On the Riverbank (Open)

[Silas Hawkeye]

Dawn's light broke through the clouds that spotted the sky, creating rays of misty morning sun to break the shadows lingering between the trees of Mossflower wood. The trees themselves, while largely bare, already began to show signs of life. Much of the undergrowth, too had recovered from a winter slumber, and had sprung up in small patches on the forest floor, carpeted thickly with last fall's leaves. A thrush chirped off in the distance, joyously announcing the arrival of the first day of spring.

The birdsong drifted through the silent forest on the still air, reaching the sleepy ears of a beast near the River Moss. The creature had managed to wedge itself in the crook of an oak branch above the ground, with only the end of a long fluffy tail draped down like a small banner out from under a heavy blanket, identifying the creature as a squirrel. After a few moments, the blanket moved to reveal blinking brown eyes and a decidedly masculine complexion, though still youthful all the same. He reached up to straighten out a tuft of russet fur on his head with a paw before fully waking, standing on the wide branch with the blanket rolled up and put on his shoulder.

Gazing off through the trees towards the rising sun, the squirrel could see the River Moss winding by just a few dozen paces in front of him. Despite the chill in the air, he smiled as he stretched his lean, tall frame under a simple tunic and trousers.

"Nice thing to wake up to..." He observed, talking to himself in a murmur as he looked onward at the scene before him.

Having awoken fully, the squirrel descended down the tree to where he had hidden his pack full of provisions, setting about making a small fire next to the river as the morning progressed and the waters flowed serenely towards the west. A hole was easily dug into the soft bank sand, and the squirrel found plenty of tinder and smaller bits of wood around the area to start with. Most of the wood he had gathered however, was damp to the paw, but once the dew had been dried from the outer bark, the flame took to the kindling, gradually building as he added more fuel. Soon, the squirrel sat comfortably by the fire, munching thoughtfully on a bit of bread, content with the peace of the woodlands.

He had intended to move south originally, but the squirrel quickly discovered that the river blocked his progress with a wide expanse of water. Following along its northern bank for several days, the squirrel intended to find a proper fording point where he might be able to explore beyond the bounds of his usual travels. Even so, he didn't mind taking the morning to rest up and watch the river flow on by.

[Bracken]

"Bracken, Bracken, Bracken, Brackeeeeennn . . ." a ten-year-old vole draped himself over the wide shoulders of his older brother, spindly limbs clinging to the stronger back and flanks as the two creatures sat upon the riverbank. Two sets of wide dark eyes were fixed upon a small block of wood, which was slowly taking shape into . . . something. The wider and younger pair of eyes couldn't know for sure what the shape was. "Hey, Bracken, Bracken, Bracken!" Finally, the repetitive call was enough to warrant a response from the owner of the name Bracken.

"What izzit, Crux?" Brackenfur Streammouse asked absently, paws working tirelessly with his trusty knife upon the wood. Cruxpaw Streammouse instantly brightened and hugged his big brother tighter.

"Whatcha maaaaakin'?" came the inevitable question. Bracken felt his upper half tipping as Cruz leaned in for a closer look.

"Ahh!" was the only noise he could make at the moment. When he regained balance, he was able to answer with a simple, "A bird. M' makin' a bird." That only made Crux more interested.

"Whu kiiiinda bird? A hummin'bird?" the ten-year-old's next question was met with a sigh.

"No, it ain't a hummin'bird," Bracken informed him. "'S a blue jay. Jays're pritty, huh?" Crux was a little disappointed that the wooden carving was not going to be his favorite type of avian, but he brightened a little at the mention of a blue jay.

"Yeah!" came the enthusiastic cry, which nearly caused Bracken to fall over for real this time. (Thankfully, the bigger creature had fast enough reflexes to catch himself before such a tragedy occurred.) "Blue jays're real pritty! When's it gonna be done?"

"Maybe t'morrow," Bracken answered. He stood up, and Crux slid off his back. "Come on. We need'a find food." Crux hopped up and began prancing around his brother while Bracken walked calmly along the bank. Staff in paw, the elder brother kept an ever-watchful eye out for danger, but the younger paid little heed to his surroundings. Unless, of course, a brave little grasshopper decided to test the warmer air, in which case Crux immediately set to chasing it.

"Crux!" Bracken tried to keep up with the little one. They ran for some distance along the bank, and finally the grasshopper disappeared into a dead stump. Crux gave a disappointed noise, and Bracken tried to catch his second wind. "Wouldja quit that?" Bracken panted.

"Almost had 'em!" Crux announced proudly. Bracken huffed once, rolling his eyes. Great, now where were they? Still on the river, but where on the river? Oh, well, at least they had water. And there might be some early watercress or something to gather along the banks. Right now, however, Bracken needed a rest.

He sat down against a tree, still holding tightly to his staff. Crux plopped down by him, hoping the older vole would continue carving. But no such luck. Bracken was on high alert in this unfamiliar part of the woods. He thought he heard a noise once or twice, like a voice or a rustle, but he couldn't be sure.

Then he saw the smoke of a fire. Leaping to his feet, the young vole pushed his little brother behind him. "Stay quiet, Crux," Bracken whispered. Crux did as he was bade, sensing the possible danger. As stealthily as he could manage (which was quite stealthy), Bracken made his way over to the trees by the bank, staff held out before him. Peeking through the foliage, he saw a squirrel sitting near a campfire enjoying a snack. Okay, so there was no immediate danger. Bracken calmed down a little. Only to have his nerves shot the very next second.

"Hey! It's a squirrel!" Crux had followed his brother to the tree line and had seen the other beast. Bracken nearly jumped out of his fur with Crux's exclamation, and his heart rate refused to go down. In fact, it rose as Crux stepped out of the cover of the trees and ambled up to the squirrel. "Hey, who's yew?"

D*mmit, Crux, Bracken thought. He leapt into the open, catching his little brother by the arm and pulling him back. "Uh, 'scuse us," the elder brother mumbled. "Don't mean t' bother ya . . ." He shot Crux a pointed look, but was met with a ten-year-old's scowl. Bracken ignored him for the moment and glanced back up at the squirrel, offering a weak, nervous smile.

[Silas Hawkeye]

Previously occupied by supplying more fuel to the small fire, the squirrel glanced swiftly across the flames towards the voices in his direction. Ears standing alert atop his head, he instantly relaxed as the two creatures presented themselves, and offered them a welcoming smile of his own in return. Setting a fresh pile of more or less dry branches into the fire, the squirrel spoke in a friendly tone, his voice colored by his age as an adolescent nearing adulthood and providing some indication of an innocent traveler.

"Oh, not at all." He replied, brown eyes examining the two voles curiously, "I could stand some bothering either way. Not many beasts out here, y'know." He added lightly in a joking manner, gesturing with his paw and allowing them to step closer to his small encampment. The squirrel himself sat cross-legged in front of the fire, with his back to the east, the calmly flowing River Moss passing by on his left. A stout oak tree provided shade from what sun there was at that time of the morning, leaning slightly towards the water. The squirrel's bow and quiver of arrows were in clear evidence propped up next to his pack, however he appeared content to leave them where they were. He glanced down at the younger of the two voles, smile replaced by an equally friendly expression. "My name's Silas." He offered in a more sincere manner, being quite open to the newcomers.