The night breeze blows across the treeline to an audience of whispering woods. A discrete ovation follows, dark branches shaken against each other in a fading echo around myself. It is almost clear at this height. My elven eyes reflect the starlight gleaming against the polished edges of each leave, and the scattering of twilight critters amongst the underbrush sharpens my awareness to an almost predatorial level.
Yet there is something odd in the air tonight. The forest is uneasy, and its worries cascade from valley to mountain like a rampant river. It is not a simple task to describe this feeling. Only the wisest and eldest amongst us can read the signs of the feathers and listen to the deep roots, but it is evident that something is not right. I, Klavak of the woodland people, have been asked to scout the southern border. My experience is as limited as my age, but my willingness to step up to the task made up for my lack of skill. The lifespan of the ancients is long and paced, and it is not often that a youngblood finds such a chance to prove himself before the tribe.
I step forwards and squat on top of a higher branch, the leather soles of my light boots offering more than enough purchase against its serpentine surface. Alert, attentive, I have been tracking a suspicious trail of scratches and broken twigs. There is recent damage on this tree: Three evenly spaced cuts across the dry bark, slowly oozing golden sap. Whatever caused them must be close by. I can't refrain to draw a confident smile - As justice would be dealt soon, and balance restored to the dead of night.
Snap. Sudden, ferocious, the deafening explosion of razor sharp fangs shutting close inches away of my neck make my heart jump. I leap away under a rain of splinters, instinctively grasping at lower branches to cushion the impact. It is a hard fall through the canopy, bracing for impact in a hailstorm of wooden daggers. I hit the floor and roll, hands darting towards bow and arrow in a single continuous motion. Nock, draw, loose. And miss. The projectile buries itself in the vegetation while the beast follows as a black blur. It's too fast. I hardly manage to interpose my weapon between myself and the ivory death, immediately snapped in half after a second bite. There is no time for thinking, no space for training. I strike hard with the lifeless half of my bow, whipping the creature's head on the side.
I can't win this fight. My feet take control of the situation and advantage of the brief window opened on that moment. I run desperately at the edge of my ability, hunter become hunted. There´s blood running down my forehead, and mean thorns cut through my clothes as through butter. But I don't stop, I can't stop. I can hear its growling breath on my back, I can feel its powerful claws digging deep into the forest floor. I run faster than I've ever run, further than I've ever been. The ground starts to slope downwards, picking up dangerous speeds. An avalanche of dead leaves starts chasing my feet and then the ground simply, abruptly, ends.
I fall into the darkness.
Hey, I'm going to be writing here a bit.
Everyone is welcome to join in, but if you want to interact with my character please wait until I finish the intro and he gets to Cork!
Cheers
Everyone is welcome to join in, but if you want to interact with my character please wait until I finish the intro and he gets to Cork!
Cheers