[Wild Roses] first war
Title: lunch is happening, whether or not you meant it to.
'Verse/characters: Wild Roses (wars); Isael, Conall
Prompt: 02B "good"
Word Count: 482
Notes: A friend was having a kinda meh day yesterday, and she'd asked for 'Conall bugging Isael to sleep/eat and/or finding him after he's finally keeled over. ' at some point, so.
Someone fell into step with him, as easily as he fell into his father's shadow, and he was trying to identify his new companion by tread when a deep voice rumbled "When was the last time you ate?"
Conall, then. He checked his stride, thinking about it, then glanced back at the wolf, who was frowning.
"If you have to think about it that hard," Conall said, "it's been way too long. Come on, someone will have fruit and bread around here."
" . . Why is this so important?" he had to ask as Conall slid into the lead, his head raised to follow what Isael had to assume was a scent trail. He himself could only smell distant ash and smoke on the prevailing breeze. "I've gone longer without needing to eat before."
Conall checked his own stride, glanced back and down. "Five'll get me ten that it was before you had any training. And sure as winter it was before Dad sent you out breakin'."
"I'm not even hungry!" he protested. "I was about to head back out and keep digging."
"Yeah, I noticed," the wolf agreed, circling around behind him and giving him a nudge to get him moving again. "That's not a good sign, in a prince's son. Left-side trail."
Isael rolled his eyes towards the ominously clear sky, but went down the indicated path, which led them out of the trees and onto a cleared slope overlooking the plain he'd been helping dig up to slow down the grass fires. It was a pretty view, for all the sullen smudges on the horizon and the worryingly low level of the river at the foot of the hill.
Ten minutes later, he was eying a string of semi-dried sausages as long as his arms-span in disbelief. "There is no way I'm going to eat all of that, Conall."
"I'll eat the leftovers," his cousin replied placidly, sitting crosslegged on the ground and gnawing on a slightly stale loaf of bread with every sign of bliss. "Have a sausage, cousin."
Sighing, he dropped down next to the wolf, started slicing up the first sausage into thick rounds.
The meat was good, he had to give it that, generously garlicky and peppery, with notes of fennel and mustard seeds and maybe a little cumin. It matched well with the wedge of cheese Conall had also extracted from one of the quarter-masters, along with two loaves of bread and a jug of water that'd been stewed with mint and lemon rind in one of the big terra-cotta jars propped under the half-wilted shade of the trees.
It didn't match at all with the oranges Conall had snatched out of the air as they were flung at his head by the mildly irate quarter-master. He caught himself making a face at the half-eaten fruit, and his hope that Conall hadn't noticed was dashed when his cousin shook with silent wolfish laughter.
'Verse/characters: Wild Roses (wars); Isael, Conall
Prompt: 02B "good"
Word Count: 482
Notes: A friend was having a kinda meh day yesterday, and she'd asked for 'Conall bugging Isael to sleep/eat and/or finding him after he's finally keeled over. ' at some point, so.
Someone fell into step with him, as easily as he fell into his father's shadow, and he was trying to identify his new companion by tread when a deep voice rumbled "When was the last time you ate?"
Conall, then. He checked his stride, thinking about it, then glanced back at the wolf, who was frowning.
"If you have to think about it that hard," Conall said, "it's been way too long. Come on, someone will have fruit and bread around here."
" . . Why is this so important?" he had to ask as Conall slid into the lead, his head raised to follow what Isael had to assume was a scent trail. He himself could only smell distant ash and smoke on the prevailing breeze. "I've gone longer without needing to eat before."
Conall checked his own stride, glanced back and down. "Five'll get me ten that it was before you had any training. And sure as winter it was before Dad sent you out breakin'."
"I'm not even hungry!" he protested. "I was about to head back out and keep digging."
"Yeah, I noticed," the wolf agreed, circling around behind him and giving him a nudge to get him moving again. "That's not a good sign, in a prince's son. Left-side trail."
Isael rolled his eyes towards the ominously clear sky, but went down the indicated path, which led them out of the trees and onto a cleared slope overlooking the plain he'd been helping dig up to slow down the grass fires. It was a pretty view, for all the sullen smudges on the horizon and the worryingly low level of the river at the foot of the hill.
Ten minutes later, he was eying a string of semi-dried sausages as long as his arms-span in disbelief. "There is no way I'm going to eat all of that, Conall."
"I'll eat the leftovers," his cousin replied placidly, sitting crosslegged on the ground and gnawing on a slightly stale loaf of bread with every sign of bliss. "Have a sausage, cousin."
Sighing, he dropped down next to the wolf, started slicing up the first sausage into thick rounds.
The meat was good, he had to give it that, generously garlicky and peppery, with notes of fennel and mustard seeds and maybe a little cumin. It matched well with the wedge of cheese Conall had also extracted from one of the quarter-masters, along with two loaves of bread and a jug of water that'd been stewed with mint and lemon rind in one of the big terra-cotta jars propped under the half-wilted shade of the trees.
It didn't match at all with the oranges Conall had snatched out of the air as they were flung at his head by the mildly irate quarter-master. He caught himself making a face at the half-eaten fruit, and his hope that Conall hadn't noticed was dashed when his cousin shook with silent wolfish laughter.