Outside,
Astus's storm billowed its fury into the last hours of the long night,
sending trees and bush, and for pure amusement, hail pelting the
landscape and any mortal soul not blessed enough to find sanctuary from
its warpath
Inside,
however, the bunker and its inhabitant remained warm and dry. The warmth
of the flint fire tucked inside by mud-brick walls made for a
comfortable scout.
Emery made good time on the
pantry and took advantage of her self earned her bath. Most of the
pantry space she dug out, and piles of soil dumped outside.
Her
soiled uniform hung by the pit to dry, while she remained in her
mostly dry underclothes. She had every intention to clean her uniform,
but thought better of it. She assumed to be in this marsh for another
two nights' if Astus was petty enough.If they let her pass, then a night
and a half. As long as she could find shelter before nightfall, and not
get caught in a fog bank, she'd get out fine.
Now
she lay semi dozing by the fire pit, waiting for dawn to check her
traps and forage, wondering if her fellow scouts were fairing well,
coming or going. If her little brother remembered to close the storm
shutters.
Emery dragged her travel pack closer with too much
effort on her part. The buckles and
zippers caked with mud and twigs. Brushing off the straps, she scrounged
around inside.
The
other half of her sandwich caught her attention first, and her stomach
rumbled in response. The waxy paper crinkled against her face as she
took a mouthful. She debated saving it, but the
thought faded away with another bite.
Her
other hand reached inside again to bump against a heavy, wide leather
pouch. Her work pouch. Meant to be attached to her belt, but she kept it
in her bag for long travel. She wiggled it out, carefully opening it in
her lap.
Holding
her sandwich between her teeth, gentle fingers held each vial, checking for cracks. The empty, unused glass vessels,
thankfully as pristine as when she packed them. Her tiny jars of powders, spices and
liquids remained wrapped in soft packing linen, damage free.
Divided between eating and unpacking, a small pile of stuff formed
around her. A small cooking pot stuffed with small bags of dried food,
a pouch of flint, two large water skins. She
didn’t carry many clothes other than spare garments, an extra pair of
pants, patches, and a sewing kit.
The last item was a small gray pulled string pouch holding a variety of little seeds.
Outside, another roll of thunder vibrated through the ship, giving her an idea.
“It’ll
be wet," she murmured as she grabbed some vials.
A
glance out could tell her that the sky was lit with an endless stream
of lightning, and the rain fell as if to drown the worms. Her bunker was
above flood levels, but the surrounding landscape was bare. Alas, she
concluded Astus would not waste a chance to tag her and dashed back out
into the night storm, anyway.
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