It was an overcast day with clouds churning undecidedly from light, pure white to mix with those so dark they seemed a bruised black. A greyness left from the sky?s torrent bit of play did nothing to encourage the smallest of beasts to make a noise.
The thick forest at the island?s south-eastern side gave way a little and opened up. No longer were branches contesting for the sun?s light and a drink of rain. But the branches were mostly bare with much of their leaves on the ground.
Smells were an odd mixture of strong, wet wood from the trees and the wind bringing in the distant scent of salt.
The only noise was the sharp snapping of twigs from boots meeting twigs and underbrush without any care for being quiet. It was the odd mix of smells that had his expression twisting. He had never cared for this part of the island and his stomach had started to complain.
Eyes beneath brown and grey brows scowled as the wind picked up. He shook his head of shoulder length white and brown hair, then threw a part of his cloak over his left shoulder. The effort was then undone, pushing the coarse cloth of the old cloak out of the way to readjust the pack that lay beneath it. His other hand gripped the staff a little above its middle and used it to bat a few fallen branches out of the way.
As he left the woodland, the forest gave way to dead ground. The end of the staff prodded the yellow-brown grasses without any seeming purpose or pattern. His pace was steady and with purpose, not allowing himself to slow too much even when stepping over a fallen tree. A string of curses were muttered as one of the dead branches tore at the already tattered end of his cloak. Without looking, his hand swept back to wrench it free.
When he came to the edge of the swamp, he stopped. Pale blue eyes flicked a look about, scouring every emaciated twig-like tree, the soggy banks as well as the murky, green and brown waters. An occasionally ripple slowly moved the water, barely allowing him the sight of a snake here and there. It was enough to have him cursing again when he heard something just within the darkness of the wood.
With a look cast over his shoulder, he shoved the end of his staff into the water until he found a shallow spot. Trudging on in, with brackish water to his knees, he crossed from one dead bank to the other. Fingers gripped the staff, lifting and circling it outward along the surface of the water to send a very eager serpent flying a satisfying distance away from him before he proceeded up the squishy bank.
As he was shaking the excess water and muck from the end of the old cloak, something caught his eye. With the same motion he had used to send the snake flying, the staff whistled out onto the air and stopped abruptly in the finish of the movement. Though by all appearance he was a man in fifties, the action would have made those ignorant of him wonder. Striking, blue eyes riveted on the sight that had caught his attention. And very slowly, he drew himself out of the half-crouched position that he had reflexively dropped down into.
The thick forest at the island?s south-eastern side gave way a little and opened up. No longer were branches contesting for the sun?s light and a drink of rain. But the branches were mostly bare with much of their leaves on the ground.
Smells were an odd mixture of strong, wet wood from the trees and the wind bringing in the distant scent of salt.
The only noise was the sharp snapping of twigs from boots meeting twigs and underbrush without any care for being quiet. It was the odd mix of smells that had his expression twisting. He had never cared for this part of the island and his stomach had started to complain.
Eyes beneath brown and grey brows scowled as the wind picked up. He shook his head of shoulder length white and brown hair, then threw a part of his cloak over his left shoulder. The effort was then undone, pushing the coarse cloth of the old cloak out of the way to readjust the pack that lay beneath it. His other hand gripped the staff a little above its middle and used it to bat a few fallen branches out of the way.
As he left the woodland, the forest gave way to dead ground. The end of the staff prodded the yellow-brown grasses without any seeming purpose or pattern. His pace was steady and with purpose, not allowing himself to slow too much even when stepping over a fallen tree. A string of curses were muttered as one of the dead branches tore at the already tattered end of his cloak. Without looking, his hand swept back to wrench it free.
When he came to the edge of the swamp, he stopped. Pale blue eyes flicked a look about, scouring every emaciated twig-like tree, the soggy banks as well as the murky, green and brown waters. An occasionally ripple slowly moved the water, barely allowing him the sight of a snake here and there. It was enough to have him cursing again when he heard something just within the darkness of the wood.
With a look cast over his shoulder, he shoved the end of his staff into the water until he found a shallow spot. Trudging on in, with brackish water to his knees, he crossed from one dead bank to the other. Fingers gripped the staff, lifting and circling it outward along the surface of the water to send a very eager serpent flying a satisfying distance away from him before he proceeded up the squishy bank.
As he was shaking the excess water and muck from the end of the old cloak, something caught his eye. With the same motion he had used to send the snake flying, the staff whistled out onto the air and stopped abruptly in the finish of the movement. Though by all appearance he was a man in fifties, the action would have made those ignorant of him wonder. Striking, blue eyes riveted on the sight that had caught his attention. And very slowly, he drew himself out of the half-crouched position that he had reflexively dropped down into.