Fic - Salvage - for 50ficlets
It's not long, so I haven't lj cut it
Title: Salvage
Author: Kazlynh
Claim: Table 3/Ronon Dex
Prompt: #4 Sour
Fandom:SGA
Rating: U
Word Count: 534
Summary: Smoke draws Ronon to the aftermath of a Wraith attack
He could smell the smoke as soon as he came through the Gate: burning wood mingled with something more acrid: tainted with death.
Normally, if there was any sign at all of human habitation, he would turn around, dial another address and leave. It was necessary. The tracking device in his back endangered any village he came into contact with. The only time he ever lingered for any length of time was if he had no other choice - when he was ill or injured - and then he left as soon as he was able to.
The smoke drew him towards it. He recognised it. It signalled the remains of a village; the smoking remnants of wood that had once been the backbone of dwellings; personal belongings scattered across the ground; milk turned sour; bread gone stale; butter gone rancid…
The village would be empty, scoured of life by the Wraith… but he couldn’t leave without searching for survivors. Besides, if he was lucky he would find something he could salvage among the ruins.
He avoided the path but paralleled it through the trees, alert for any sound that would signify either Wraith or human life. The forest was eerily quiet. There was no bird song, no buzz of insects… nothing.
It took him a half-hour to get to, what turned out to be, the ruins of a small town. The wooden buildings had all burned to the ground, but a few of the single-story stone dwellings were still standing. A handful of them even had their roofs intact.
Cautiously, he made his way through the silent streets, noting which buildings were worthy of closer inspection later. There had obviously been a market or a celebration of some sort going on in the town square when the Wraith had attacked. That was where he found the first bodies. Around them, stalls lay overturned, their contents strewn across, and trampled into, the ground. Right in the centre of the plaza, a brightly-painted pole stood erect and untouched by the devastation around it. Long rainbow-coloured ribbons hung from the top of it, moving gently in the breeze.
At the far side of the square, collapsed buildings sent isolated spirals of smoke into the air.
He stayed still for a long time, taking in every inch of the open area, waiting for any sign of movement, giving any potential attacker time to betray themselves. Finally reassured that it was safe to move, he went to investigate.
The sun was sinking towards the horizon by the time he tied anything that was worth salvaging into a moss-coloured blanket. Some boxes of dried and candied fruit; some skins of ale; a few rolls of dried meats; a small basket filled with round, flat bread; two, long, hunting knives with leather scabbards; some small pots of antiseptic salve.
He was already wearing the soft, dark-grey sweater he had found, and the leather chaps.
Everything else was useless…
Gathering the corners of the tied blanket in one hand, he hefted it over his shoulder. Then he stood for a moment, head bowed in silent respect for those who had died in this place, before setting off back towards the Gate.
Title: Salvage
Author: Kazlynh
Claim: Table 3/Ronon Dex
Prompt: #4 Sour
Fandom:SGA
Rating: U
Word Count: 534
Summary: Smoke draws Ronon to the aftermath of a Wraith attack
He could smell the smoke as soon as he came through the Gate: burning wood mingled with something more acrid: tainted with death.
Normally, if there was any sign at all of human habitation, he would turn around, dial another address and leave. It was necessary. The tracking device in his back endangered any village he came into contact with. The only time he ever lingered for any length of time was if he had no other choice - when he was ill or injured - and then he left as soon as he was able to.
The smoke drew him towards it. He recognised it. It signalled the remains of a village; the smoking remnants of wood that had once been the backbone of dwellings; personal belongings scattered across the ground; milk turned sour; bread gone stale; butter gone rancid…
The village would be empty, scoured of life by the Wraith… but he couldn’t leave without searching for survivors. Besides, if he was lucky he would find something he could salvage among the ruins.
He avoided the path but paralleled it through the trees, alert for any sound that would signify either Wraith or human life. The forest was eerily quiet. There was no bird song, no buzz of insects… nothing.
It took him a half-hour to get to, what turned out to be, the ruins of a small town. The wooden buildings had all burned to the ground, but a few of the single-story stone dwellings were still standing. A handful of them even had their roofs intact.
Cautiously, he made his way through the silent streets, noting which buildings were worthy of closer inspection later. There had obviously been a market or a celebration of some sort going on in the town square when the Wraith had attacked. That was where he found the first bodies. Around them, stalls lay overturned, their contents strewn across, and trampled into, the ground. Right in the centre of the plaza, a brightly-painted pole stood erect and untouched by the devastation around it. Long rainbow-coloured ribbons hung from the top of it, moving gently in the breeze.
At the far side of the square, collapsed buildings sent isolated spirals of smoke into the air.
He stayed still for a long time, taking in every inch of the open area, waiting for any sign of movement, giving any potential attacker time to betray themselves. Finally reassured that it was safe to move, he went to investigate.
The sun was sinking towards the horizon by the time he tied anything that was worth salvaging into a moss-coloured blanket. Some boxes of dried and candied fruit; some skins of ale; a few rolls of dried meats; a small basket filled with round, flat bread; two, long, hunting knives with leather scabbards; some small pots of antiseptic salve.
He was already wearing the soft, dark-grey sweater he had found, and the leather chaps.
Everything else was useless…
Gathering the corners of the tied blanket in one hand, he hefted it over his shoulder. Then he stood for a moment, head bowed in silent respect for those who had died in this place, before setting off back towards the Gate.