Journey
The air was cool and crisp as the first rays of sunlight had not yet
washed over the rolling hills of the meadowlands, and she shivered
slightly as she untangled herself from her sleep skins and got to her
knees to poke at the embers that remained of the fire she had lit the
night before. The scent of moss tickled her nostrils and mixed with the
smell of burning wood as she coaxed the fire back to life, tossing a few
branches from the pile she had gathered onto the glowing embers. The
morning was cold, indeed, and she eagerly pulled over her cloak,
wrapping the blue fabric around her body for warmth.
As the crackling flames licked at her offering, she curiously examined
the small protective circle she had placed around her resting place, and
nodded in satisfaction at finding her belongings undisturbed. Pulling
her satchel to her side, she searched out the two items she needed for
her morning bath; a carved horn comb and a small leather pouch
containing a lump of soap. Had she been home, she would also have had a
soft skin to dry herself with, but the journey from Alabu to Lejre was a
long one, and there was no sense in hauling more weight than absolutely
necessary.
Setting the bag of soap on the grass beneath her feet, she sat back on
her haunches and studied the comb in the light of the fire. The long
teeth were testament to the size of the horn the comb had been carved
from, and the intricate carvings that covered the narrow handhold an
indicator of the craftsman's skill.
A smile pulled at her lips and lent a small sparkle to the blue eyes
that had turned almost russet in the firelight. Old Regnar had carved
combs for as long as she could remember, selling his goods to the
traders and travelers that often came to Alabu. He had given this comb
to her as a gift, though, and she treasured it all the more now that she
was on her own. It was a reminder of her home, and of a dear friend she
hoped she would get to see again before he left this world.
The song of a single blackbird broke the silence, and as others joined
in to announce the new day, Arine broke from her musings and picked up
the soap and, as an afterthought, a slim, pointed stick and a thin blade
made from flint. She stood and made her way across the dew-moistened
grass towards the chattering of a nearby stream, pulling her plain cloth
shift tighter around her body to ward off the cool breeze. Summer was
coming, as was evident from the fresh, green leaves on the birch trees
that seemed to cluster at the edges of the stream, but spring still had
enough of a hold that the early morning air was fairly snippy.
Arine halted by the edge of the stream and knelt on the moist soil that
lined the banks. The comb and pouch were sat carefully on a large, flat
rock that jutted out over the water, and she hefted the pointed stick in
both hands as she peered intently into the water. Time passed as she
held her position stoically, the stick raised and ready to strike as she
sat at the water's edge, still as a statue until a small motion in the
water caught her eye and she shot the weapon forward in a savage,
precise thrust. The stick was then brought back out of the water, and
the freshwater bass was laid on the rock next to her other belongings.
She studied the fish for a moment as she untied the small braids on
either side of her face and laid the leather straps beside her comb,
then nodded her head in satisfaction. It was decently sized, and should
have enough meat to suffice for her morning meal; possibly more than
that. While she couldn't keep any excess food around for very long since
she had no means to prevent the meat from spoiling, it should easily be
able to last until she felt hungry again.
With that reassuring thought, she picked up the fish and the flint blade
and proceeded to gut and thoroughly clean her catch in the clear water.
Once that task was accomplished, she pulled off her shift and stepped
into the water herself. The instant prickling of icy needles made her
wince, and after a deep, calming breath, she swiftly dunked her entire
body into the water to quickly adjust to the lower temperature.
Effective as that method was, she couldn't quite avoid the unsteady
exhale that trickled forth as she poked her torso back above the water,
and she quickly retrieved the soap from the pouch and set about cleaning
first her body, then her hair. Her shift, she idly acknowledged, could
use a good cleaning too, but would have to wait until she was in a
position where she could let it dry afterwards, preferably during the
midday hours where she could rest in the shade while the clothing dried
in the sun.
Arine quickly pulled herself out of the water as she finished, and spent
a little while stomping her legs and clapping her arms around herself in
order to warm up muscles cold and stiff from the icy water. Since
pulling a dry shift over a soaked body was silly at best, she instead
used the cloth as a makeshift satchel for her comb, soap and the two
leather straps. The cleaned fish and the spear were held in her free
hand as she made the short trek back to her resting spot naked, letting
the slowly warming breeze dry her body. On this morning, she decided,
combing her hair would definitely be better done in front of a warm
fire.
***
The quiet of the pre-dawn surrounded her as she silently made her way
through the forest. The well-worn leather moccasins on her feet made
only a minimum of noise against the forest floor, and she took care to
walk slowly through the dense thicket. Her eyes and ears were peeled as
she neared the part of the river where the deer came to drink in the
mornings, and she instinctively reached one hand over her shoulder to
touch the quiver of arrows that rested snugly against her back.
Full.
