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+---- Thread: eating sand no papa (/showthread.php?tid=14888)
eating sand no papa - harland m. - 05-24-2021
[align=center][div style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 8pt; max-width: 65%; text-align: justify; line-height:120%"]Common had grown the saying that time acted as a suitable method to counteract any ailment. There may have been some measure of truth present in old words, applicable if only to rather specific sceneries, for Harland there was nothing but resounding disappointment. Possibly more apt to deem it something else, more befitting a title to brace against resounding best quickened,a frantic drum struck without rhythm. Allow those present about to think he grew restless, found restricting a necessary treatment.
How might heavy tongue speak of all he felt. Too many the nights once whittled away in the curtained space, miniscule grown grand to eyes fresh, embedded into memory the tang, that bitter and sweet concoction of dried and fresh material. He knew his place here where stone was touched by climbing strands, vines and flora obscuring uneven exterior surface, invasion of the interior staved off, words a poor anchor, however. Fresh air all he wished for, a chance to be rid of the cloying aroma, no fault found in simplistic plan.
Arduous the task of rising, the information imparted on the length of his stay once more rising unbidden, lips curling, sour that downward draw. Understandable and to Roan would defer, too limited his own knowledge of medicinal practices, still it may not quell his displeasure. Lengthy the traversal of a rather meagre space, interspersed between a few slow steps a moment to stop. No matter the way weight was shifted agony was assured. One may expect such, motion grown a tedious task, necessitating the quick replacement of paw, yet this only allowed a slower pace.
Relief near palpable in a sigh that graced parted lips as light enveloped, a soothing balm painted along the minimal areas of unobstructed fur. Chin lifted, into it leaned. Never enough, renewed a desire long since abandoned, pursuit likely to only bring about further issue. Before him the jungle lay, inviting the depths brushed in emerald, his thoughts parting, forth drawn one in particular. He had made the choice to never be closed away, a hermit made for a near month, his condition from such assisting his downfall.
Over shoulder vision travelled, among the thin curtain of vegetation sought movement. The seconds gathered, passed into minutes, his doubts dwindling. Never would they truly be dispelled, even as his motion began once more, the intervals to rest his aching body paired with an inspection of the surrounding landscape. Nothing to be seen, thick the cluster of vegetation, the underbrush dancing about, reaching and grazing with feathered edges. Homesickness clung, worked into his chest, a cool pressure wound about each rib. Expected, old companion found in the days preceding the closure of his first year, noted with a faint sense of incredulity that it had lessened, prominent still but eased in some minor fashion.
Ponderance put off as the sounds that found home beneath the canopy abated, replacement hushed, the forward charge and retreat of the tide, voices joined in conversation without defined words, work performed and the exertion made evident in a chorus. Forward ears swivelled, unconscious pull drawing corners upward, pushed aside as mind turned. By no means would Harland disregard the affection he bore, budding as it was, for these people but to ignore, brush aside the atrocities of only days past, something he felt incapable of. Complicated the whole issue for to them owed his life, a mere trinket he readily gave, had done so once before. Nostrils flared, heavy the breath that escaped in a sudden rush. Thoughts for another time.
From the jungle he stepped, momentary stopping as he adjusted to the harsh light, midday shrouding the more open expanse in bright light. Felt those who stopped their own work, turned curious eye to him. The purpose for this he may only formulate a poor guess at, some surely knowing what his disregard would bring, maybe others more knowledgeable of his method of welcoming one of their own home. Heat scoured his cheeks and hast quickened his pace, unheeded the manner his body protested, uncared for everything except escape.
In this he was successful, to a degree at least, open sand replacing the worn paths, few those present. Given a chance to slow he did so, though it proved detrimental. Known the effects, spoken of the limitations as he healed, excessive the damage to various muscles. As it was largely internal nothing may be done for it, tended to the puncture and mess that was made of his back, left up to time his shoulder. Within that moment he knew a mistake had been made, too far pushed his body in the process of healing, rigid grown his muscles. His forward pitch was announced only by a cut off cry, outward spreading his legs, a small mercy the closure of his eyes.
Nothing may be done otherwise, his face squarely planted in the gathered grains, body grown limp as he gave up. For a few minutes, at the very minimum, would he be stuck, bandages shifting as the muscle twitched, claws kneading the sand in a futile bid to have something else to focus on.