The Search Begins
This is apart of 'The Great Ones', a Camp Willow plot. Read the [[[The_Great_Ones_Aren%27t_Here|introduction]]],[[[The_Great_Ones%2C_Part_One%3A_Under_Siege|Part One]]], and [[[Page_not_found|Part Two]]].
Setting
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<----> Camp Willow - Dock <---->
As you walk aboard the dock, you can see out around the whole inlet. The wind sways around the reeds and cattails, making them sway in a breeze. Mostly you can here out here is the gentle lapping of the waters against the wood. Peering below, you can find many different fish swimming underneath the dock. Also you're able to see minnows that swim around in schools, mainly around the posts that are holding up the planks. Iron hooks stick out, holding up some canoes and logboats against the dock.
Characters:
Lutea, the Taggerung
Juniper, a priestess
==
<---->The Search Begins<---->
==
|Part Two|
If the Northern invaders had stayed longer, perhaps they could have learned all of the secrets which Camp Willow hides among the reeds - every nook, every cranny, every path. As it were, they merely scratched the surface, and it is only for this reason that a few, battered old canoes managed to escape the carnage and the flames. One of these surviving vessels - a small thing is lashed to the dock, a few sad bags of meager provisions stashed in the bottom. "Sorry, s'all we could spare, given th'circumstances." One of the Willow residents is mumbling, nodding towards the little vessel bobbing in the water. "S'more than enough!" Lutea beams, clapping him on the shoulder. "Go 'elp th'rest get kickin', yeh?" She winks, and drops the hooked staff into the bottom of the tiny boat. They have volunteers, of course, family members of those missing, warriors seeking redemption, and other residents just looking for some time away.
Juniper stays close to the boat, not appearing nearly as sociable as her moon half. The otter presses her paws flat together and bows at the Camp Willow residents that have gathered. "You have honored us with what you could spare. We couldn't have dreamed of even asking for this much." She raises up from the stiff bow and looks to Lutea for leadership that Juniper has subtly put on the shoulders of the moon otter. Her tail sways behind her as she grabs one onto a piling and puts a foot down to steady the vessel. Her sword is delivered down into the boat with a bit more care. "Ready, Lutea?" Juniper asks quietly.
And Lutea is /more/ than happy to leave all of the eloquence to her solar half. She really is the sol of the operation, amIright? The Taggerung flashes their send-off a grin and a salute, and then steps into the canoe as Juniper steadies it. She settles at the back, nudging a few things from between her feet, and picks up the second paddle. She is happy in the back, more suited to provide the mindless power that comes from the position than she is for steering - although they won't have to even think about that for awhile. The current should do the good work for them, which helpful on the start of a journey - inertia and all that. "'Course!" She grins, settled in and ready to get going - movement is good. It's the natural state of the tides, the currents, the fish; it's been her livelihood for a long time. "Let 'er off, we've got 'eads t'knock." Canines flash in a savage grin.
Juniper drops down into the boat and picks up her own paddle as she checks around herself for rocks or other obstacles. Finding the river to be free and clear, Juniper holds her paddle across the bow and glances back. "Thank you!" the otter calls as she lets go of the dock. Her webbed fingers wiggle against the paddle as the canoe seems to be doing a good job of picking itself along. Everyone in a while the otter of Sol digs the paddle in and makes sure they stay close to the middle. "Doing okay back there?" Juniper wonders with a glance down into the river to look at Lutea's murky reflection behind her.
By the time Juniper turns around, Lutea has - in every sense of the word - made herself right at home. She is laid from one side of the canoe to the other with arms and legs hanging off the respective sides. "Never better!" She grins back at the sun otter, somehow, is able to comfortably twist in a way that keeps her rowing, when necessary. This is what Juniper gets for going for a boat ride with a fisherman's daughter. "Comfy up there?"