Her trained gaze took in her surroundings as she flexed her other hand
around the handle of her flatbow. The elm wood was smooth and slightly
cool to the touch as she absently rubbed her thumb over the edge of the
leather-covered handle, her head cocking slightly as she sought out a
certain tree that always had an excellent view of the drinking spot. On
locating it, she stealthily made her way over to the thick trunk and,
after checking that the nettle fiber bowstring was securely wrapped
around one end of the bow, fastened the carefully crafted weapon in her
belt and started climbing.
As she climbed higher, a part of her mind noticed the increasing
brightness of the surrounding forest, and she stubbornly increased her
speed. She hadn't ever been less than ready when her prey arrived, and
today certainly wasn't going to be the first time.
Finally, she made it to her preferred perch. A long, thick branch of the
old oak stretched out towards the river; stabile enough for her to sit
several feet from the trunk itself while remaining hidden by the
numerous leaves. As she settled herself with her legs wrapped around the
branch and carefully restrung her bow, her keen sense of hearing picked
up the soft sound of hooves against the forest floor.
Good. She examined the bindings on both ends of the bow and pushed at
the string to test the tautness. A tiny sound of satisfaction escaped
her, and she rested one palm on the wood between her legs, leaning her
weight on the hand as she leaned forward slightly, peering into the
brightening sunlight with keen interest.
Knowing that her prey was most likely only moments away, she carefully
set down her bow, letting the weapon balance across the thick branch and
she pulled her long hair back, fastening the better part of it with a
simple bobby pin high on the back of her head. A few, shorter strands
still tickled the sides of her face, but the majority remained in
position, which severely lessened the chance of it blowing into her eyes
and ruining her aim later on.
Now, all Mia could do was wait.
A crunch in the thicket to the north of her spot caught her attention,
and she frowned. The sound was too heavy to have been made by a deer,
and indeed, as it continued, the dark eyes narrowed dangerously.
An intruder.
Mia's mind raced. While it wasn't exactly uncommon for Humanfolk to
travel through this forest, most of them preferred to stay on the road
that ran between the trees a few miles to the west. The travelers that
strayed too far from the road, and thus too far from the patrols that
the King sent out, were more often than not attacked by the bandits that
used the dense woods as a hiding place.
So, was this intruder a bandit or a traveler? Prudence dictated caution,
and Mia swallowed as she pulled an arrow from her quiver and carefully
set her aim in the direction the sounds were coming from. She had never
in her 19 years used her skill as a bowman against one of the Humanfolk,
and she quietly hoped that she wouldn't have to start on a morning as
beautiful as this one.
The leaves around her whispered softly as the breeze rustled through
them, and she held her aim, listening intently as the sounds drew nearer
and nearer, though she was still unable to see the intruder.
Suddenly, a shrill shriek pierced the silence, and she yelped as a large
hawk flew directly at her, apparently having taken offense at her
proximity to its nest. The arrow flew from fingertips suddenly slack
with surprise, and as her world tilted upside down, she vaguely
registered the sound of someone screaming.
Only a lifetime of living in the woods kept the young archer from
falling to her death as she lost her balance, and she instantly
tightened her legs around the thick branch. While her arrows fell out of
the quiver from her upside-down position, Mia herself was able to hold
on and hit the shrieking hawk with the end of her bow. The bird wavered
in mid-air for a moment and then relented, flying off to a nearby tree
and continuing to call out impudently as it watched her.
Dark eyes glared at the bird as Mia rapidly fastened the bow between her
back and her belt and proceeded to make her way back to the ground as
fast as she could without outright jumping.
She had hit someone. She felt a distinct shakiness course through her
veins as she jumped off of the lowest branch and literally hit the
ground running. The previous stealth disappeared completely from her
movements as she let her legs carry her through the thicket at a
surprisingly fast clip, heading for the location the scream had come
from.
Within seconds, she came to a halt at an alarmingly still cloak-covered
figure. One of her own arrows was jutting out from the person's
midsection, and Mia exhaled shakily as she dropped to her knees beside
the still form and cautiously pushed the blue cloak away to get a better
look at her accidental victim. The face she saw was that of a Human
female, probably not older than Mia herself was.
Mia glanced around, noting the position of the satchel the girl would
have to have been carrying, not to mention the...
"Oh, Mother." She blanched as she recognized the sturdy, brass-adorned
distaff that lay parallel with the Human girl's body, and mentally
kicked herself. "Not only do I shoot a Human, I shoot a Human seer?" Mia
bit back a frustrated whimper as she anxiously examined the girl. A
relieved sigh escaped her as she confirmed that the girl was very much
alive, but had apparently fallen over when she was hit and knocked
herself unconscious, if the blood-matted hair on the left side of her
head was any indication.
Frantically grappling at her belt with one hand, Mia laid the other over
the girl's stomach and studied the cloth-covered belly. The fabric was
liberally soaked with blood, which would explain the growing pallor on
the unconscious girl's face, and Mia knew she had to get help fast.
