Event: Ill Tides
« on: September 12, 2019, 04:14:51 AM »

It was not a proper shift in tides. Hands at his hips, Saint watched the water rush along the bank of the river. Eddies swirling like miniature storms around rocks and detritus. A leaf shaped oddly like a boat was tossed down the rapids and quickly sunk. If he had been Walking, Saint might have thought it an omen, but there was warm sun on his back.

At least where his apprentice's shadow did not obscure it.

"It is too dry for spring." The ground was still saturated, but the flooding had eased. Soon the men would come back out into the world, though some would not return from the bowers of the women for a year or more. Saint pitied those who would be left behind to the machinations of the cities. And the city's women. Between his toes, water beaded upward. Drawn from the soil by his weight.

It was still too dry.

"Look." He pointed. Nail dark with dirt. A jagged chip turning it lopsided. They needed trimming. All of him needed trimming. Ears high and tail still, Saint marked the water line of the river. "It's two feet too shallow for spring, at least." The sound of beads punctuated his comment. Hand retreating to stroke the tokens around his throat. To touch the Jewel at their center. He did not need to Walk to see that something was wrong.

Though Walking might have helped him see what.

"This is no run to the sea, but a dragging. The current is all wrong. What do you think?" Shoulder dropping, Saint half turned into it to look at his apprentice. He could not Walk, and Saint had his doubts about his ability to think as well. And doubted even more so that Solomon would have what it took in the end to become the Walker. But all paths had lead to him, Mother Night knew why.

Saint certainly didn't, and he asked often.

It was like this at every river and every lake. All tributaries lead to the sea, and the sea too retreated. It was too, too dry.