IoK Saline – Session 4

“So you’re telling me that they fought off a band of eight Golyn, but then nearly got eaten by a pack of half-starved wolves?”

Lugging the laden sack over his head, Skinner loaded it to the mules pack saddle.  It was evening and he was near finished checking his traps.  With spring in full effect, it was a busy day.  This side of the mountain was lush with rabbit and the occasional ermine.  Whether it was the ‘love’ in the air or the lack of settlements, these rodents were easy pickings.  They stumbled into shabby traps which would have never fooled a Forgen hare.  Skinner couldn’t wait to apply his handiwork to the catch.  His current coat was getting a touch shabby.

“Well maybe they were tired… nearly every night they’ve been running into critters up there.  I’m sure now that they’re settled in, they’ll get their second wind.”

Ever the optimist, Bazdin busily recovered the broken lines and spring snares.  Couldn’t let anything go to waste, and definitely couldn’t let some poor critter get bound without an end to their capture.  That would be cruel, and Bazdin wouldn’t have it.  He was lucky enough to talk Skinner into releasing the pregnant females, he wouldn’t then have them simply get caught back up in the same line.

“Bah… They’re amateurs.  I would have spotted those wolves.  It’s the city boys fault.  Why did they let that merchant guard cover the rear?  See… they let the hobok and flatlander go off tracking golyn.  They shouldn’t have done that.  Those two are the best scouts!  You send them AFTER you tuck the dandy book worms into bed.”

Another thump as a sack of rabbits was loaded to the mule.  Three in total… Skinner was quite proud of his handiwork and it showed in his attitude.

“They had Gar, and that ‘city boy’ is a merchant guard.  They don’t pay them to scout, they pay merchant guards to guard… so he was just fine covering the rear.  Wolves just got lucky.  Could happen to anyone.”

The lines and snares were rolled up and bound to the mule.

“Well at the very least, they should have questioned the captured golyn more.  Seems they pamper their captives, just look at how they fed and healed the ogre.  Let me have a crack at the golyn… that mouth would have never stopped leaking secrets, or teeth…”

The conversation was cut short as Skinner yelped and recoiled from the mule’s pack.  While placing the last roll of snare line, Bazdin had somehow managed to trigger one of the springs from Skinner’s traps.  Not fully set, the spring snapped a steel line through the air.  Like the crack of a whip, the line struck Skinner across the forearm, drawing a thin line of blood.

“Oh!  I’m so sorry…”  Bazdin stood gap jawed; staring silently at Skinner, who had by now turned a deep shade of red.

“Well don’t be.”  Skinner looked at the younger dwarf and rolled up his sleeve.  The skin beneath was a map of scars and cuts; a history of his life as a trapper.  He let the blood run down his forearm, watching the younger dwarf's color sink away like the crimson now dripping from his finger.

“Accidents happen boy.  Sometimes we need to remember that things can just go bad.  When they do, they go bad fast and you won’t be able to stand there gap jawed apologizing.  You wipe the blood away and you move on.” 

With that, Skinner grabbed the reigns to the mule and started walking back to camp.  Bazdin, still dumbstruck, replayed the scene in his head and thought of what he could have done differently.  It was just a cut, and Skinner didn’t seem too bothered, but Bazdin knew he should have been more careful.  Or maybe the spring would have let loose regardless of his actions. 

He picked up the last snare, carefully, and followed.