20 Ash, Year 122
[Closed - Solo]
[Part I]
As soon as they got close enough, though, Hilana didn’t waste any time. She threw the heavy rope net that was attached to the saddle, swinging it through the air to keep the ends open. Her reasoning for doing it this way was two-fold: it bought her time to get her hands on her quarry, and two, it restricted their ability to jump. She knew full well that they could jump from a dead standstill over her head; she’d seen them do it before. But no sooner had the ropes snagged on the horns of the rams was she sliding down the embankment, rushing to get to them before they got away or attracted something else. Hayima’el stayed where he was, unperturbed by the commotion. The aoudads were going in every direction to retreat to safety, but the net kept the two she wanted behind the rest of their herd. She grabbed the horns of the first of them, shifting her weight down to hit the sand and force it with her. By making the head of the quadruped go down, the body would follow, her old training from the herds told her. This was an activity she had done time and again, but she had to admit that usually, it was in much shorter skirts. The long lengths of cotton were getting heavy, considering its ability to absorb water, but there was nothing for it. She had been banking on keeping herself dry, but with the struggling... water was getting everywhere.
Hilana managed to secure one of the kicking hind legs, having trapped the lashing hoof with the noose-knot she had tied in the end, to the struggling ram’s horns, still trapped in the netting. A quick knot meant that it wasn’t going to have an easy time getting up, but at the same time, she was trying to avoid the hooves and horns as she dragged that sheep onto the bank and ran back down for the other. The second ram had all but worked its way free of the net, and Hilana had no choice but to jump on it and tackle it as it came loose, trying to force it down into the wet sands before it could escape. Just like the first ram, it weighed more than she did, and it probably outweighed her by half and some. She felt a searing pain in her bicep as she hit the ground on top of the aoudad, grunting and letting out a hissed “Faex!” She put her knee on its neck, trying to keep it down, while reaching for the corner of the net that was still tangled with the first sheep to help restrain it while she tied it.
And that turned out to be a mistake.
The girl felt the horn slam into her calf now that her weight had shifted, and she cursed again. Hilana forced the sheep’s head forward rather than jerk her leg back on instinct and do more damage to herself. The pain in her arm was forgotten by the much stronger sensations in her leg, and she tied the second ram as she had the first, breathing hard. Every breath hurt, and she was wondering if she had broken a rib, or multiple, and just hadn’t felt it yet. The herbalist knew it was entirely possible; adrenaline was surging through her, and all of this she would be paying for later. But she didn’t have time to linger here; she was bleeding, it was late, and if she gave these beasts time they were going to get away and all of this was going to be for nothing. She hauled herself up the bank, gripping her wet skirts and swearing she was going to find something shorter again for the next time. If there was a next time, considering the way blood was coating her lower leg, ankle, and foot. That was a clarion call to any predators in the distance.
Hayima’el was standing there where she had left him, despite the pulling of the ropes attached to the saddle. “Forward, Hayima’el,” she urged him, holding onto the saddle pad to take some weight off her leg as she clenched her jaw. But she moved with the camel as he did, dragging the struggling sheep up from the bank to the ridge above where he was waiting. Hilana could take another rope now and make a makeshift halter around the first ram’s head and horns, his struggle having helped wear him out, and she didn’t undo the rope securing ankle to horn just yet. She would do that after, once the second one was properly secured. The rope was knotted and tied to the back horns of the saddle, and the Vastii ducked under it to go to the second sheep. The second ram got the same treatment, but most of the fighting had gone out of it by now, considering the unceremonious way they had been dragged through the sand and away from the water. The rope that made the halter of the second ram was tied like the first’s to the saddle, and Hilana took a moment to rest again, one arm around her midsection. She knew she wasn’t bleeding, but she felt like someone had taken a club to her and had given her a number of thumps for her trouble.
She made her way back down the bank a third time now that her prizes were secured. Her breathing was hard, her heart hammering from the adrenaline. The pain had been pushed out and away for now, and with luck it would stay out of the way until she was done. Her hair was a complete mess, the water having made her curls go utterly wild. But still, she used the water in order to clean her wounds, flushing them out before trudging back up, holding her heavy skirts off to one side, gathered in her arm, to keep her leg free of the heavy, sodden fabric. From her saddle bag, Hilana retrieved the bandages and began to wrap them around her calf, and then her bicep. She used her teeth to help pull the end of the linen tight, knowing that that would do until she got home and could get them looked at. The rams were still making half-hearted struggles in the sands, each of them still with an ankle bound to their horns. She let them exert themselves. It would be easier for when they got back underway as she rested her forearms against the saddle and pressed her head against them, taking another deep breath.
