Rendevous In Retrograde
The whetstone ran the length of the blade. First one edge, then the other. This repeated countless times, before a cloth was brought out to polish the now honed dagger. Draugr went through this little ritual every time we had to wait. He would assess each and every piece of his equipment. Taking it out and stowing it again and again.
Others, like myself would read a book, study the horizon or play cards. Not Draugr. He was obsessive to the point of compulsion about his equipment. The first time I had to wait with him, I took it for a flair of showmanship, a chance for him to try and dominate others. When he did it the next time, and always without a word, I understood it for what it was - meticulous planning.
Draugr survived as long as he has as a result of his utter professionalism in all things. He’s been assumed dead more times than cats have lives - hence the name - and made it back because he was ready. He had a plan. He had the tools. He had to survive.
That meticulous nature of his saved my life on more than one occasion. The first being a check point much like the one we were at now. Dusty little town, little activity but at least they served cold beer and warm food. There were no reports of any activity in our sector, so it was meant to be a milk run. So we got sloppy. All save Draugr.
Today’s art is courtesy of Harold Palacios from Quito, Ecuador.