When the reflection is... shorter than she remembers, Juniper turns and lets her eyebrows climb upwards. "Wow," is all the otter replies at the impressive display of both laziness and efficiency. And then she notices the canoe drifting towards the bank and she has to twist to j-turn them back into the middle. "Uh, yup! I like steering." Her feet tap on the boat and she sits for only a moment. "So... you haven't told me about the moon yet. Your moon. I guess it might be different than my Luna."
Lutea is efficiently lazy, and lazily efficient. "Jus' let me know when y'wanna switch." She drawls, dipping her rudder in to help create drag during Juniper's turn. "Our moon... Is hard to explain. Th'elders always called it a 'she', but we never thought of 'er as a livin' thing t'interact with. Without us, little changes, but without th'moon there's no tide, a black nigh', an' no /time/. The moon performs her duties whether we are there or not. She controls th'sea, an'she doesn't take much mind to us - but it isn't neglect, it's life. The sea is our livelihood, the moon gives tha' to us. Food, navigation, time - everythin' - comes from it, but life isn' just about living. Y'gotta struggle t'survive or else life isn' a gift, yeah?"
Juniper looks forward as Lutea speaks, most of her energy going into listening while she keeps one eye on steering their little vessel. They float along, the spring air still light and breezy before the heaviness of summer hits. "Aye," Juniper agrees almost dreamily. "I like that. We have similar lessons, but I like how your tribe explains it." Her head tips upwards and she glances at the sun for just a split second. "The moon always seemed kinder to me when I was young. But we are not Luna folk."
"It's like 'ow parents are kind - they give y'what y'need to survive, but they have t'let you weather y'own battles or else you'll never grow t'be strong. Even when storms were rippin' the boats t'shreds it never was..." Lutea's face screws up in deep concentration. Finally, she gives a /very/ proud smile and finishes the thought: "It wasn' /mal-icious/." she over-pronunciates; she can use big words, too! "My home was dark for much'a th'year - months an' months without th'sun risin', so th'moon was our light." She sighs. "Everythin' was silver on th'full moon - I miss tha'."
Juniper purses her lips and bunches her whiskers in a giggle at the emphasized word. Very good! She leans into a portside bow stroke, the canoe steady and true down the center of the river. "W-why?" she asks, sounding shocked at the idea. She may be rather literate, but the idea of a dark season baffles her. "The sun just... l-leaves you?" The idea horrifies her and her voice shakes a little. "How is that possible?"
She hadn't stopped to think how foreign that must sound - Juniper is probably as baffled as she was to learn that the sun /stayed/ in other places! "I dunno... Jus' 'ow it was. Bu' when th'sun would come, we'd 'ave great festivals t'welcome it back. M'mother told me tha' the sun would put th'North out of balance if it stayed too long - everythin' would melt an' the forests would swallow the sea." Lutea shrugs - she never really stopped to /think/ about it, and now the possibilities are making her head hurt.
Juniper's lips have peeled back over her sharp teeth uncomfortably, eyes sunken in with worry at the very idea. "Impossible," she mumbles loosely to herself as she drags the oar against the outside of the boat. The noise startles her and she jolts, trying to mask the reaction with a look back at Lutea. She looks /flippin' freaked out/. "Sounds... dark an' cold an'... an' I just can't imagine! There is no snow where I'm from. Just sun and sands and a stretch of jade colored ocean as far as a beast can see. It only gets cold at nights and if that is how it always was... we'd freeze." The canoe starts to angle towards a tangle of tree roots nearby.
Blissfully unaware of the severity of the freak out her words have caused, Lutea shifts on her bench and keeps rowing, pushing them along with the growing current. "Th'sun would give us enough t'survive an' stock up for th'long night - an' then th'moon would take care of us." She continues, teasing at the water's surface with her fingertips. From her position at the rear, she has some powers of steering - but not enough to keep them totally away from the tree roots they're approaching. "Up 'head!" She calls, calm and nonplussed by the information or the tree. Finally, casting her gaze towards Juniper, she catches onto her discomfort. "Oh, jeez, y'okay?"
To be continued…
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