Hascombe Wool was not amused.<br /> <br /> No, Hascombe Wool was not amused, not in the slightest, because somewhere—somewhere not very far away, carrying beautifully across the open space over the river—someone had taken it upon themselves to start <i>screeching</i>.<br /> <br /> He rolled over in his hammock, the top cover cold and clinging with the dampness of the morning. The suspended cocoon rocked gently between its supports, and beneath it curling arms of fog sighed and stretched with the movement. Gently, he lifted the edge of the cover to look out into the dim light. And he looked murderous.<br /> <br /> Now, Hascombe didn't mind a bit of noise, no, not at all. Why, there were times he even liked quite a lot of noise. Noise could be useful, and noise, well, there were times when noise could just be plain ol' fun. But this? Oh, no. <i>This</i> was not one of those times. Being woken up in the early morning by the domestic screechings of some girl was—and he was quite sure on this—definitely never among those times of acceptable, or even tolerable, noise.<br /> <br /> It was more than that, though.<br /> Well, no, okay, it was mostly that. But it did alert him to some other equally troubling, albeit signifcantly less grating, factors. Namely that there was a voice to be heard at all.<br /> He should have figured that if anyone were to be nearby, that of course they'd keep pretty near the river, whether settling or travelling. Wasn't that just what he would do–and had done? He knew that, of course, that was just common sense.<br /> But clearly, what Hascombe knew, and what Hascombe did, were two very separate things, because he also knew he ought to scout out an area before stopping there. And that was something he simply hadn't bothered to do the previous evening.<br /> <br /> With a grunt, he climbed gingerly out of the hammock, fog dispersing in violent swirls around his ankles. There was no telling how many people might be down there, on the other side of a river or not. He wasn't sticking around to take in the scenery at the price of a hatchet in his back. His fingers moved stiffly over the ropes holding up the hammock, still thick with sleep, and the squawking started up again.<br /> <br /> By the time Hascombe had his glorified sleeping tarp rolled up and tied back onto his pack, his teeth were surely ground to nubs, but the sound level had returned to the rhythmic pulse of the water and woods. He wasn't going to wait for it to start up again. He heaved his pack onto his back and—<br /> <br /> "Sonuvva—"<br /> <br /> —misstepped onto a small, round stone, overbalanced with the weight on his back, and tumbled downwards several feet with all the grace of a turtle being used as a bowling ball. He came to an abrupt stop with the aid of a particularly large tree. The string of expletives being growled under his breath suggested that he didn't particularly care for the help. The tree was mildly offended, but there's just no pleasing some people.

It was a quiet, damp morning in the North Forest. <br /> <br /> Above the trees, the overcast sky sported even, thick cloud cover as a rolling, low fog carpeted the mossy floor. The needles of the spruce trees dripped from the previous night's rain and moisture hung in the air like fine lace. Dew collected in tiny droplets on the webs of the orb weaving spiders as the woods began to wake.<br /> <br /> As hushed as this morning was, comparative to most, the fog would never manage to silence the river, nor quell the roar of the falls below. Perhaps most importantly, it would never manage to silence Rina Ling.<br /> <br /> "YURA! Get out here and help me clean these pots! You've been eating the meals that I've been cooking for you every day, but you haven't so much as looked at any of the dirty dishes lately!"<br /> <br /> She scowled by the riverbank as one hand firmly grasped the handle of a slightly rusty saucepan. Rina and her younger sister didn't always see eye to eye. Yura was young, shy, and generally pretty irresponsible. Rina wasn't exactly responsible herself, but she was efficient. She did things quickly; acutely, even, and was frustrated when her sister failed to do the same.<br /> <br /> "YURA LING, I will come up there and this situation will escalate big time if you don't get out here and do this right now, do you understand?"<br /> <br /> And yet, still nothing. <br /> <br /> Feeling her anger burning a little hotter now, Rina stormed up the hill and into the small log cabin that the two sisters had built several years before. She steered herself with purpose and irritation straight into Yura's room but was immediately relieved to see that the little brat was rushing to put her boots on. <br /> <br /> The kid, who was very obviously still half asleep, had managed to put them on the wrong feet, however. Rina's frown immediately relaxed as she knelt down to remedy the situation. <br /> <br /> Grimacing at her own foolish mistake, Yura muttered a quick "Thanks..." and without another word, trodded down the dirt path that led to the riverbank to wash up.<br />