Bahorel hears 'Ferre's comment and frowns. As they hike, he keeps as hyper-alert as his plane-crash-rattled brain will allow.
The going is slow and uncomfortable. The undergrowth and lower-story vegetation is terribly dense. It's difficult to make clear headway in any one direction without endless rerouting to get past obstacles, or a lot of hacking with a knife and generally getting tangled. Bahorel is in good shape, but the muggy cloying air and the rough going quickly soaks his clothes with sweat. Finally, with a muffled curse, he gives up and pulls his shirt off over his head. With the high canopy above offering protection, sunburn is less important to him that heatstroke.
He doesn't see or hear anything definitive during this first leg of the walk. But he feels what 'Ferre spoke of: a sense of presence and intent, of something bearing down on them. Getting closer....
"I wish it would fucking show itself." He growls finally, as they stop to take a short breather. "We're here. It made sure of that. What more does it want?" He kicks at some offending vines, punctuating his sentences. "It better. show itself soon. I hate. feeling like. something is. hunting me." He reigns his temper in, and stops kicking in order to catch his breath again. This walk was counter-productive enough without wasting his energy.
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branchandroot
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Date: 2013-05-02 10:26 pm (UTC)As they hike, he keeps as hyper-alert as his plane-crash-rattled brain will allow.
The going is slow and uncomfortable. The undergrowth and lower-story vegetation is terribly dense. It's difficult to make clear headway in any one direction without endless rerouting to get past obstacles, or a lot of hacking with a knife and generally getting tangled. Bahorel is in good shape, but the muggy cloying air and the rough going quickly soaks his clothes with sweat. Finally, with a muffled curse, he gives up and pulls his shirt off over his head. With the high canopy above offering protection, sunburn is less important to him that heatstroke.
He doesn't see or hear anything definitive during this first leg of the walk. But he feels what 'Ferre spoke of: a sense of presence and intent, of something bearing down on them. Getting closer....
"I wish it would fucking show itself." He growls finally, as they stop to take a short breather. "We're here. It made sure of that. What more does it want?" He kicks at some offending vines, punctuating his sentences. "It better. show itself soon. I hate. feeling like. something is. hunting me." He reigns his temper in, and stops kicking in order to catch his breath again. This walk was counter-productive enough without wasting his energy.