[closed] homeward bound

[underpinnings]

WHO: Owen Prichard
WHERE: Grasslands, Old Corrals
WHEN: May 10 and onward
OPEN TO: Oliver Queen
WARNINGS: N/A

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Owen lifts his foot up from the mossy rocks around the spring, and puts it down in dry grass.

He stumbles the next step forward, boots acclimating to the flat, solid earth, his senses adjusting from the rustling forest to the open wind and sun of a wide field. Sucking in a deep breath, he blows it out, arms coming up and shoulders hunching, elbows slightly out. All of him braced as his eyes clear and he realizes--he's travelled miles in a single step.

Another breath, one more. Each slower and steadier than the last. Weird shit happens here: at least he's not underwater this time. At least he feels more or less the same, in his clothes and with his bow slung over one shoulder.

Lost space; maybe not so much lost time.

Looking around, he has some bearings--he recognizes the shapes on the horizon, a few of the mountain ranges he'd seen on the trek with Karen. Once he gets his heart rate down and his feet moving again, he can pick a direction based on that, or--

To his left, he hears running water, can see the dip in the land where it might slope into a stream. Likely as not, it'll lead to the river they crossed to get the moss, and he knows the way back from there. Maybe he'll find out what those flying snakes taste like; it's a long enough walk that he'll need something, unless he can find one of those nuts they accidentally fed to the antlered buffalo that dragged them home.

Looking to his right, he sets the question of how and how far aside for a moment. One post set into the earth draws his eye to another, and the detris resolves into segments of a fence. A little further beyond, a lean-to stands somewhat intact against the wind.

Cover won't hurt, while he finds a way to keep his sanity clutched tight in both hands. He feels better slinging the bow down his arm and nocking an arrow; no telling what might already be using the structure to escape the wind.