So Far Away From Here


Max.jpg Yaron.jpg

Date: 2010.08.28
Location: Somewhere a few days travel from the Weyr
Synopsis: 'Prize' in hand, the trip back is not without complications.
Rating: PG13 - Language
Logger: Max

Yaron and Max had taken turns standing guard over Phineus while the other slept through the rest of that day and through the night as they tried to catch up on sleep lost. However, it was too little, too late for the beast manager and by the next morning he was as sick as a canine - pounding headache, joints aching and running a fever, not to mention the hacking cough that wracked his frame as he moved about like an old uncle re-saddling and packing up the mule and Starflight.

Yaron got the sharp edge of his tongue when he suggested they rest up another day or two and the trader a cuff alongside the head for daring to be seen to delight in the younger man’s misery. All he wanted now was Ahni. Ahni and sleep! But neither was within reach right now. Not until he’d dragged his ‘prize’ back to the Weyr.

The rest of the day was spent in fever induced hallucinations that danced and taunted behind his eyes. The cold splash of an invigorating waterfall over his shoulders as he laughed at Ahnika making weird hairstyles out of her wet hair in the pool below - Yaron dousing him with water from a ‘skin to jolt him awake after he’d slumped over the big stallion’s neck. The horror as the heat and humidity of the hatching caverns broiled up around him and a headless dragonet kept running after him, flapping it’s tattered wingsails and kreeling for help – that when the fever would pitch and have him sweating as if stuck in the Igen desert. And then suddenly the blackness of Between where try as he might, he just couldn’t seem to find his father that kept calling out to him, the sound of a young child’s laughter floating all around him – this when he finally slipped sideways out of the saddle and hit the ground.

It was the coughing fit that finally woke Max, his lungs burning and head pounding for the effort, the sky above darkened but starting to hold the first pre-dawn lighting along its one edge, the campfire blazing heartily right next to him. Confusion had him blinking blearily about as he struggled to sit up. Where the hell was he!? Then peering down at his bared chest. Why the hell didn’t he have any clothes on aside from the thick blanket someone had wrapped him in like some kind of meatroll!?

Another coughing fit took over and had his eyes stinging with tears for the burn in his chest produced. Holy mother of all things winged, that hurt!

“Mornin’, sleepin’ beauty,” this drawled out in some amusement from Yaron as he ambled over, kicked the sleeping Phineus in the side to wake him up and hunkered down next to Max with a steaming mug of klah. “So…you love me better’n pie, eh?” Snickering over the fever induced ramblings of the younger man from earlier.

Max’s eyes ached as he cast them upward to the big thug and reached for the mug. “Fuck off,” he muttered thickly the tips of his ears burning a little with embarrassment. Pushing himself up onto one elbow he slurped a few mouthfuls of the steaming brew down and scowled over at Yaron, “How far out are we?”

Casting a glance skyward toward the constellations starting to disappear ahead of Rukbat’s rays, Yaron shrugged, “’bout another two days or so if we keep it slow.”

“Fuck slow, one day and I want us back!” Max slurred his words slightly and then tried to stand only to topple sideways spilling the contents of the mug with a sizzling hiss into the fire.

“Right,” Yaron returned dubiously, “Why don’t you do that. See how far you get without any clothes.”

Oh right. His clothes. Having landed on his back, Max glared up at the big thug, “Where the fuck are my clothes!?” he demanded to know as the world did a loop-de-loop about him, “And what…” thinking starting to get a little more difficult now and his speech thicker, “the fuck… was in that…” but he got no further as the fellice laced klah took hold, mumbling only, “want Ahni…” before it knocked him out cold.

“Heh,” the big man snorted as the younger man shut shop for the next few hours, out like a glowbasket and then quietly set about putting a fresh pot of klah to the fire for himself and the trader who very wisely was simply watching the goings on in silence.

It was hours later before Yaron woke Max up, tossed him his clothing and the three set off again.

Closing Credit: 3 Doors Down - Kryptonite

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