Camdis Lohir had heard the roar of the river before he saw it, though the sound was more akin to the bellowing of some great and ancient beast than to a body of water. With the spring sun pressing heated fingers to his back and weighing on his shoulders, the horned stallion hurried to reach the banks, thirst at the forefront of his mind while the relic's insistent pull took a back seat for once. In hist haste, the stallion almost tripped over his own mane, his hoof catching on a section of the lengthy locks and yanking rather painfully. Grunting as his lip curled, Camdis shook his head to dislodge the discomfort that had spiked down his neck and continued on, albeit slower and with more care than before.
As he approached the banks, the brute was distantly thankful that he had taken more care with his steps, noticing what looked like an array of skid and slide marks along the shore and leading into the monstrous river. Brows raising, the stallion didn't even attempt to count the number of possible casualties that were denoted by the crumbling banks and the gouges of struggle along the sand and mud - he didn't want to think about another thing that he couldn't do anything about.
Hesitantly, while keeping a healthy distance between his body and the river's edge, Camdis followed the path that the water had carved into the jagged earth, silvery eyes half searching for the relic, half searching for a solid place to press his hooves. At last, after what had only been a few moments but what felt like ages, the bloodied bay found a mostly flat boulder that jutted out into the raging waters, it's existence defiant in the face of such treacherous footing. Carefully, the healer-to-be placed a single, massive hoof upon the stone, relief flooding him when it didn't move.
Emboldened by the sturdiness of the boulder, but with trepidation still dogging his steps, Camdis Lohir made his way slowly toward the edge of the rock before lowering himself to his knees and stretching his head toward the frigid river. As soon as the cool waters touched his lips, the stallion sighed happily, drinking deeply and greedily until his stomach was bloated and achy. Raising his head before lowering his body to the rock, Cam lay with contentment enough, eyes straying across the foamy surface and to the far bank, lost in thought.
The long road had taken a toll on Martin's body. Travel-dust and old sweat clung to his skin in a thin film that, while hardly visible against the pale earthy tone of his coat, nonetheless itched and nagged at him more persistently than the most tenacious cloud of flies. While he'd not yet run across the sovereign of these lands, he had nonetheless decided independently that he intended to hollow out a place for himself here. The next step in that process?
My god, please take a bath.
But such was easier said than done, as Illuster Meadow had been completely devoid of water suited to the task at hand. He'd had to follow the sound and scent of running water until he came to the roaring river's edge, then followed it north until he ran across a slower-moving tributary and hurriedly splashed into it until he was thoroughly drenched.
Despite a quiet upwelling of the urge to recoil away from the water - a sensation with which he had privately struggled his entire life - the cool water washing over his coat felt about as close as anything ever had to heaven. He thanked the gods above and below, wondering suddenly if the patron gods of his homeland could hear him here. If they could not, were there others? To what unseen benefactor did he owe the pleasure of his new home?
The unicorn bounded out of the shallows, shaking himself dry before committing again to his northward hike along the main artery of the river.
From his path along the river's sturdier banks, Martin could only just make out the curved horns of the stallion lying on his rather precarious boulder down by the water's edge, and protective instinct immediately bade he investigate. "Are you all right?" he called as we drew near. What he intended to do if Camdis was injured, though, was a mystery.
It roared, like a slumbering lion, easy to hear even from a distance as a soft purring. It called to itself, white waters demanding attention from the lonesome wayfarers that walked the forest paths. Kaladin was one of these forelorn travelers - he had heard the river's call, and decided to answer.
He followed the white-water rumble, weaving between closely-packed pines and striding across mossy earth, cool against his hooves. He had to pause, briefly, to relish in the sensation. All his years spent in a stone tomb, he had wished to understand what it felt like, to simply walk across the wild paths of the forest, to know the brush of tree branches on his flank and touch of ferns against his cannon bones. The ground was soft here, like a pillow woven with rotted leaves and lush moss, pine needles buried beneath the layer of musky earth. The earth's touch was more beautiful then he could have imagine. It freed him, made him feel like he could once again break free of his mortal chains and take to the skies. He would become a howling wind to rattle the trees, or a rumble in the river's white waters.
The thought gave him hope, and drove him onwards into the forest, towards the purring waters in the distance. He had once read in one of the Dawn Court's scrolls that rivers and streams were sources of divine power, capable of washing away the sullied and unpure. Whether that was true or not, Kaladin certainly felt unpure - his legs were speckled with mud and grime, his neck painted with a thin white line of sweat, and his mane knotted and tangled with days of travel beneath changing elements. "Time for a bath," he admitted sullenly. "Mortal bodies are so trivially fragile."
