucously. She could see the performer's white teeth gleam as he smiled back, long braids bouncing as he pulled himself back onto the aravel's top. The red-painted wagons passed their caravan, dark halla turning as one down into the canyon path they all headed toward.
They rode the wind in their wake, nearly a hundred sturdy deer adjusting their path and squeezing together until the caravan pressed into the shadow of tall rock walls, and striped earth blotted away the warmth once more.
