On The Run

Book 1

 ━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

P.O.V 

𝓢𝓪𝔂𝓸𝓻𝓪

ʟᴏᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ: 𝕿𝖘𝖚𝖓𝖎𝖗𝖆

 ━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Rolling across the mountains would appear to be a thick fog spreading across the horizon, as if it were a gentle hand running across the dewy dells. It was still just barely crossing over from night to early morn, the moon anchored by its stars to settle to the nether half of the world as the day returned to its dynasty. The skin of sunlight would embrace indigo skies and a libelluloid of fireflies scatter from their shelter of reeds and take their hovers along the slender river bed where the frogs have already taken the morning to sleep.

A flash of white appears just above the stalks of bamboo as three black-tailed cranes take the earth underneath silhouette legs, claws digging to secure the area as they resumed their hunt for fish. Their bodies appeared so vivid as they walked slowly across the river, feathers bleeding white and black into the scene with necks arching in until they snapped at the waters for fresh salted snack. One out of the three appeared successful, his red crown raising up to the sky as he flung the little gullet of fish into his mouth before his brother had snatched it from hitting his throat. This was followed by fluffed feathers, one out of the two initiating a fight as their pointed beaks would disturb the waters with their patient brother still searching for fresh prey. At the sound of their squabbling, the fish had already began to flee from their warm spot with the decision to pick up grub closer to the quieter bends.

Beside the vein of water was a handful of goats drinking from the reservoir, their shepherd watching from the tree atop a nearby hill with crook in hand for any mountain beats in the form of wolves or man. A stalk of sweet grain was fitted between his dry lips, the sound of grinding against the leaflettes audible while he sucked and chewed the nectar from its filter. This was his breakfast before noon could settle and by the time he had returned with the goats quartered back in their fence, his wife would have already prepared him a platter of juicy rich meats complimented by grilled vegetables and a bed of warm rice to be washed down by his tea. Afterwards... he'd take the time to venture into the woods behind their bungalow to cut down a tree for the workshop table. The family still had several months before they were to expect a newborn into the family, but he wanted to get the stability of the bassinet right if he could manage the time. With these changing seasons, the best time to begin the work was surely now...

The wind begins to sway the trees, news coming from the West as their leaves collectively rustle against themselves in unison of the foreign lands. From the crane of his neck, the goat herder can feel the air just barely touch his skin before he could manage a glance in the opposite direction from where the river flowed downward. Nothing appeared beyond the reeds but before he could relax his neck back down to the tree, the goats had raised their heads up from the water to bleat at something lurking across from them. The man straightens his back now, hand on the tree to support him as he began to rise from his sitting spot. Slowly, he begins his trek down the hill as his goats stepped away from the river bend with hooves kicking from surprise. There was confusion amongst them as the bamboo stalks would reveal a low-drifting wasen boat approaching the river bed. Within the boat stood a woman with a tall stem-like oar drifting across the clear water in smooth paddling. From where he was, he could determine no face behind the cowl that was tucked over her head, the cloak more than apparent for him that she identified as a foreigner from these lands. As the goat herder reaches the edge of the bend, the boat manages to gauge the distance and settle closely along the steps between earth and water, her stick rooted without the intent to move.