Moments later, he found the river.
He emerged from the forest's embrace onto a rocky shore, greeted with a frigid wind carrying water brine and the scent of fish. The water emanated a refreshing sort of iciness, beckoning in instead of frightening away. He walked along the bank for some time, seeking a shallow entrance where the torrent did not threaten to sweep him off his feet. He found a spot where the river narrowed and calmed, and strode carefully in, placing his hooves gently on the precarious river stones beneath the moving waters. He did not notice the smile that touched upon his lips as the rapids moved against his pelt, cleaning away days of a traveler's weary toil. He moved forward again until he found a deeper spot, then dunked his head beneath the water, eyelids locking down against the sting. He let the river move through his mane, un-tangling it with the gentle touch only nature could bear.
He pulled his head from beneath the surface at long last, sending shimmering water droplets in an arc around him. With quick, telekinetic strokes, he braided the mane back against his neck, letting the wet strands drape across his back. Mood now considerably improved, he continued to move down river, eyes now flicking this way and that in reminder of his true goal - the relic.
He did not find it, but he soon found company instead. And a familiar one at that.
The first one he recognized was the stocky man for the canyon - the one with the eyes like thunder who had demanded the cliff faces chisel him a path. Now, however, he lay still as a river stone, with the briny waters wrapping around his crimson flank. Kaldin narrowed his eyes, unsure whether he should be worried or amused. A moment later, another traveler came towards them, clearly sharing Kaladin's concerns. "Are you alright?" spoke the golden man. In another time, Kaladin would have been utterly fascinated by the sheen of of the his coat and the mechanics of the gem embedded in his chest, but his thoughts currently lay elsewhere.
He sloshed forward the final steps across the river to nudge the burly man unceremoniously with his hoof. "Well, he's certainly alive." He told the golden stranger with a mocking grin.
@Martin @Camdis this post is trash and I apologize
The inquiry at his back, while the concerned note of the unseen stranger's voice was enough to rouse Camdis from his thoughts, was not enough to pull a reply from the beast. Yes, the stain of scarlet upon his neck, chest, face, and horns could be cause of worry for some, but the stallion thought that he looked healthy enough. Technically, he supposed that it was just the work of a kindly soul, a good samaritan just making sure that he was indeed sound of mind and body.
Camdis scoffed at that notion, Sound of mind, my ass.
He'd be sound of mind when he was dead, but for now, he was merely a cranky bastard with a soul turned ancient by all that he had seen and experienced with a body of a man in his prime. It was a shame, truly, that while he could physically live up the potential set by his genetics, he would always stunt himself mentally and spiritually with his own behavior. That he would decide to stunt his growth as a creature of Night and as a King of Nothing, was anybody's guess; Camdis had never been one to care the whys and the hows of his existence, it was useless to ponder these things, but he did it anyways.
The horned stallion would have been perfectly fine with not responding to the voice, to letting the stranger think he deaf or mad or both, and continuing on his merry way. Yes, he would have been pleased with that turn of events, had he not heard the bitingly sarcastic voice of his friend, his Kaladin, over the angry waters. A grin sprang to his lips unbidden, but not unwelcome, at the ram horned stallion's words.
With a laugh, Camdis heaved his body to a standing position and turned toward the pair of equines upon the shore, careful to keep at least part of his attention turned toward the vicious waters at his back and side.
"Don't sound so disappointed, you old nat," He called over the sound of the river, massive hooves picking their way across the surface of the boulder and toward the stranger and his comrade, eyes of moonlight and storms glinting with something close enough to mirth. As he neared, he slowed, coming to a stop a comfortable distance from the bronze stag and a pale unicorn with a tail stolen from lions. Cocking a hoof and leaning to the side, ever the relaxed man, Camdis inspected the stranger, noting his lithe features and the golden accents that dipped his edges in gold and elegance.
Peering sidelong at the stranger for a moment more, Camdis decided introductions were unnecessary in the face of the unnamed male's presence and he simply rolled his shoulders in a semblance of a shrug, nodding lazily in his direction, "I'm well enough without this damn river trying to make me it's next meal." Turning his gaze upon Kaladin, Camdis' grin turned into a friendly smirk, lips twisting almost haughtily as he eyed the damp spots littering his friends' hide, "It seems it almost got you, eh?"
