[u][b]Jonrik[/b][/u]

The rolling hills of continuous foliage were still green, and for that Jonrik was thankful. If he had to be travelling aimlessly with a vagabond group of men just as inexperienced as he was, he would want to do it in nice weather. He let a long sigh out from his nose, looking up at the sky and relentless sun without comment. The most talkative member of their group had been rambling under his breath and Jonrik paid him no mind at first. He was too busy thinking about the failure of their raid and the inevitability of his and his pretty wife's death to worry about the other man's religious concerns. He didn't ignore Audrunar, he merely kept silent. He looked back at Alva, walking closely behind him but as to not hamper his movement, and she smiled encouragingly at him. He gave her a slight nod, internally relieved she was not yet seeming to tire. Alva was a sort of rock to Jonrik; in this unpredictable sojourn to places unknown she was surprising supportive and pleasant. She looked tired and dirty, but not beaten, and could go for as long as Jonrik kept moving. 

The longer they traveled, the more Jonrik thought of his patriotic failure, and a grimace would flit across his features during their daily jaunts in periods of prolonged silence. Jonrik had been a proud man; he had a well-off business, a pretty wife that would no doubt soon bring him sons, and finally a position to defend that pride. But he had squandered it with his failure, and now his already small ego felt deflated. 

Jonrik's strides were strong and evenly spaced, showing no sign of weariness in front of his young bride and male companions. His arms were taut but not stiff, holding one of his hunting spears at his hip. His ax, made more for cutting woods than limbs, was strung on a loop on his belt, hanging down to his knee and movingly somewhat naturally with his leg. That only came after many readjustments from both himself and discreetly Alva the day before. 

As the group approached a small glade at the edge of a river the song of rushing water was a welcomed sound. Jonrik too scanned the opposite side for any sign of danger but found nothing more than Audrunar. After a moment of squinting at the horizon, Jonrik reached to the nape of his neck and loosed the tie holding his hair, and then dipped forward and submerged his head until the water met his brow. He straightened and brushed the water through his hair. As Erika and Faen left to hunt, separately which Jonrik found a little foolish but didn't say anything, Jonrik saw Alva rummaging through their pack and scowling. After a moment, he went to her. She looked up respectfully as he approached. "What's troubling you?"

"[b]Well,[/b]" she said loudly enough for both him and the others to hear, and shot a short glance at Audrunar, "[b]What we need right now, if Erika and Faen are trying to hunt, is fire, but we do not have a firestone in our pack.[/b]" 

Jonrik scowled and stood. "Well, regardless of how we start the fire we need wood." He looked from their position off from the river on their side to where the area became more wooded, mirroring the opposite side of the river. "I will go back and collect what I can." Jonrik addressed the group as a whole, not Alva, as he said this, and, assuming no one would object, Jonrik went to do just that, a hand resting on the head of his ax. 

[b][u]Alva[/b][/u]

The monotony of the sun beating down atop Jonrik's dark hair was beginning to annoy him. He was not an irritable man, which, in the group's situation was probably a nice benefit, but that was not to say he was perpetually congenial. The stiffness in his shoulders that Alva saw because of the heat's agitation was doubtless beginning to form knots that she would have to rub out later. She noted this, but then put it out of her mind. It was a worry and responsibility for when they stopped for the night. Besides that, she herself had a few knots affecting her comfort from their supplies, but she had the womanly grace to not show it. As the submissive gender, and the one that was considered to do less working, a whining girl was an ungrateful nuisance. Thankfully, their group had no such characters to deal with. Women like that aggravated Alva as much as her male superiors. She did shift the two packs on her back in response, though. 

Alva's personal pack, the smaller of the two, was a sack with a few pockets made of a single worked and processed elk hide with dried sinew draw ties at the circular top. A flap was sewn just beyond to cover the drawstring opening. The pockets, large enough to actually be considered pouches, were sewn on with more dried sinew. Inside were basic living supplies that most people planning on raiding for a few days with think to carry with them: an extra pair of clothes (one entire set for both Alva and Jonrik, but nothing more), a small amount of leftover rations (dried meat and prepared traveling cakes of cooked and baked fats, oats, and fruits), and a few random tools of Alva's womanly duties (specifically a few sewing needles in a small cylindrical container along with a thimble and awl, a small amount of sinew for sewing, a few small scraps of leather, a metal cooking pot, and a pouch with white willow bark). The pack was light and rested near her shoulders, on top of their heavier tools pack. The tool pack, another pack made of leather, was dyed black and shaped with a cubic back-frame. The end result was a black box with a strong bottom that closed with a top flap sewn to one side. The sides of the top tied closed at the sides. The pack, which did not extend much past Alva's lithe frame, was slightly sagged down with its contents' weight. The pack contained a single pair of tongs and pliers, a worn pair of leather gloves, two hammers with large and small heads, a few chunks of pre-smelted ore, and leather cut into strips. Above those tools were a broken down wooden frame for Alva's work and a few large wooden bowls darkly stained, as well as a few metal scrapers for treating hides. If they had left on a trade trip, Alva would have brought along the right fats for curing and waterproofing, but alas she did not anticipate this turn of events.

When the sound of running water started to drift lazily along to the group's ears Alva had to suppress a sigh of contentment. She was not used to traveling and her whole body, shoulders to feet, ached. When Alva stopped, she released her burden to the ground. "[b]I don't see anyone there. I think we should be fine. What's next? Anyone got any suggestions?[/b]" A man's voice was a sort of attention queue for Alva and so she paid heed to the sound of Ardrunar's query. Thinking the answer to his rhetorical question was fire, Alva knelt next to her pack and began to rifle through it, moving the larger items out of the way and groping at masses of clothes to see if they contained any hidden items. 

"[b]Saw plenty of deer tracks on the way here. I’m going to go hunt, while there’s still daylight,[/b] Alva frowned after a moment, thinking back to when she had packed that bag. Had she forgotten the flint, or had she lost it?

"[b]If you get a fire ready Erika and I shall delve the earth and seas for such a banquet to make those feasting in Valhalla green with envy![/b]" Regardless of the explanation of the flint's non-existence, she had no flint to her name. 

"[b]What's troubling you?[/b]" Alva came to rapt attention at Jonrik's voice, looking up at his face (though not necessarily his eyes). He stood over her crouched form and peered down through a few rebellious tresses of damp hair. 

"Well," she started a bit hesitantly, figuring that it was her fault they had no flint, "What we need right now, if Erika and Faen are trying to hunt, is fire, but we do not have a firestone in our pack." Alva looked up at the stragglers of their group as Jonrik departed with a few words. Alva stood and began to collect stones for a fire pit, asking the remaining members of their group, "Does anyone else have a firestone?"