Kitshaar
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Vol. 2 Ch. 13: Stream
🕑 Added 2025-06-22 09:28:30 +0000 UTCAuthor's Note:
Edited and proofread by SnazzyCub.
Recurring Characters:
Peter: The protagonist of the novel.
Mariah: Peter's Mother.
Recap:
Peter chuckled, stepping forward to take the sheep from her arms into his. “It seems to me you’ve forgotten to groom it,” he said gently, careful not to tug on the wool as he began grooming the creature.
“I’ve never had the opportunity, alright?” Mariah snapped, turning her face away with a pout.
...End of Author's Note...
…
(Sometime later)
A bunch squawking was heard, causing Peter and Mariah to turn their faces to the sky. The parrot was back. It circled the sky twice before lowering itself to sit on Peter’s shoulder.
“Let’s get going,” he said, a pleasant smile on his face as he turned to Mariah.
She nodded. Her head was tilted to the side, her hands busy untangling the wool in her hair. “That’s why I don’t like long hair,” she muttered, a frown on her face. She stood up, slowly walking to the back entrance of the leading carriage.
Peter climbed into the driver’s seat. The horses stood harnessed to the carriage, ready to depart. Sheep and hens were returned to their carriage.
Mariah boarded the carriage. She edged forward with cautious steps, careful not to jostle anything, then lowered herself carefully onto a cushion near the front.
“Lead the way, buddy,” Peter said, looking at the parrot. It flew into the air in response, maintaining a low attitude. With a clicking noise with his teeth and a light tap with the reins, Peter urged the horses forward.
The wheels creaked softly as they rolled over the uneven dirt path. The carriages swayed, linked to one another, pulled by the strength of the horsess working in tandem. Peter kept them at a walking pace. The journey ahead was long, and he needed to keep a healthy pace for their sake. Every once in a while, he would glance upwards to check on the bird.
Tall trees stood on both sides of the dirt road, filling it with leaves and twigs. The fallen leaves dampened the sound of the rolling wheels, but the caravan could still be heard from a distance.
Peter knew how easy of a target they were right now. Three carriages, filled with important supplies, driven by a child with no visible protection. Any bandit who spotted them would be tempted to ambush them. He wished he could do something about it.
At least the path was flat, Peter thought glancing at the ground before sighing in relief. Each of the carriages was filled to a moderate degree, carrying close to half a ton. A steep climb would tire them out too quickly.
Peter slowed down the carriage whenever they encountered a curve in the road. The forest was wild and untamed, the path full of twists and turns to manoeuvre around the trees. He reckoned that they’d be faster walking on foot.
When he planned the journey, he took his mother’s ailments into account and thus chose to travel by carriage to provide her plenty of rest. Now that she’d made partial recovery, he wondered if they really needed the carriages?
He shifted in his posture, looking back and asked, “Should we just abandon the carriages? If we rode, we’d go a lot faster.”
Mariah shook her head. “You’re the only capable protector that we’ve got. I’d rather stay inside the safety of the carriages while you fight wild predators,” she said, clicking her tongue. Her gaze surveyed the inside of their carriage. “We’ll have to abandon a lot of things. Food, weapons, tools, water. I prefer a roof over my head when it rains. No, thank you.” She added, before reading her focus back to the book she was reading.
Peter had to agree to her logic. They’d be trading luxury for speed. The sheep couldn’t march, hens couldn’t fly. The carriages were slow, but they were important.
For an hour, they made steady progress before Peter’s ears started to hear soft splashes in the distance. Overhead, the bird was circling above a spot roughly a hundred meters away.
“…Carriages can’t travel there,” Mariah said, poking her head out.
“But we can,” Peter said, jumping out of his seat. “So can the horses. The rest can stay on the road.”
“I can handle the horses. You fill the barrels,” Mariah grabbed the waterskins and followed his example, by getting out of the carriage.
“Alright,” he chuckled, freeing the horses from their harnesses.
“Here—” he said, handing her all the reins. “We’ll move together. Wait for me to grab an empty barrel.”
“Don’t take too long,” Mariah said, her lips curling up in a grin. “I don’t like to wait.”
Peter rushed to the last carriage, opening its back door. He grabbed the nearest barrel and tilted it forward to settle on his shoulder before returning to the front.
“Come on,” he said, taking the lead.
“Not bringing your summon?” Mariah asked, following behind with the horses.
Peter shook his head. “The distance isn’t that far. If something happens, it can instantly reach us,” he said.
As they walked, the canopy thinned, allowing direct sunlight to fall on their faces. The soil gave way to the crunch of gravel underfoot. Soft bubbling and gentle splashing sounds grew louder.
Peter looked below, past the ferns that replaced the ancient trees, at the modest stream. It glittered in the sunlight, its banks dotted with rocks covered in moss.
“Be careful,” he said, raising his hand to stop Mariah from advancing. “The slope might be slippery.”
Mariah nodded, looking back at the horses.
She slowed down, taking cautious steps as they descended the slope until they finally reached the stream. The water was crystal clear, allowing her to see the bottom littered with pebbles. It was barely deep enough to reach her stomach. Her eyes spotted a number of creatures in the water.
