For "Places that have their own living beingness, maybe sentient or maybe not, or maybe too alien to tell." Some worldbuilding for a novel project I'm working on.
Besed crouched, put her hand to the dirt, looked across the slope, and sighed.
Behind her, the company's captain signaled a halt. "M'lady?"
"Correct me if not," she said, "but this is a good place to rest." She looked at the place as a hunter would, not a soldier, but stopping to at a place to gather strength was likely the same for both of them. This place had wild berries and ground nuts, scampering creatures which could be caught by snare or sling, enough living greenery for shelter and enough deadfall for fires. It was as close to a paradise as this part of the territories offered.
"I doubt we'd find anyplace better," the captain agreed.
Besed nodded. "Aye. And yet I feel we shouldn't stop here."
The captain didn't say anything, but Besed could feel his skepticism. Still, she was well-regarded in Her Majesty's court, and not known for flights of fancy; he said nothing to question her.
"Can you feel it?" she asked.
The captain considered. "I can feel the wind coming in from the northwest," he said. "The air is dry; I doubt it will rain. The morale of my men is high. That is what I feel."
"Look at the other slopes," Besed instructed. "Barren stripes and patches of debris at the feet of the hill. This land is prone to landslides, but the plants grow thick on this hill. That's because of this–" she indicated one of the low-cralwing bushes beside her. "Thorny sedge. Its roots grow deep and tangle up the earth to keep it from shifting; but no human would plant this. There are deep-rooted plants that would serve us better. Yield up fruit or flowers. And these brown lizards: they hunt in barren lands, like those landslides, where they can see the insects easily and not be seen, themselves. Why has all this life clustered to this one slope, ignoring the others? It's as though something has called it to gather here."
"Perhaps it's those other slopes we ought to be wary of," the captain suggested.
Besed shook her head. "No," she said. "I feel something here. As though we're being observed – as a bird would watch us, or a predator who felt no threat from us. I don't feel uneasy with our presence here. But I would be wary of trespassing."
Many of the men dispatched with her from the capitol had military upbringings, but they weren't of noble birth; they wouldn't have ridden out on the grand, formal hunts, and they wouldn't have had to hunt for their own suppers. They didn't know how to read the world around them for anything but tactics and land maneuvers, good bivouac sites and subsistence forage. They carried rations which they supplemented with whatever natural bounty was ready, this time of year.
Besed, though, had grown up with her hands in the soil, her nose in the breeze, her skin painted with mud or poultice to disguise her scent. She knew when the wind would turn before it turned. She could feel which places were inviting to animals; which seemed, by unspoken consensus, to be avoided.
And this place... was something more.
Her Majesty trusted Besed's instincts, and that was why she'd trusted her to hunt their quarry through the trackless wilds. Besed, too, trusted her instincts. More than she trusted any formal training, or wisdom to be read from an almanac or recited from the fairy folk wisdom that prevailed in the cities.
"This place," she said. "It has a sense of sense about it. I believe an intelligence shaped this slope – but not from without. From within."
To specifications a human would not consider. Drawing life here, nurturing it – as much as life could be nurtured. She watched a lizard turn its head, attention rapt on an insect ascending a blade of grass. The things that felt right here – the things that felt invited here – would kill and eat each other; the birds would eat the lizard, the lizard would eat the insect, the insect would eat the fragile shoots of plants that struggled up from the earth.
Besed, who had not been invited, felt it would be unwise to do so.
"Tell your men to enjoy the view," she said, "but not to take anything from this place. We'll make camp further on."
The captain nodded, and trusted to her instincts to lead them safely on.
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Date: 2014-06-15 10:54 pm (UTC)Besed crouched, put her hand to the dirt, looked across the slope, and sighed.
Behind her, the company's captain signaled a halt. "M'lady?"
"Correct me if not," she said, "but this is a good place to rest." She looked at the place as a hunter would, not a soldier, but stopping to at a place to gather strength was likely the same for both of them. This place had wild berries and ground nuts, scampering creatures which could be caught by snare or sling, enough living greenery for shelter and enough deadfall for fires. It was as close to a paradise as this part of the territories offered.
"I doubt we'd find anyplace better," the captain agreed.
Besed nodded. "Aye. And yet I feel we shouldn't stop here."
The captain didn't say anything, but Besed could feel his skepticism. Still, she was well-regarded in Her Majesty's court, and not known for flights of fancy; he said nothing to question her.
"Can you feel it?" she asked.
The captain considered. "I can feel the wind coming in from the northwest," he said. "The air is dry; I doubt it will rain. The morale of my men is high. That is what I feel."
"Look at the other slopes," Besed instructed. "Barren stripes and patches of debris at the feet of the hill. This land is prone to landslides, but the plants grow thick on this hill. That's because of this–" she indicated one of the low-cralwing bushes beside her. "Thorny sedge. Its roots grow deep and tangle up the earth to keep it from shifting; but no human would plant this. There are deep-rooted plants that would serve us better. Yield up fruit or flowers. And these brown lizards: they hunt in barren lands, like those landslides, where they can see the insects easily and not be seen, themselves. Why has all this life clustered to this one slope, ignoring the others? It's as though something has called it to gather here."
"Perhaps it's those other slopes we ought to be wary of," the captain suggested.
Besed shook her head. "No," she said. "I feel something here. As though we're being observed – as a bird would watch us, or a predator who felt no threat from us. I don't feel uneasy with our presence here. But I would be wary of trespassing."
Many of the men dispatched with her from the capitol had military upbringings, but they weren't of noble birth; they wouldn't have ridden out on the grand, formal hunts, and they wouldn't have had to hunt for their own suppers. They didn't know how to read the world around them for anything but tactics and land maneuvers, good bivouac sites and subsistence forage. They carried rations which they supplemented with whatever natural bounty was ready, this time of year.
Besed, though, had grown up with her hands in the soil, her nose in the breeze, her skin painted with mud or poultice to disguise her scent. She knew when the wind would turn before it turned. She could feel which places were inviting to animals; which seemed, by unspoken consensus, to be avoided.
And this place... was something more.
Her Majesty trusted Besed's instincts, and that was why she'd trusted her to hunt their quarry through the trackless wilds. Besed, too, trusted her instincts. More than she trusted any formal training, or wisdom to be read from an almanac or recited from the fairy folk wisdom that prevailed in the cities.
"This place," she said. "It has a sense of sense about it. I believe an intelligence shaped this slope – but not from without. From within."
To specifications a human would not consider. Drawing life here, nurturing it – as much as life could be nurtured. She watched a lizard turn its head, attention rapt on an insect ascending a blade of grass. The things that felt right here – the things that felt invited here – would kill and eat each other; the birds would eat the lizard, the lizard would eat the insect, the insect would eat the fragile shoots of plants that struggled up from the earth.
Besed, who had not been invited, felt it would be unwise to do so.
"Tell your men to enjoy the view," she said, "but not to take anything from this place. We'll make camp further on."
The captain nodded, and trusted to her instincts to lead them safely on.