[imgleft]http://matope.pixel-blueberry.com/image ... uncert.png[/imgleft] He supposed he was lucky.

He had a loving family, a large tribe and lots of friends. He never had to worry about food or water or the coldest of winter nights. By every right he should have been content.

And he had been, for the first half of his life at least.

But with the return of another spring, Marked was finding himself restless, unsatisfied. Food tasted bland, conversations were just repeats from days before and he longed for something more.

Being blind to everything but the faintest of glows wasn’t ideal for travel but Marked knew the trails around the tribe well enough to get away without someone asking if he needed help or where he was going.

Then he was free.

Free to wander, free to... immediately get his hoof stuck in a tangle of vines. He sighed, tugged uselessly for a while and then dipped his head to the task of gnawing through the offending plant.

[imgright]https://citycyb.org/maxx/cybad/mt21xmbl ... kirret.png[/imgright]In the distance came a skittering, that turned into incomprehensible chatter as it ventured closer. When it arrived, one could hear:

" - just a nibble of you," the voice sharp and quick, "look at your little nubbins! Ah, but they'll grow back, won't they?"

There was a pause and a little shuffle.

"I'll have to come back to you later," Bloodroot dismissed the skirret, tossing it off her back onto the ground, "or this buck will eat all the eligible vines in the vicinity."

"Is it any good?"

She asked, craning her head to look at the vines wrapped around his leg.

He heard her well before she reached him, his ears perked, pausing in his gnawing in order to assess her (their?) approach. The doe seemed to be talking to someone else but there was only one set of hoofsteps. A pet perhaps?

Marked had only ever experienced a tribe of very helpful and (mostly) considerate kin, who would jump at the chance to help, so he presumed this one would be the same.

“It’s,” he began and then paused, running a tongue around his mouth to assess the flavour, “rather bitter.” Then he made a show of trying to pull his leg away from the offending vine. 

He didn’t want to ask for help, especially on his day of wandering free (not the best of starts to a self-sufficient life) but he didn’t really have a choice.

“I’m stuck,” he said ruefully, giving a little shrug of despair.

@Maxx

“Oh that’s no good,” she stated, her voice leaning like she was, head stretched back critically, “I was getting hungry but I’m not sure I’m quite in the mood for bitter.”

“You should have stumbled into something more palatable, the wildlife would eat you right out.”

Still, she leaned down to have a taste, because she was hungry and had found food on foot. Delicately pulling her goat lip back, she bared her well-honed Acha teeth and started to strip the vine with great ferocity and velocity as bits of soft bark went flying. She slowed as she got to the innards, and nibbled out a morsel.

“Could be worse on the inside,” she decided, “you give it a try.”

@Ruriska

He really didn’t think his being saved from a predicament should be dependent on how tasty the thing he’d gotten stuck in was but he held his tongue, lest his lone potential savior decided to wander off in search of a tastier meal. 

“I’ll try that next time,” he said, his tone just as bitter as the vine.

At least she seemed inclined to help him break free, as he felt her breath on his leg as she leaned down to assist with, what turned out to be, startling ferocity. Alarmed, he went as still as possible, hoping and praying that she didn’t decide to take a bite out of him as well.

That would be just what he needed, to be lame as well as blind.

“Why?” He questioned when she stopped, tugging again in the hopes that he could just pull free. It didn’t work. How thick was this vine? “Can’t you just... bite through the rest? You don’t need to eat it.”

@Maxx

She looked up at his eye sockets, and back down at the vine encircling his delicate ankle.

"The very Motherfather provided you with this sustenance," she said pertly, taking another critical bite, "it's literally right at your feet hoof, you might as well eat it."

"I mean," she said through mouthfuls, "I got that last winter and it's a bit mushy right now but it's perfectly good to eat if you replant it and let it grow a little again."

The skirret laid there, given that when she'd encountered it at the tree party it was already a little rotten, and actually it was not the Motherfather who gave it to her, but Lost Apathy.

"Waste not, want not.

"You sure you don't want some of your vine then."

@Ruriska

“Perhaps I would be more grateful to the MotherFather for providing me sustenance if I was even hungry,” Marked retorted. “I would much rather share the bounty instead.”

