The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum - View Single Post

piosenniel · 06-20-2003, 05:46 PM

Ealasaid's post

Leading his horse, Ahmad walked slowly through the sleeping Baobab encampment, his ears listening closely for the sound of Qirfah's windchime. It seemed so peaceful to him, so quiet there, without the sense of tension that embroiled his own camp. He hoped the Baobab had managed to evade whatever creeping poison was infecting the souls of his own tribe.

The east wind that had died a moment earlier picked up again, carrying with it the soft tinkle of chimes. He turned in that direction. A great Baobab tree stood directly ahead of him, the sound of the chimes coming from just beyond. Moving cautiously so as to make no sound, he left his horse in the shadows and edged past the tree. He recognized Qirfah's tent instantly. All was quiet save the singing of the chimes. The moonlight cast a long shadow behind him as Ahmad crossed to the very door of her tent, where he stopped and waited for a moment, listening. When he was certain that no one stirred inside, he reached up and touched the shining black stone shards with his fingertips. She was so close. He fought off the temptation to attempt a peek through the tent flap for a glimpse of her. Finally, knowing he must depart quickly or risk being seen, he touched the lowermost shard of obsidian to his lips and turned resolutely to go.

When he reached his horse, he mounted and rode out of the camp at a gallop, no longer caring who he awoke. What he did not see was the slim shape of a young woman, concealed in the shadows of the Baobab tree, watching him.

Pio's post

Lost in her thoughts, Qirfah did not hear him until he was almost upon her. The rhythmic sounds of his mount’s hooves, muffled in leather, broke in on her consciousness just as they passed the tree. Her senses swam to the surface of her dreaming mind, and she gasped as she recognized the horse and rider. The east wind was kind and swallowed the sound in a sudden gust.

So close he came that it seemed she might reach out her hand and touch him. She willed her breathing to slow, her hands to stay at her sides. But the sound of her quickening heart beat pounded in her ears, and she thought all the camp would wake to it.

There in the engulfing shadows she hid from him, her dark eyes following every move. The wind picked up his scent and brought it to her, and she breathed it in – a rich fragrance of leather and horse and spice.

She pressed her slight form against the trunk of the tree, watching as he dismounted, and stole quietly into camp. Her sharp eyes picked out his figure as it drew near her tent, pausing at the closed flap, his fingers touching it, as if he would go in.

‘Let him not enter,’ she murmured to the night. And indeed, he stayed his movement, his fingers rising instead to the wind chime that hung from her tent pole. She could scarce breathe as she saw him kiss it, remembering the touch of those lips on her own.

In a moment of clarity edged with recklessness, she ran the short distance to where he had left his horse beneath the tree. Untying the thin leather cord from about her neck that held a small, pierced shard of obsidian, her quick fingers tied it securely into the horse’s thick mane. Stepping back just as quickly, she pressed herself once again against the rough bark . . . watching as he mounted . . . watching as he rode boldly from the camp . . . watching as his figure grew small in the far darkness and was swallowed up by the night . . .

[ June 22, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]

06-20-2003, 05:46 PM	#47
piosenniel Desultory Dwimmerlaik Join Date: Mar 2002 Location: Pickin' flowers with Bill the Cat..... Posts: 7,779	Ealasaid's post Leading his horse, Ahmad walked slowly through the sleeping Baobab encampment, his ears listening closely for the sound of Qirfah's windchime. It seemed so peaceful to him, so quiet there, without the sense of tension that embroiled his own camp. He hoped the Baobab had managed to evade whatever creeping poison was infecting the souls of his own tribe. The east wind that had died a moment earlier picked up again, carrying with it the soft tinkle of chimes. He turned in that direction. A great Baobab tree stood directly ahead of him, the sound of the chimes coming from just beyond. Moving cautiously so as to make no sound, he left his horse in the shadows and edged past the tree. He recognized Qirfah's tent instantly. All was quiet save the singing of the chimes. The moonlight cast a long shadow behind him as Ahmad crossed to the very door of her tent, where he stopped and waited for a moment, listening. When he was certain that no one stirred inside, he reached up and touched the shining black stone shards with his fingertips. She was so close. He fought off the temptation to attempt a peek through the tent flap for a glimpse of her. Finally, knowing he must depart quickly or risk being seen, he touched the lowermost shard of obsidian to his lips and turned resolutely to go. When he reached his horse, he mounted and rode out of the camp at a gallop, no longer caring who he awoke. What he did not see was the slim shape of a young woman, concealed in the shadows of the Baobab tree, watching him. Pio's post Lost in her thoughts, Qirfah did not hear him until he was almost upon her. The rhythmic sounds of his mount’s hooves, muffled in leather, broke in on her consciousness just as they passed the tree. Her senses swam to the surface of her dreaming mind, and she gasped as she recognized the horse and rider. The east wind was kind and swallowed the sound in a sudden gust. So close he came that it seemed she might reach out her hand and touch him. She willed her breathing to slow, her hands to stay at her sides. But the sound of her quickening heart beat pounded in her ears, and she thought all the camp would wake to it. There in the engulfing shadows she hid from him, her dark eyes following every move. The wind picked up his scent and brought it to her, and she breathed it in – a rich fragrance of leather and horse and spice. She pressed her slight form against the trunk of the tree, watching as he dismounted, and stole quietly into camp. Her sharp eyes picked out his figure as it drew near her tent, pausing at the closed flap, his fingers touching it, as if he would go in. ‘Let him not enter,’ she murmured to the night. And indeed, he stayed his movement, his fingers rising instead to the wind chime that hung from her tent pole. She could scarce breathe as she saw him kiss it, remembering the touch of those lips on her own. In a moment of clarity edged with recklessness, she ran the short distance to where he had left his horse beneath the tree. Untying the thin leather cord from about her neck that held a small, pierced shard of obsidian, her quick fingers tied it securely into the horse’s thick mane. Stepping back just as quickly, she pressed herself once again against the rough bark . . . watching as he mounted . . . watching as he rode boldly from the camp . . . watching as his figure grew small in the far darkness and was swallowed up by the night . . . [ June 22, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ] __________________ Eldest, that’s what I am . . . I knew the dark under the stars when it was fearless - before the Dark Lord came from Outside.