It was just a short moment of his day, but it was like a sudden splash of cold water, not unpleasantly so. It startled him, refreshed him; it was a contrast between what his life was, and what it had become.
In the quiet of the evening, with a nearly deserted commons, a destrier had leaped toward him from the darkness. Huge, dangerous, claws and beak flashing at him; he didn't notice the other two that had found the beast until his old habits had already taken over: step in, control the great lizard, speak to it in that nonsense language of riders and herdsmen. The destrier had responded just as naturally, settling down and allowing him to capture it with his belt.
The young kitfox fisherman, Kiffin, had a fish for it, which calmed the beast further. Riding was the easiest way to move the destrier, as it was destined to be returned to the fishmonger, according to a young healer girl that he hadn't quite met yet. It was she, Alyria, and Kiffin that had kept the destrier from running off, and so it was that they all went to return the great lizard to its owner.
All of his old instincts and training with the lizards had come into play as if he'd never left home. It was part of him, no matter where he moved or what calling he followed. It had been so easy to feel as if his past life belonged to another person, or perhaps to a story, but it would always be there just behind the illusory and flimsy barrier of time and place; brushing through the veil, touching him, whispering to be taken up as need and instinct required.
It became the subject of prayer and contemplation as he knelt for hours before the statue of Helloise, in the small Docktown chapel. How much had actually changed because of his circumstance, and his vows, and how much had not? Which parts would be of use to him, and which should be refused at all costs? Would he be able to leave such things behind if his path required it? No answer was forthcoming, but he was more aware now, than he had been, of the whispers behind the veil.
In the quiet of the evening, with a nearly deserted commons, a destrier had leaped toward him from the darkness. Huge, dangerous, claws and beak flashing at him; he didn't notice the other two that had found the beast until his old habits had already taken over: step in, control the great lizard, speak to it in that nonsense language of riders and herdsmen. The destrier had responded just as naturally, settling down and allowing him to capture it with his belt.
The young kitfox fisherman, Kiffin, had a fish for it, which calmed the beast further. Riding was the easiest way to move the destrier, as it was destined to be returned to the fishmonger, according to a young healer girl that he hadn't quite met yet. It was she, Alyria, and Kiffin that had kept the destrier from running off, and so it was that they all went to return the great lizard to its owner.
All of his old instincts and training with the lizards had come into play as if he'd never left home. It was part of him, no matter where he moved or what calling he followed. It had been so easy to feel as if his past life belonged to another person, or perhaps to a story, but it would always be there just behind the illusory and flimsy barrier of time and place; brushing through the veil, touching him, whispering to be taken up as need and instinct required.
It became the subject of prayer and contemplation as he knelt for hours before the statue of Helloise, in the small Docktown chapel. How much had actually changed because of his circumstance, and his vows, and how much had not? Which parts would be of use to him, and which should be refused at all costs? Would he be able to leave such things behind if his path required it? No answer was forthcoming, but he was more aware now, than he had been, of the whispers behind the veil.
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