The nomad began to wring out her skirts, the water spilling onto the sands around her sandals as she watched Hayima’el. The camel’s head was up and he was looking around, his ears flicking forward and back. She patted his side, letting go of her skirts. They could dry out the rest of the way on the journey back to the Capital. Her net was next, pulling it off of the rams and bundling and tying it up before finally unhooking the ankles and horns of the rams and using the rope to bundle the net, watching them like a hawk. If she had to, she would use the net to frighten them again into backing off, but she was certain that Deus and Domina were smiling at her. The messy golden-haired sheep just struggled against the new halters and tugged at the camel that was certainly not moving. Just as well, because she didn’t need Hayima’el injuring himself by kicking one of the rams that decided to be stupid if it went that far. ’The gods will always smile on the brave women,’ she remembered her mother’s mother telling her.
The net was tied to the back of the saddle, and Hilana finally came around to her companion’s side. “Hayima’el, down,” she told him, her hand on his flank as the beast lowered himself. Her attention was on the rams, who had gone out the length of the rope to back up away from the piebald bull. Satisfied, the young Vastiana climbed up onto the saddle, gripping the front bar. “Up,” she clicked her tongue, settling in as he rose. It was muscle memory the way that she moved with him as he did so, and she let out a long exhale now that they started back towards the city. He didn’t slow down as the rams tried to dig their hooves into the sand, but with the way that she had them tied, they had no choice. They were stronger than her, but they were not stronger than her camel, and they were soon coming along. She knew she needed to be sharp, because predators would certainly have heard all of the ruckus, and doubtless would smell her blood.
Still, there was a relief to knowing that she was in the home stretch of this effort. She knew how to get back to the city; Hilana knew the way she had come. The stars told her more of a story, and as she sat astride the saddle, her head was on a swivel. She was constantly checking on the aoudads, on the sands around them, and even up in the sky. While she was relieved, she was not relaxed, and she wouldn’t be until the city was in sight. Had she just gone for a walk, things would be different, but considering she had walking meals behind her, and she was a bloody snack on top of Hayima’el, she was tempting enough. The big bull kept up a good pace, his long legs eating up the sand as the moon and stars lit their way through the desert, illuminating their way home. It would be past midnight before she got home, and she knew that she wasn’t going to have much time to rest, if any, once she got in. With luck, Vasilei would give her a bit of a break at work, but Hilana doubted it. Her mentor was not likely to be too pleased with her when he heard about this adventure.
[Part III]
[Closed - Solo]
[Part I]
As soon as they got close enough, though, Hilana didn’t waste any time. She threw the heavy rope net that was attached to the saddle, swinging it through the air to keep the ends open. Her reasoning for doing it this way was two-fold: it bought her time to get her hands on her quarry, and two, it restricted their ability to jump. She knew full well that they could jump from a dead standstill over her head; she’d seen them do it before. But no sooner had the ropes snagged on the horns of the rams was she sliding down the embankment, rushing to get to them before they got away or attracted something else. Hayima’el stayed where he was, unperturbed by the commotion. The aoudads were going in every direction to retreat to safety, but the net kept the two she wanted behind the rest of their herd. She grabbed the horns of the first of them, shifting her weight down to hit the sand and force it with her. By making the head of the quadruped go down, the body would follow, her old training from the herds told her. This was an activity she had done time and again, but she had to admit that usually, it was in much shorter skirts. The long lengths of cotton were getting heavy, considering its ability to absorb water, but there was nothing for it. She had been banking on keeping herself dry, but with the struggling... water was getting everywhere.
Hilana managed to secure one of the kicking hind legs, having trapped the lashing hoof with the noose-knot she had tied in the end, to the struggling ram’s horns, still trapped in the netting. A quick knot meant that it wasn’t going to have an easy time getting up, but at the same time, she was trying to avoid the hooves and horns as she dragged that sheep onto the bank and ran back down for the other. The second ram had all but worked its way free of the net, and Hilana had no choice but to jump on it and tackle it as it came loose, trying to force it down into the wet sands before it could escape. Just like the first ram, it weighed more than she did, and it probably outweighed her by half and some. She felt a searing pain in her bicep as she hit the ground on top of the aoudad, grunting and letting out a hissed “Faex!” She put her knee on its neck, trying to keep it down, while reaching for the corner of the net that was still tangled with the first sheep to help restrain it while she tied it.
And that turned out to be a mistake.
