Ocean of Grass

The man introduced himself as Hyperion and he gave Shilah the lead. "Well met, Hyperion." The nomad nodded to Svala and took off across the prairie. The wind had picked up and was whipping the grass around them. The smaller fluffy clouds were starting to join together into larger ones, mounding slowly on top of each other. He hoped rain was all they were in for and not a storm. The weather could be fussy in the hotter seasons this far south. He was curious to ask Hyperion if he'd been at the party but decided to wait for conversation til they reached the border of the gulley. They weren't far and this was the time of haste. Once they cut far enough east the weather would become less of a concern. He shifted the bundles that rested across his back, one on either side, tied together with leather braids. While he wanted to be swift he also didn't want to drop anything.