Vadar
Seven characteristics are in an uncultivated person, and seven in a learned one
The awkward thud of Vadar’s uneven gait follows him everywhere now. It gives him a sort of distinction as he shambles along down the Mountain trail, a rhythmic broadcast to predators that says, Here I am! Weak and easy pickings, but he keeps on the path anyways, keeps thumping along and bobbing his head until the scenery clears and the Meadow stretches out in front of him.
How could he stop? If Vadar took one moment of rest it would be his death, surely. He would ease off the bad forelimb and possibly crumple from exhaustion, lay in that same spot until the fever reared its ugly head again, and then slip away forever. Death hounded him, very much like the little hollow-eyed creature that followed him now. He glanced back to take a look and - yes - it still trailed behind, walking slowly on two upright legs made of twigs, leaves, and oddly small stones.
“Still with me buddy?” The black stallion spoke hoarsely, both pale corners of his white lips stretching into a dry smile. He could still taste the grit from Island Resort in his teeth. The small creature made from forest things said nothing in reply and gave no indication that it’d been spoken to, so Vadar shrugged and kept on.
It was just the fever producing false images, he assumed. Just a hallucination. Certainly not something of his own creation.
Around him the gentle touch of winter grass felt like white-hot fire, raking brittle tendrils over his pockmarked and hairless legs, but he shuffled forward through the blinding pain. It was probably all that was keeping him awake right now, so he relished the sensation of agony and hung his dark head lower. Evening was coming and afterwards, nightfall. The chilling threat of a cold, starlit walk was made worse by his lameness but to his surprise the creature who’d followed him down from the mountaintop was catching up and taking the lead. With a soft grin he noticed it was changing. Its gnarled, twig-like hands were grasping long blades of brown grass and putting them physically into its body, where they clung to one another and began to take shape.
He realized it was trading things, sort of. Dropping a stone or a leaf here, replacing it with grass or sod there. Kind of cute, in a strange way.
Vadar sighed and focused on the golem, never expecting that someone or something might intervene.
@[Anaxarete]