1st of Summer, 516 AV
The changing of seasons went barely noticed by the Zith. Perhaps the air was a tad bit warmer and the chilly air of the night and predawn not as striking up in the high parts. But for all of that it was no different for her. One never ending battle to survive on her own. Kill or be killed. That was the law. For there was no protection to be had in the untamed lands where she dwelt. The humans to the west in their shining metal clothes would not offer their shields to protect one of her kind. Even had they known of her existence, she doubted it would do any good and probably turn ill for her quite quickly.
Not that she cared. They could sit in their underground castle and rot. In fact, she had often cursed vehemently in the night for the storms of magic that created her race to visit itself on the humans and take away their cuddly little safe world. Why should they get to lay in soft beds and get fat and old while she struggled to eke out a living in the mountains? Wren had all but given up the hope to find those like herself. It had been a hope she had once shared with her sister. The mere thought of her sibling turned her stomach inside out. Though her disappearance had been many many moons ago, the pain always felt fresh. Had she been abandoned by the only soul in the realm who gave a damn about her? Or had those men with sharp steel caught her and murdered her....
The huntress forced the familiar pattern of thoughts out of her mind and pulled her attention back to the present moment. The night was young and illuminated by Leth's ever watchful gaze. The night was alive with sights and sounds she had grown accustom to over her stay in the area. A bird called to its mate high up in the tree tops. Something small scuttled across the forest floor maybe twenty feet away to her right. The reflected radiance of the moonlight appeared to lazily dance with the languid motion of the river in front of her. The sounds and sights of the Bronze Woods calmed her, made her feel alive.
She wistfully recalled when first she and her sister and spied this particular place. Her sibling had laughed at how awed she had been at the majesty of the place. As if it was still that first time, she laughed huskily in return. But unlike then, her sister was not there to distract her by running to the water's edge and stealing a taste. Wren shoved off her perch on a low-hanging bough to sail lightly to the ground, her wings beat briefly before furling inward to allow her a leisurely walk to the riverbank. Peering down into the glassy depths, she saw a familiar visage. Familiar but strange.
She was no longer the same Zith she had been upon first arriving. Her blue-furred body had hardened with the chores of living in such an environment brought. A faint scar across her belly was visible. A line paler than the rest where her fur had not fully returned. Her mind was immediately flooded with memories of her encounter with the multi-armed bitch. She had vowed to exact revenge on the woman. Had searched her corner of the world from top to bottom, and had come up empty. She spat into the water with distaste. As if the defeat itself left a vile taste in her mouth she wished to be rid of.
There were other scars of course, to mark various hunts and such. Each conjured a memory; whether it be triumph or toil. Midnight-blue hair cascaded down the sides of her face to gather at a tangled mass all about her. Scarlet eyes gazed steadily back. She saw an edge to that stare that perhaps had not been there before.
"Petch you!" she hissed. She would not allow herself to mourn the death of her innocence. Her sister had been right. It was time to grow up. Nobody was coming to save her. She was alone. There was only the hunt. Be vigilant....or go hungry. With that she turned away.
The night beckoned for the huntress to awaken and for silly girl fantasies to rest.
The changing of seasons went barely noticed by the Zith. Perhaps the air was a tad bit warmer and the chilly air of the night and predawn not as striking up in the high parts. But for all of that it was no different for her. One never ending battle to survive on her own. Kill or be killed. That was the law. For there was no protection to be had in the untamed lands where she dwelt. The humans to the west in their shining metal clothes would not offer their shields to protect one of her kind. Even had they known of her existence, she doubted it would do any good and probably turn ill for her quite quickly.
Not that she cared. They could sit in their underground castle and rot. In fact, she had often cursed vehemently in the night for the storms of magic that created her race to visit itself on the humans and take away their cuddly little safe world. Why should they get to lay in soft beds and get fat and old while she struggled to eke out a living in the mountains? Wren had all but given up the hope to find those like herself. It had been a hope she had once shared with her sister. The mere thought of her sibling turned her stomach inside out. Though her disappearance had been many many moons ago, the pain always felt fresh. Had she been abandoned by the only soul in the realm who gave a damn about her? Or had those men with sharp steel caught her and murdered her....
The huntress forced the familiar pattern of thoughts out of her mind and pulled her attention back to the present moment. The night was young and illuminated by Leth's ever watchful gaze. The night was alive with sights and sounds she had grown accustom to over her stay in the area. A bird called to its mate high up in the tree tops. Something small scuttled across the forest floor maybe twenty feet away to her right. The reflected radiance of the moonlight appeared to lazily dance with the languid motion of the river in front of her. The sounds and sights of the Bronze Woods calmed her, made her feel alive.
She wistfully recalled when first she and her sister and spied this particular place. Her sibling had laughed at how awed she had been at the majesty of the place. As if it was still that first time, she laughed huskily in return. But unlike then, her sister was not there to distract her by running to the water's edge and stealing a taste. Wren shoved off her perch on a low-hanging bough to sail lightly to the ground, her wings beat briefly before furling inward to allow her a leisurely walk to the riverbank. Peering down into the glassy depths, she saw a familiar visage. Familiar but strange.
She was no longer the same Zith she had been upon first arriving. Her blue-furred body had hardened with the chores of living in such an environment brought. A faint scar across her belly was visible. A line paler than the rest where her fur had not fully returned. Her mind was immediately flooded with memories of her encounter with the multi-armed bitch. She had vowed to exact revenge on the woman. Had searched her corner of the world from top to bottom, and had come up empty. She spat into the water with distaste. As if the defeat itself left a vile taste in her mouth she wished to be rid of.
There were other scars of course, to mark various hunts and such. Each conjured a memory; whether it be triumph or toil. Midnight-blue hair cascaded down the sides of her face to gather at a tangled mass all about her. Scarlet eyes gazed steadily back. She saw an edge to that stare that perhaps had not been there before.
"Petch you!" she hissed. She would not allow herself to mourn the death of her innocence. Her sister had been right. It was time to grow up. Nobody was coming to save her. She was alone. There was only the hunt. Be vigilant....or go hungry. With that she turned away.
The night beckoned for the huntress to awaken and for silly girl fantasies to rest.
