#rumar

for @gvardi-l i wish you all the best, dear <3

lonely times

¡Bien fome la wea! D: 

“Simra? Uh — Simra wake up.” The voice was too new to quite latch onto. “Simra you need to wake up. Now. Simra you rot-sucking film of cistern float-scum look out!” I scrambled back and out of my bedroll, eyes bleary to hear Rumar haranguing me. For the first time since I’d met him his voice was raised and frantic. What happened next is a blur but I have gathered the pieces. Ice wraiths, drawn to the warmth of our bodies and of our fire. They came in the early morning, just as dawn slid into the Eastern sky. They would have eaten me I suppose. Or else leeched the soul from me, or the heat — whatever it is ice wraiths prey on warm-blooded creatures for. They were almost invisible but I could hear them hissing. I fought them off with a stick snatched from the fire’s embers, and blasts of thick-headed ill-used fire magic. But Rumar’s words went from insults and cries of horror to a desperate shrill excited kind of support. He urged me on. And finally the things were reduced to fuming crystals and shuddering distortions in the air. I let him out after that and let him at a little bread, toasted on the rocks about the campfire, still half warm after a good stoking. He hasn’t told me where he’s headed. But I think it’s safe to presume the answer might be a sly ‘where are you headed?’ We’re travelling on soon now, up into the Wayward Pass.