Vixenscratch

Short stories and serials by Alexandra Herakai

Posts Tagged ‘Eyra’

Bound to the Cage Bird: Strangers in a Strange Town

 The pair of furriers walked along the road, tails swaying lightly, ears perked. Their hunt had gone well; three rolls were strapped to the back of the smaller feline man, two magpie-black pelts and one furless, irisdescent hide. His much larger partner, a near-black wolverine, carried a heavy war hammer almost as long as the shorter one was tall, as well as a generous supply of dried meat, bones, claws and fangs, all excellent trade goods.

Neither of them was very very familiar with the area, but they’d seen the smoke from the settlement’s fireplaces and headed for it. If there was nobody there wealthy enough to purchase their hides at least they could lighten the load of the other excess. If there was such a man there, on the other hand, they’d have made a pretty profit from their latest tour.

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Partnership

 The hunter lay back on his furs, eyes shut and breath slow, feeling the almost giddy weariness in his limbs that came from the hard day’s work. He enjoyed the sensation; if he was tired, it meant he was alive, and there were not enough hours in the day to truly exhaust him. Once he’d finished taking care of the meat from their kills, and dealt with the rest of the camp duties, his partner had sent him to get himself cleaned up and lie down, saying he’d be along shortly.

That had been a while ago; he had to admit he was getting worried. With the extra work the jaguarundi had had cut out for him, was it possible the tanner-mage had fallen asleep while washing up in the nearby stream?

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To Catch a Thief

 Eyra woke with a start, sitting upright and looking around him before he’d quite managed to identify what had disturbed his sleep. His ears twitched, panned around, looking for some kind of sound, while he looked around his small camp. Under normal circumstances he’d have made camp up off the ground in a small tree or similar, but he’d been exhausted when he was finally ready to sleep the previous night.

The meat from his kill was still there. The pile of dirt near the fire, where he’d buried what was going to be his breakfast, was still there. His small pack of supplies was still there, and didn’t look as though anything had touched it. Everything seemed to be in order, then, except…

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