[WP] New Frontiers (Story Thread Only)
Posted: Sun Jul 15, 2018 2:00 pm
Originally posted here.
orion1836 wrote: 12 October 1777
Nathanial Hutchins set out at first light, fording the icy fog surrounding the family's homestead in search of a tree that had fallen in in the middle of the night. By the sound, a massive thunderclap that had set the little one to crying, it had to have been a behemoth. Venturing into the woods of the Ohio Frontier alone was a risky proposition, but Nathan had no other choice. Winter was fast settling in and the family needed every bit of firewood he could find. His father's axe was too big for the thirteen year-old to carry comfortably, but over the past year he had grown accustomed to its awkward bulk. Joining it today, though, was something he rarely carried: the second of his father's muskets. Ordinarily, Nathanial would leave it at home - a last line of defense while he was away - but recent Shawnee attacks required additional caution.
The family's other long gun, a Brown Bess, had followed Nathan's father into war nearly two years ago. The boy wished, as he often did, that he could have followed as well. He had tried to become a drummer, but a sound thumping from his father (along with one administered to the recruiter!) had put a stop to that. On account of his age, as well as his mother and two sisters, he'd had to stay at the homestead.
Since then, they'd had only sporadic word of how the war was going, and none of his father.
While looking for the tree, Nathan figured he'd check the various traps and snares set out along the perimeter of the homestead. He didn't relish the thought of tangling with a wounded animal, but food was food, and he always had his hatchet and prized long knife, just in case. If he was lucky, there would be a nice fat rabbit for dinner today and a new fur for his sisters' blankets in a couple weeks.
The woods were quiet. Not unusual for this time of morning but for a moment, it seemed as if even the air stopped moving. The fog closed in, becoming thicker, and thicker... so dense that Nathan could barely see his hand as he raised it in front of him to ward off low branches. As he stumbled forward, the gray finally subsided, pulling back to reveal the wood. The boy blinked to clear his eyes, sensing that something was off.
The trees were... different somehow. The moss was clearly growing on the wrong side. A morning bird let out a piercing cry; it was unlike anything he had ever heard before.
Nathanial stopped dead in his tracks amidst strange blue-green grass. This was a very different forest than the one he entered, in a very different river valley.
1779 CE, 1320 SYU
Two years later...
Argent swore again as she pushed through the dense foliage. As leader, it had been her decision to bring the diral of Soroin initiates into the woods and now she was forced to deal with the consequences. They could have stayed in the clearing where the flier dropped them off, but to her mind, such an easy choice would have been a sign of weakness. The woods offered shelter, food, and materials they could use to establish camp. She just had not planned on them being this... difficult. Forging ahead, Argent tried not to think about how far she was from civilization. Their trip had taken thousands upon thousands of solon by air... it would take months to walk back if they had to.
Clutching her seii's rough handle, she made one final push... and stumbled into an improbable clearing. Short, hollowed-out tree stumps marked a rough circle around a type of structure she had never seen before. Logs - likely from the stumps around her - had been hacked into an interlocking pattern and sealed with what looked like plaster. A squat stone chimney made of river rock and the same plaster stood connected to one one side of the cabin. Looking up, she saw a thin wisp of smoke curling from top.
The Tadan girl sent a warning to her fellows. Caution... there was someone here. Someone who was good at hiding their sanzai presence.
Was this some kind of test?
Looking around the side of the structure, Argent saw stakes and racks with at least twenty animal skins in various stages of curing. A hunting cabin perhaps? She sent the thought to the others. It made a sort of sense, but this far out in Arran? Whoever lived here would need a vehicle to return to the nearest settlement, and none of her fellows could even see so much as a radio antenna.
Suddenly, the loroi's heart froze as she heard the sound of a door opening on the far side of the structure.