1629, Fire Season, Movement Week, Fireday to Wildday
Context
Half a day after the dragonewts reburied a city out of time. S5.O-15.
Events
Berra is walking her horse through the grazelands. Followed the Bison is following, on a mid-length lead-rein. Berra has sent Nayale out as a rider, to do a loop of the area, and come back to let her know what it looks like as they travel.
The young Narri has made her loop and comes riding up behind the group, playing catch up.
Berra turns to walk backwards for a moment as Nayale comes into earshot. “Anything?”
“Nothing to report.”
Nayale reins her mount in as she nears her commander.
“Gneh. Anything … nah, I’mma gonna take that. Tell me how you’re doing.”
The young woman shrugs. “It was a good ride. I like being able just stretch out like that from time to time.” She strokes the horse’s neck. “Not a clan horse, but good enough for now.”
Berra grins. “You can’t afford a horse,” she joshes. “Yet.” There’s a promise of future success in her voice.
Nayale grins as she imagines it.
“But… That wasn’t what I mean. How’re you in general? You’ve been having troubles lately.”
“I dunno. Keeping busy and trying to do what I need to do, I suppose.” She shrugs again, before adding a belated “Lady” to her statement.
“Mhm. So, you’ve got some issues. I ever tell you that once in a Heroquest, I found myself playing Humakt’s Fear?”
“No… you did?”
“Yeah. Interesting that it appears, really. I mean, people think he can’t have known fear, because of what he is, yet there I was.”
Berra grins, letting Nayale form her own conclusions.
“What would he have feared?” Nayale asks, despite her obvious doubt.
“I think you should tell me that. What do you think the God of Honour and Death might fear?” Berra finally turns to walk forwards again, as the ground gets rough around some rocks.
Swinging off the horse to walk beside Berra, Nayale muses. “Dishonour?”
“Why?” Berra shoots it back fast. “Don’t guess. Think about why.”
“Because Dishonour leads to mistakes and failure and well… dishonour. It’s bad for the world.”
“So, dishonour, or being dishon’rable? Are they the same thing?” It sounds like Berra has thought about it.
“They are the same.”
The older woman nods. “What else might bring fear?”
“A wasted death?”
“I dunno what that means. How’s it different from a wasted life?” Berra looks confused, in her scrunched-up-face way.
“Just… something stupid, like dying from falling when you’re a god. I mean… he’s a god. Why would he fear anything?”
“Well, interesting. Do you think the gods have free choice? Because he’s not just a god – he’s something we can experience alive right now, as a Hero. An’ he’s a force we can hardly bear to touch. He’s the model of us. Does that mean Humakti don’t fear?”
“We’re less than gods. Poor images, weak copies, followers and worshippers. Not gods themselves. The closest to him are heroes, like Lord Eril. I bet he has no fear.”
“So how could I be Humakt’s Fear?” Berra gives Nayale the side-eye. “You callin’ me a liar?”
“No!” Nayale protests sharply. “I didn’t mean it like that. I guess I’ve just never imagined it as possible.” Her voice trails off as she stares at the ground in front of her.
“Yeah.” Berra seems to be agreeing. “I want you to know that is it. I mean, that it is. Because when you feel fear, even the god did.”
“So what is bad enough to scare even Humakt himself? Is it another god?”
Berra shrugs. “It was his task. He feared to go on, and to go back, and he feared to fail. Anything could bring that fear, but it was inside him, not attached to another god. He wasn’t afraid of something in particular.”
Nayale considers this for a while as her horse obediently plods along beside them. Finally, she says, “When I’m afraid, I’m afraid of something. Crocodiles, losing Harmakt, failing you. I’m even afraid of not having enough to eat, despite knowing I can last for days on very little. But, when I feel fear, I know what I’m afraid of.”
Berra gives that a bit of thought. “I think when anyone is afraid it is of something, but failing is a something. I think. Whaddyareckom?”
Another shrug. “Yeah. Failure is something.”
Berra nods. “So what’s your fear? Your one thing? I think I know mine.”
“But I’ve already told you!” Cheeks reddening with frustration or embarrassment, Nayale says, “I didn’t think I was afraid of anything, but since the crocodiles at the river, I’ve realised that I’m full of fear!”
Berra nods. “So, like him.”
Nayale gapes.
Berra just keeps on walking.
“What are you afraid of, Lady?”
The Priestess shakes her head. “Ain’t a thing I’m saying. My High Sword knows, though. An’ the Wyter. They don’t get me not saying.”
Nayale mulls this over. “You knowing my fears is alright because you’re my commander. You can push me or not as you decide is right. But… no one else should know.”
“Yeah. I report up the line but they only know what they have to. You get to learn to walk alongside yourself. Most people know fear of something. You’re not the only warrior, all on your own, here.”
Again, the young woman mulls this over for a time. She rolls her shoulders under the worn straps of her armour and straightens her spine. “I won’t let my fears rule me, Lady.”
“Think on it tonight, and as we travel, then. And maybe now tell me about the horse you want.”
Nayale grins and launches into a description of her perfect horse, not even once apologizing to the animal that plods along beside her.