The horses neighed, one of them even nudging her shoulder with its muzzle as if to ask permission to drink. She stepped aside, letting them approach and lower their heads to drink directly from the stream.
Mariah crouched down at the stream’s edge and picked up a round pebble. It was cold. Her gaze swept the water again. She eyed the small fish swimming with the current. On the other side, a frog croaked, stealing her attention.
Mariah turned toward Peter, who was covering the barrel lid with a clean cloth. “Lots of fish in the water,” she said, dipping her hand in water.
Peter nodded and added, “Some snakes too”
“Where?!” Mariah retreated back a couple of steps, eyes fluttering with fear as she examined her vicinity.
“See that half-submerged log over there,” Peter pointed to the left. “There’s one inside it, likely after the cluster of snails nearby.”
“One’s in the water,” he said, approaching closer, barrel in hand. He stepped into the stream, walking in the middle, no fear in his eyes. Submerging the barrel, Peter let the cloth filter the water before filling it. By the time it was filled to the brim, the horses were done drinking too. He closed the lid, widened his stance, wrapped his arms around the barrel and lifted it, his lips curled in a simple smile.
“Time to go back,” he said, slowly walking out of the water.
“Wait,” Mariah lifted the water skins in her hands. “Let me fill these too. Shouldn’t take—”
“Not like this,” Peter shook his head. “We’ll boil it first. Any water that we use must be boiled first.”
“But…look at it!” she said, pointing at the water. “So clear and flowing. What else do you need?”
“Yes, yes. That’s a good sign,” he nodded, “but for all we know, there can be a dead carcass floating upstream for weeks, contaminating it with abyss knows what.”
“So,” Mariah sighed, “No point in bringing them here?” She pursed her lips, looking at the waterskin with dejection.
“It’s alright,” Peter smiled. “The horses had their fill. You can stay near the carriages now.”
They reached the carriages without trouble. Peter swapped the heavy barrel with an empty one, repeating the task until all were filled and safely kept inside the wagon. During that time, Mariah let the horses roam within their harness range, letting them do a light grazing with their heads lowered among rich patches of grass.
“Here,” she said, offering him a stuffed bread wrapped in cloth. She sat down beside him. No more words passed between them. Nearby, she placed a bowl of water and another with a handful of nuts atop a boulder for the Parrot, who swooped down and dug into them with gusto, intent on filling its stomach.
After they finished eating, Peter turned to the bird, and closed his eyes. His mind focused on the mental bond they shared via the skill. He unravelled the binding inside its mental domain and freed the bird . The parrot immediately launched itself into the skies, vanishing beyond the canopy, into the sky without a backward glance.
They pressed on for another five hours, pausing once in between to let the horses rest. By the time Peter signalled to stop, the sun was hovering low over the horizon, casting long shadows that clung to the wheels and ruts in the road.
The horses were exhausted, their flanks covered in sweat, steam curling from their muzzles. Peter moved quickly, unfastening the harnesses and running a damp cloth down their trembling bodies. He led them to a patch of thick, lush grass beneath a tree, tying them loosely so they could feed at their own pace.
In the meantime, Mariah collected dry branches to use as a fuel. She arranged them into a fire pit before starting a fire. She settled a large kettle above it to boil drinking water.
‘Maybe I’ll cook stew again?’ she thought, humming to herself, as she grabbed some wild herbs, dried meat and a bit of rice. She put them all together in a pan, and sprinkled them with plenty of spices.
Peter surveyed the campsite, liking it more and more. To the north loomed a massive boulder, with a jagged surface and veined with cracks. It rose as high as a small house. The earth sloped gently away from its base, creating uneven terrain that gradually levelled out as it merged with the curved route cutting through the woods.
All the other directions were filled with massive trees, forming a large canopy. The space was just wide enough for their three carriages to park side by side, with room to tether the horses under the sparse shade near the road. Though the incline made for uneven footing near the boulder, the flatter ground near the route offered enough space for a fire and the bedrolls.
He spared a glance at Mariah, finding her beside a roaring fire, her hands busy cooking dinner. Peter decided to explore the surroundings for a while, as they were running low on herbs and vegetables.
He grabbed a cloth bag from one of the carriages and surged toward the south. For the next two hours, he scanned every plant in his vision with Inspect and collected several edible herbs, such as wild mint, cheekweed, wood sorrel, wild garlic, onions, and some wild carrots.
Though the biggest harvest was of the mushrooms, as the forest was littered with them, and quite a few were poisonous. Thankfully, Peter had plenty of mana to check each of them with Inspect before picking them off the ground.
When he returned, he found Mariah sitting on the driver’s seat of a carriage, a bowl in her hand.
“What’s that?” she asked, after gulping down the food in her mouth. She used her chin to point at the bag.
“Just some herbs that I found nearby,” Peter said, putting the bag with the rest of their food supplies before walking toward the firepit. He was hungry as well.
“Don’t worry…I’ve an inspection skill,” he served himself a bowl of food.
“…Of course,” Mariah rolled her eyes. “At this point, I’ll be more surprised if you don’t have one.”
‘Lucky bastard,’ she thought, her nose pulled up in annoyance as she gave him a hard stare. ‘Show off!’
…End of Chapter…
