Spontanéité

Piper 🔹 snapshot

It's only dawn, the sky flooded with pale streaks of gold growing more intense in colour with each passing breath or heartbeat. Between the gold, there are lines of pink, purple, deep red, amber, and as the backdrop, a pale sea. The moon still hangs from the faded night, a creamy little cat's claw dangling by an invisible spider's thread. And look, there, a cluster of silhouettes against the light, gliding through the Airs. Not birds. Children of the Airs.

They soar above their mountain range, below which can be seen a slow procession of people, a small scattered cluster of people accustomed to waking with the sun. Families are bundling their belongings and folding their tent-cloths, taking the frames apart to use as staffs or to tie up as bundles and place on the few carts the Realm possesses. Some of the flocks and herds still sleep, the horses as well, and the People don't wake them. The keep-dogs are awake, though, obediently leaving the cat-chasing for later as they keep watch over the sleeping flocks. One or two are in use elsewhere, hugged to children's chests or barking, ears flapping as they run from children with sticks in their hands before their parents realise and stop them, taking the sticks from them. Fires are being put out, torches uprooted and held by Guards already finished packing as they stand and wait, torch and spear in each hand, or bundled and placed on the ground so they can move between the collapsing tents, helping their People.

One or two Pack members are here, too, helping out where they can. Mostly, they stand to the side or keep an eye on the children. There isn't much they can do here, and they know that now, but they attempt to be of some help regardless. As the camp shrinks to a point where no tents are still standing and some of the horses are being wakened and hooked up to carts, the shepherds and shepherdesses begin to gather up and waken their flocks and herds. The Pack members step back, step aside, and at the front of the procession, the horses and their carts start moving, leading the way with a handful of Guards guiding them.

"Where will you go?" one of the Pack members asks. It takes a brief moment before I realise he's asking me.

"The Keeper knows," I shrug. He looks surprised, somewhat concerned. "We'll be fine," I say. The Pack members have been protective of our People in the time we've been here, seeing us as an extension of their own People, in a sense, but we will be fine. "We wander wherever the flocks take us, wherever the Airs flow, wherever the Waters run." I offer him a reassuring smile. "It is our way."

He doesn't look reassured, but someone else calls me before either of us can say anything else. "They've started." He grins as he approaches, tossing me a hollow wooden reed with holes cut out of it in a line. In my periphery, I see the Pack member bow to me before turning away to assist someone with their bundled belongings. I finger the instrument, turning it over in my hands.

"So whose decision was it to make me Piper?" I ask wryly, looking up at him.

He takes my spear from me, eyeing the engravings pensively for a moment before meeting my eye. "If I said it was one of the children, you probably wouldn't believe me, so I won't bother."

I roll my eyes, bringing the reed to my lips and blowing, the pipe releasing a shrill note. "His request?" I ask, not waiting for a response as I play a few different notes, getting used to the instrument again. It is tradition, and has been tradition since before I can remember, for the Children of Wanderers to lead the rest of the camp with their instruments- generally pipes, lutes, flat drums- and with song. The Piper leads the way, and it has been season-cycles since the Piper and the General were the same person. I have been Piper twice before, once when I was a child, and once soon after taking the position of General.

"Does that question need an answer?" he raises an eyebrow. He hesitates. "I'll take this to him," he says, shifting his grip on my spear, and when I don't object, he heads off to where I can see my helpmate watching us from where he was helping the scribes secure their chests on one of the carts. I finger the reed, suppressing a sigh before heading towards where most of the children have gathered for the ritual games.