Without the Beauty of Us

Chapter 2: Swears and Snorts

Kel Karric pulled his worn brown cloak tighter around himself with one hand as a biting wind flew across the mountain road, rustling the trees and whispering into the crisp morning. Letting out a shiver, he nudged his horse, Tehla, on. The horse snorted in reply and walked at a slightly faster pace, pulling the creaking caravan with him.

Though cold, Kel could not deny the beauty of the path that he was taking. The dirt road was right on the cliff's edge and could likely not even fit two wagons side by side. The pines on the other side of the road — when there wasn't a wall of rock there instead — were a beautiful deep green, home to many families and varieties of birds which tweeted away the days, along with the occasional bird of prey circling in the sky, letting out their hunting screeches. But what was on the mountain was hardly the best part.

Gazing off the edge, Kel could only see a great expanse of forest and mountains, the woods offset by a river or clearing here and there. However despite the nature of his view, it was safe to say that since he could not even see Olania from up there he was definitely lost.

The road thinned and was once again right against a rock face. Tehla snorted and slowed down. Kel leaned forward and patted the horse's hind thigh, reassuring him. He resumed his usual speed after another snort, he was a good horse and he trusted Kel and his mother, always serving them faithfully.

He was as dark as twilight and his name meant "Trample" translated from Daedwreni. A bit of a joke concerning his wild nature when he was being trained. He was not a fast horse however, rather a hardy and strong one born to lug caravans. His breed a luxury among nationless.

Holding the reins and his cloak in one hand, Kel awkwardly reached into his pocket for the rather low quality map he had acquired at he and his mother's last stop, it got stuck on the way out and as he pulled too hard his elbow flew into the back of the wooden seat. Kel swore as his arm went numb and pain shot through it, Tehla snorted, echoing the frustration in his own way.

After seething over his elbow for a few long moments, Kel opened the map on his lap, grumbling when the wind kept folding it onto itself and threatening to rip the tattered thing from his hands.

Kel wrapped the reins around his foot (the best creative solution he could come up with) before turning so the wind was at his back and grabbing the map firmly with both hands.

He had bought it in some village that wasn't even big enough to have a name, though at this point he was reprimanding himself for his lack of sense. It only showed one path from said village to Olania and he had stopped taking that one half a day ago — thanks to a fallen tree which he suspected was done on purpose.

One of the caravan's wheels ran over a small boulder, rocking the whole thing and making Tehla snort and stamp. Kel swore again as he steadied himself on the caravan's side. almost having fallen off of the edge of the seat.

He awkwardly and uncomfortably reined in Tehla when there were once again trees and grass to their side, still, he let out a breathy laugh at his ability to stop a horse and house-caravan with his foot.

Pocketing the map and hopping down to inspect the wheel, Kel heard a yawn and a phlegmy cough from the caravan. His mother's head soon came poking through the linen separating the inside of the caravan from the driver's seat, once again yawning.

"Morning, Mother," Kel said, not taking his eyes off of the wheel.

"I heard you swear again." Her prominent northern nomadian accent was soft and comforting with her voice. Kel had the same accent but it was so light thanks to all of their travelling that only those with a good ear would be able to tell his origins.