Georgia adored them. The mountains. She had seen so few, far in the distance, the Orimmir Mountains. There was a pigeon coop within Vernthouth that had, objectively, the best view of the naturally jagged skyline. There was something about the varying shades of blues against the endless sky that left her in awe. Long had she aspired to hike along its trails left behind by travelers, hunters, and outcasts alike.
Falistia 33rd, 0930
The journey thus far has been exciting for the girl, even with their gradual ascent almost perfectly lateral with the landscape. Georgia was thankful for the riding lessons from the Order, albeit brief, otherwise this trip would have been much more of an embarrassment than it was already. Getting onto her horse was a troubling task, requiring the aid of Vélaneah (the thought of asking for Stravi or Nazan's help with such a thing sent shivers down her spine). It wasn't until after she had finally settled into the saddle that she realized her pack was not yet attached to the large, painted horse. His name is Florence.
A few moments more of hurried humiliation and the group was ready to leave.
Falistia 33rd, 2200
As much energy had been placed into the journey, Georgia was tired. Everyone agreed to rest before the final stretch to their destination. She squirms in her saddle, legs uncomfortably shifting against the broad sides of her steed. Mustering what strength she had, she slowly kicked off the stirrups and her eyes fell to the ground far below her in deep consideration. A sigh, a quiet whimper, and she lifted herself from the saddle and stumbled ungracefully to the ground in some unfortunate form of a pirouette. She couldn't bear to see if anyone was watching, so she dusted herself off and prepared for the evening.
With some aid, she set up her tent and bedroll within. As this did take her a little longer than the others, wood was already sufficiently gathered for the night's fire by the time she was done. She turned in earlier than the others, hoping for a full night's restful sleep.
Falistia 34th, 0730
The young Human stirred in her bedroll, feet pushing into the bag's leather corners. The top of her head could barely be visible as she tightened it as much as she could muster to keep in her body heat. Georgia fluttered her eyes open, staring at the inner fur linings and wondering. Wondering why she felt so strange, violated
even. Her thoughts lingered on old tales her mama used to tell her of spirits from the forests and mountains that would find wanderers in their domain and lead them to some mysterious end. She shook her head and took a big breath, one meant to allow new thoughts to enter.
Georgia weighed her options. Stay in this roll for the rest of my life, or brave the cold?
With a whine that could almost be heard from outside her roll, she thrust her hands into the opening and audibly gasped at the chilly mountain air as it enveloped her. Like a butterfly from its chrysalis, she squirmed and squeezed out. Her coat, used like an extra blanket over the bedroll, is snatched up immediately and she covered herself with arms on the inside. The inside of her tent was bare, though her eyes drift around hazily as if something might be able to wake her up.
The girl performed her daily morning stretches, digits reaching to the walls of the tent and rubbing her fingers against the coarse fabric. She figured her hair was a mess, but that will have to come later. For the time, she simply slipped back into her clothes as best as she could manage without leaving the coat."Don't think anyone will be against breakfast, hmm?"
Georgia said to herself, inching towards the tent's entrance. She reached out with her hand, stopping short of the flap's edge. Something came in last night. Right?
This invading thought unnerved her. Her hand retreated to her coat as she twisted around, searching for any signs of an intruder. Nothing.
As she twisted around the other direction, she shook her head in light disbelief.
Finally the tent was opened and she crawled out like any champion of the Order would. She inhaled deeply and splayed her arms to her sides, taking in the northern air. Satisfied with this, as noted by her hands to her hips, a sagely nod, and a giddy smile, she figured she should answer nature's call and briskly walked out of the camp's immediate sight. Upon returning, she reached into the tent and dragged her pack out. She dug around. Rations. Nothing I can cook with. No seasoning either, of course.
Georgia dropped the bag near her sitting spot by the campfire that was drawn last night. There was still enough fuel to last another hour or so, were she to ignite it. This would mean little of her magical reserves as a spark is very cost-effective. And that's what she fully intended to do. She faced the wood pile and settled on her knees, extending one hand with an offering palm."Ignium."
Embers appeared in her palm, flickering even in the early morning sun's own rays. Fingers wrapped around the embers before she turned her hand and spread them into the center of the stack. Within moments, flames grew as tall as she could stand. Georgia shifts from her knees into a more comfortable position and retrieves some packaged bread. There she waited for the others to wake.