Was this why everyone was so happy at the tribe? Because they were surrounded by other kin who wanted to help without being difficult about it?

“I have no idea what that is but yes, I do not want any of my vine. It’s actually very inconvenient and you would be doing me a favour by eating it.”

@Maxx

"The Motherfather works in mysterious ways," Bloodroot said, not in a manner that reflected any faith in the Motherfather besides Her factual existence, "but eh, suit yourself, don't blame Her if you get hungry later."

She continued with little munches that sounded quite clearly like she was taking her time chewing out the fibre. Waste not, want not.

"Seems dangerous for a buck like you to wander about without something looking out* for you, but I guess zikwa do it all the time."

(*ba dum psh @Ruriska )

“When I get hungry later, I will make sure to only blame myself.” The swamp was so full of food, he couldn’t imagine getting hungry enough to resort to bitter vines.

Marked’s mouth pressed into a thin line of annoyance.

“Mmm,” he answered noncommittally because he hated to admit that maybe he had been wrong and everyone had been right. Perhaps he did need someone looking out for him.

But - “Right!” He exclaimed with much more enthusiasm. “Zikwa do it all the time! They wander all over the place. It’s surely not that hard.” Did they stumble into vines all the time? Into holes? Into deadly animals?

His other senses were pretty good.

He just hadn’t been paying attention and his inner Zikwa hadn’t emerged yet.

This would be his first and last mishap.

“Could you... could you eat a little faster?”

( hehe @Maxx )

"Well," she continued ruminating in various ways, "I heard they came up from the caves and wander all over the place, I'm sure some of them are dying all over the place too but those aren't the ones you're going to hear about or from, that's for sure."

Then she paused to let out a peal of laughter. One might (rather) have presumed that she thought she made a good joke.

"I guess you're doing fine. You're alive for now."

She chewed strategically deeper until there was a sliver of vine left.

"You can pull," she suggested breezily, "show more disrespect to the Motherfather."

@Ruriska

Her words, along with her laughter, settled on Marked like a physical weight. His head dipped and his shoulder slumped.

Alive for now. How inspiring.

Give him a few days on his own and he could end up in one of the graves Exalted cared for. With only a rock and some flowers to mark his time in the swamp.

At her suggestion, and with a heavy sigh, he pulled.

It was rather half-hearted but with how much she’d bitten out of the vine, that last sliver snapped with little effort. He immediately sidestepped away, to be well free of the offending plant.

“Thank you,” he said. “For helping me disrespect the MotherFather.” And for breaking his spirit. “I, uh, guess I’ll go home now.”

@Maxx

"You're welcome," Bloodroot said with cheer as he was freed, "the Motherfather needs disobedient children from time to time."

"Home already?" She was then surprised.

"You've yet to meet it yet, hang on," and there was a scurry as she held up the rank skirret right in front of his nose, so he could smell it.

"Tastes a little better than the vine, softer too," almost like it was a selling point, except she was not selling it and the leg she dangled in front of him was also half nibbled.

@Ruriska

“Meet who?” Marked had time to say before something was shoved into his face. He unfortunately took a deep breath of surprise, which swept the overpowering scent of rot right into his nostrils.

He recoiled, gagging.

“W-what is that?” He gasped. “Is that a dead animal? It smells terrible!”

@Maxx

In a surprising moment of coherence, Bloodroot said straightforwardly, "it's a root vegetable I got in winter.

"If you replant it, it grows back a little, I've been having a bit of leg every other day.

"The Motherfather," well really it was Lost Apathy, "giveth, I taketh.

"These are the little miracles of the Swamp you've never seen witnessed."

@Ruriska

That sounded (and smelt) vile.

Who would want a half rotten root that kept growing with what he could only presume was mould or something?

“I don’t think I want to witness it,” he replied, thinking fondly back to a time just that morning when he had been surrounded by his tribe and an abundance of food.

“You know you don’t have to live like this, right?” He beseeched. “There are places with fresh food every day. You could come with me and leave that thing behind for... for... somebody else less fortunate.”

@Maxx