With that in mind, she pulled a horn from her belt and blew forcefully
into the pointed end, creating a deep, reverberating sound that to most
would sound much like a moose, but to her own people would be known as
an urgent call for help. "Please don't die," she muttered to the
oblivious Human as she dropped the horn to the ground and deftly snapped
off a good bit of the arrow, "help is coming."
Chewing her lower lip nervously, the young archer proceeded to gently
lift the fabric of the cloak free of the remaining arrow shaft. A cloth
shift, turned a sickening color of red, lay beneath, and that as well
was moved over the shaft and aside very gently as to not disturb the
wound more than absolutely necessary. Blood aside, the skin beneath was
surprisingly clean, but Mia nonetheless hissed as she got a good look at
the wound. The arrow was imbedded a good deal past the head itself, and
there was no way she would be able to get it loose without causing even
more damage.
But Friil would. The old healer had helped many survive wounds as
grievous and worse than this one, and Mia dearly hoped that the streak
wouldn't stop now. After all, killing an ordinary Human was bad enough,
but killing a seer, however unintentional, was as close to suicide as
one could get. Seers were the part of the Humanfolk that were always in
touch with the spirit realm; and much like Elven seers, Human seers,
also known as völvas, were able to not only communicate with the spirit
realm, but could also do magic on their own.
But a seer so young? Mia shifted her gaze from the wound and studied the
youthful face curiously. From what she knew, Völvas were old women, and
this girl couldn't be past her 20th year. Still, the color of her cloak,
the distaff, along with the calfskin shoes, the tinder belt and the
pouch of what was most likely seid tools pointed in that direction, even
if none were truly adorned in the way that she was told they would be.
She shook her head briskly. Right now, the priority was to get the girl
healed, not speculate on her lot in life. Mia clipped a small pouch from
her own belt and retrieved several pieces of dried white moss, which she
pressed against the wound. The moss would not only absorb the blood, but
also help significantly in slowing down the bleeding; a trait that made
it the most crucial item for any of her people to carry with them, aside
from the horn.
Hoof beats and shouts sounded in the distance, and Mia jumped to her
feet to be seen above the thicket, waving to the three men in Elven
clothing who, upon spotting her, swiftly turned their horses and
thundered towards her. "Mia!"
The young archer smiled as she recognized her cousin, Ansten, as the
lead rider. "I'm alright," she assured the anxious young man as she
bolted off of his white steed and ran over to her. "But she isn't."
Ansten looked past his cousin to the girl on the ground, and promptly
paled noticeably. "You shot a seer?" His large green eyes got even
larger as he turned them on Mia incredulously. "Are you out of your
mind?"
"It involved a taut bowstring, a territorial hawk and a near-fall from
40 feet up," the young woman frowned. "I didn't mean to do it." She
dropped to her knees beside the fallen girl again and resumed pressing
on the wound. "And she's not dead, but we need to get her back to Friil,
and fast."
The dark-haired man looked at the unconscious girl and nodded. "Wise
idea, cousin." He frowned as he took in the arrow shaft jutting out from
the exposed stomach, then turned to his companions. "You two, help us
out here, then double up for the ride back." As the men jumped from
their horses and ran over, Ansten grabbed the bindings one had brought
and knelt beside his cousin, efficiently securing the bandage around the
seer's midriff to keep the white moss in place. "You take Shoi's horse,"
he told the archer as he finished tying the bandages. "I'll hold onto
her."
Slightly relieved to have her cousin take charge of an ugly situation,
Mia nodded and, after securing both her own and the girl's belongings,
made her way over to the straw-colored stallion and mounted it. The
horse fidgeted underneath her weight, and she took care to calm herself
as much as possible, well aware that the animal could sense her
uneasiness.
While she waited for her cousin to settle onto his own mount and get the
girl positioned in front of him, Mia fastened the various items to her
saddle; a task made slightly more difficult by the fact that her hands
were shaking. What if the girl didn't survive? She would be responsible
for the family that lived on, not knowing what had happened to their
loved one.
Even worse, she had no way of finding them and passing on the news,
since she had no idea who the girl even was.
"Mia," Ansten's low voice broke through her thoughts, and she glanced
over to see her cousin on his horse, one arm encircling the wounded
girl's ribcage. "Let's not worry until we know."
Nodding slightly, Mia took a deep breath and nudged her mount into
motion as the others did. The animals picked up speed as their riders
jeered them on, all anxious to get back to their home and praying that
the hopes they placed in the old healer weren't placed in vain.
As the sound of the unconscious girl groaning in pain came to her over
the sound of the rushing wind and the thundering hoof beats, Mia lowered
her head and closed her eyes. "Please, Mother," she whispered so quietly
she could barely hear her own voice. "Let us make it."
"Let her be safe. Please."
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