Board Thread:Fun and Games/@comment-36669222-20181123183425/@comment-27163598-20181127021438

"Gentle" he calls as Snapwrist lands in a clearing on the island, he sluggishly dismounts and low body of his companion. He scopes the area, seeing a tree hanging slightly over the slow running river. He pulls on the reins and Snapwrist follows him, also very tired. He starts undoing the straps around Snapwrist's face, removing the reins and bridle. Snapwrist licks her lips with the freedom the bridle and the metal beam that sat in her mouth didn't allow. Nackfist hangs the reins up on the large overhanging branch and proceeds to remove the saddle and with Snapwrists help, places it firmly over the branch.

He reaches into the back pockets of the saddle and pulls out his bedroll, which unfolded itself into a hammock, woven with a interesting pattern of serpents weaving in and out of mist. He hung the hammock directly underneath the saddle, so that the side covers could protect him if it rained.

They had been flying day and night, and Snapwrist was incapable of traveling that distance, so taking consistent breaks every hour for 30 minutes, and each break was becoming less and less efficient at restoring Snapwrist's stamina. Plus, floating on the ocean surface is not only an ineffective place to rest, but also much more dangerous.

He turned and looked as Snapwrist sluggishly dragged herself into the river, impatient to rest and eat. Nackfist quickly called her name, she turned her head slightly in acknowledgment and stopped in place, water having already reached her chest and back legs.

"Share some with me please" he simply said, she blinked at him before turning back into the water, taking a big breath before submerging her, followed by everything else. As she dived deep, she became unseen, and panic set over the deer which were grazing on the other side of the river inspecting the newcomers. Nackfist hadn't noticed them before now, since on that side of the river in that particular spot, the treeline was in sync with the waters edge, so the deer had perfect cover in the forest. Seeing as one of the newcomers, the dragon, had now disappeared into the water, they started backing away further into the forest, large males barking warning for the others to movie it.

Nackfist watched as the final deer dove into the darkness of the forest, unseeable to his naked eye. He smiled to himself before turning to the tree his stuff was hanging on. He started removing all his overwear, leaving his singlet and undershorts on, and hung them over the branch before walking ankle deep into the water and started rinsing all the salt from his skin and hair. The water was freezing, and the cold breeze wasn't helping. He grabbed his overwear, excluding his fur jacket, and started washing them off in the water before placing them back on the branch to dry.

He dried himself with an old rag and put on a new outfit from his saddlebag. He started walking around the area a little bit, picking up old bark and twigs, collecting them together in a small pile next to the tree not far from his hammock. He used mace to break up some sticks and small branches and piles them up in a teepee shaped stack so that it would all burn better. He reached for his belt and pulled up a small vase shaped jar, he pulled the clog out the stop and gently tipped the jar over the stick stack, he slowly allowed a few drops of a watery liquid to flow out over the under twigs and bark. He quickly stuffed the clog back in and placed it to the side, away from the stack for safety reasons. He pulled a small contraption off his belt, a simple sparker, made from bits of different metals and stones. He started scratching it together at the stack base, a few sparks catching onto the little drops of liquid and lighting up for a few seconds. The drops burnt out in mere seconds before any of the twigs caught on.

Nackfist frowned to himself, before grabbing the little jar and tipping it slowly over the fire again, though, this time, he was holding it a good height above the stack and watching as one of the smoking twigs below lit up again, bursting with small flames every time another drop fell on top. Within the next ten minutes of careful blowing and poking, the campfire was roaring.

He got into his hammock and wrapped himself up, with his head sticking out on top facing the fire, watching it intently, waiting impatiently for the warmth to reach him. Soon, his eyes forcefully closed and he began drifting off to sleep. Not even waiting for food to arrive or the heat of the fire to start toasting him, he just slept.