The girl felt the horn slam into her calf now that her weight had shifted, and she cursed again. Hilana forced the sheep’s head forward rather than jerk her leg back on instinct and do more damage to herself. The pain in her arm was forgotten by the much stronger sensations in her leg, and she tied the second ram as she had the first, breathing hard. Every breath hurt, and she was wondering if she had broken a rib, or multiple, and just hadn’t felt it yet. The herbalist knew it was entirely possible; adrenaline was surging through her, and all of this she would be paying for later. But she didn’t have time to linger here; she was bleeding, it was late, and if she gave these beasts time they were going to get away and all of this was going to be for nothing. She hauled herself up the bank, gripping her wet skirts and swearing she was going to find something shorter again for the next time. If there was a next time, considering the way blood was coating her lower leg, ankle, and foot. That was a clarion call to any predators in the distance.
Hayima’el was standing there where she had left him, despite the pulling of the ropes attached to the saddle. “Forward, Hayima’el,” she urged him, holding onto the saddle pad to take some weight off her leg as she clenched her jaw. But she moved with the camel as he did, dragging the struggling sheep up from the bank to the ridge above where he was waiting. Hilana could take another rope now and make a makeshift halter around the first ram’s head and horns, his struggle having helped wear him out, and she didn’t undo the rope securing ankle to horn just yet. She would do that after, once the second one was properly secured. The rope was knotted and tied to the back horns of the saddle, and the Vastii ducked under it to go to the second sheep. The second ram got the same treatment, but most of the fighting had gone out of it by now, considering the unceremonious way they had been dragged through the sand and away from the water. The rope that made the halter of the second ram was tied like the first’s to the saddle, and Hilana took a moment to rest again, one arm around her midsection. She knew she wasn’t bleeding, but she felt like someone had taken a club to her and had given her a number of thumps for her trouble.
She made her way back down the bank a third time now that her prizes were secured. Her breathing was hard, her heart hammering from the adrenaline. The pain had been pushed out and away for now, and with luck it would stay out of the way until she was done. Her hair was a complete mess, the water having made her curls go utterly wild. But still, she used the water in order to clean her wounds, flushing them out before trudging back up, holding her heavy skirts off to one side, gathered in her arm, to keep her leg free of the heavy, sodden fabric. From her saddle bag, Hilana retrieved the bandages and began to wrap them around her calf, and then her bicep. She used her teeth to help pull the end of the linen tight, knowing that that would do until she got home and could get them looked at. The rams were still making half-hearted struggles in the sands, each of them still with an ankle bound to their horns. She let them exert themselves. It would be easier for when they got back underway as she rested her forearms against the saddle and pressed her head against them, taking another deep breath.
The nomad began to wring out her skirts, the water spilling onto the sands around her sandals as she watched Hayima’el. The camel’s head was up and he was looking around, his ears flicking forward and back. She patted his side, letting go of her skirts. They could dry out the rest of the way on the journey back to the Capital. Her net was next, pulling it off of the rams and bundling and tying it up before finally unhooking the ankles and horns of the rams and using the rope to bundle the net, watching them like a hawk. If she had to, she would use the net to frighten them again into backing off, but she was certain that Deus and Domina were smiling at her. The messy golden-haired sheep just struggled against the new halters and tugged at the camel that was certainly not moving. Just as well, because she didn’t need Hayima’el injuring himself by kicking one of the rams that decided to be stupid if it went that far. ’The gods will always smile on the brave women,’ she remembered her mother’s mother telling her.
The net was tied to the back of the saddle, and Hilana finally came around to her companion’s side. “Hayima’el, down,” she told him, her hand on his flank as the beast lowered himself. Her attention was on the rams, who had gone out the length of the rope to back up away from the piebald bull. Satisfied, the young Vastiana climbed up onto the saddle, gripping the front bar. “Up,” she clicked her tongue, settling in as he rose. It was muscle memory the way that she moved with him as he did so, and she let out a long exhale now that they started back towards the city. He didn’t slow down as the rams tried to dig their hooves into the sand, but with the way that she had them tied, they had no choice. They were stronger than her, but they were not stronger than her camel, and they were soon coming along. She knew she needed to be sharp, because predators would certainly have heard all of the ruckus, and doubtless would smell her blood.
Still, there was a relief to knowing that she was in the home stretch of this effort. She knew how to get back to the city; Hilana knew the way she had come. The stars told her more of a story, and as she sat astride the saddle, her head was on a swivel. She was constantly checking on the aoudads, on the sands around them, and even up in the sky. While she was relieved, she was not relaxed, and she wouldn’t be until the city was in sight. Had she just gone for a walk, things would be different, but considering she had walking meals behind her, and she was a bloody snack on top of Hayima’el, she was tempting enough. The big bull kept up a good pace, his long legs eating up the sand as the moon and stars lit their way through the desert, illuminating their way home. It would be past midnight before she got home, and she knew that she wasn’t going to have much time to rest, if any, once she got in. With luck, Vasilei would give her a bit of a break at work, but Hilana doubted it. Her mentor was not likely to be too pleased with her when he heard about this adventure.
[Part III]
