Closed The Blooding [Traverse]

[Ezitli]

43ed Day of Summer, 514 AV It was nightfall at the edge of the jungle, just outside the stacked bone walls of Taloba. Insects chirped loudly in the trees, the occasional rustling of monkeys and other jungle animals adding to the natural symphony. Dark clouds had rolled in overhead, foretelling a storm, but Makutsi’s gifts would not halt tradition carried on from the establishment of the Clan of the Broken Spear. Ezitli was born this day, 19 years ago, and the weather reminded her of the stories her mother had told her of the birth. As she stared into the dark clouds above through the canopy, she could hear her mother’s voice in her mind telling her the tale. ”Then rain was pouring down, slipping through the cracks in the roof your father and I had built together. I couldn’t hear my own cries over the thunder and driving wind. It seemed to go on for hours, but once it was finished the storm seemed to calm. You didn’t make a peep, sound asleep through the wind and rain and thunder. From that moment I knew you were something special.” Now was the time to prove her mother was right. The gods watched her this day, judging her every action. The ceremony was done, as was the traditional feast before her journey, and now only the clan shaman followed her out into the growing darkness. She had only her outdoor clothes and her short spear, the traditional weapon of her clan, to guide her on the way. Her task was simple, leave Taloba and survive on your own for five sunrises and sunsets, hunting for the perfect prey. Once found, she must kill it with her spear and bring proof of her kill home with her, leaving the spearhead uncleaned. The shaman would taste the blood on her spear and tell of her battle before mixing the blood with ink. The mixture would be used to make her first tattoo, just above her mark from Myri if she had earned it. She could not fail in this. Now was her time to become a woman. Rolling her shoulders and wringing the shaft of the spear with her hands, she looked to the shaman for any final words of guidance. She could feel her features openly displaying her nervousness, as well as how much she wished to hide the feeling. She couldn’t help it; the most momentous occasion of her life so far was beginning. From Taloba she would head towards Zinrah, hopefully finding one of those vile Dhani to hunt. That would bring pride to her family and clan. That would prove her worth to Myri. Gods, I wish the shaman would say something!

[Traverse]

The shaman eyed Ezitli calmly. This was a ritual that not all came back from. It was not a place for frivolous emotion, neither fear, nor expectation, nor pride. If she were to die in this attempt it would be the will of Myri, of Caiyha, of Dira, and her soul would be returned into a Myrian mother to begin anew. For a male to rise so far as to be considered a religious head was rare, and one of the highest positions one could attain, but it was clear it had been well earned.

From a leather satchel attached to his hip the male produced a single large white fang, a Myrian Tigers to be precise. He stepped forward toward Ezitli and took one of her hands, drawing the sharp end of the fang along her palm in a single swiftly motion, leaving a shallow cut bubbling crimson. He dipped two fingers into her blood and made streaks from it beneath either of her eyes, then one line down the middle of her forehead.

"This is the blood of the child you were. It will wash away just as tracks are swept by Makutsi, as lives are taken by Dira, and as the face of the land is altered by Caiyha and her children. When you return it will be no longer as a child, but as an adult, may Myri guide you upon your journey, and show you the strength to make such a step."

Then he bowed his head low, took a step back and turned away from the child, pacing back through the wilderness, not to return until five days from now when they would all see what Ezitli had brought back.

A light drizzle began above the young Myrian, a droplet landing squarely on the top of her head as they wound from leaf to leaf down from the sky to the ground below the thick barrier of growth between the two. It seemed Makutsi would test her skills as well as Myri...

And then the trek, and hunt, began.

[Ezitli]

Ezitli could feel her spirit soaring as he spoke, the stinging pain in the palm of her hand sending a rush of adrenaline to her blood. This was tradition, one that would finally prove to her family and to the gods that she was worthy of adulthood and of her clan title. She could be whole, a true voice in the clan. She may even one day be a Fang Leader. She returned the bow the shaman gave her, though slightly deeper out of respect. He had treated the tribe and her elders well, but he was merely male. She could be so much more than him. But until that day, until she returned with her catch, he was greater than her and deserved reverence she gladly gave. He had proven himself time and time again, and carried their traditions with wisdom and grace. As he turned to walk away Ezitli moved her spear to her primary hand, the hand with the sliced palm, and pointed the tip towards the ground, watching with fascination as her blood mingled with the rain and eventually the soil. A spear for Myri. Blood for Dira. Water for Makutsi. Earth for Caiyha. All things were in balance at that moment, and she felt as if she were walking on air as she strode forth confidently into the underbrush, whispering short prayers to the gods of her people. She wasn't sure where she was going, or even where she was supposed to go. Ever since Tskala the Fanged brought back a Dhani during her Blooding, the youth of the tribe of the broken Spear had been released towards the home of the Dhani of Falyndar, Zinrah. None had done the same since the Great Unification under Myri, but that did not stop anyone from trying. Some returned with wild boars or apes, sometimes barbarians. A good sixth never returned at all. The odds would not stop Ezitli, though. She was determined to be the next Tskala for her tribe, the next great omen, the warchief under which they would thrive. She blinked the blood and rain from her eyes as she strode through the underbrush, carefully watching the skies more than her own footfalls.

[Traverse]

Traveling at night tested the senses and the mind. There would be no glimmer of Leth through the canopy to guide Ezitli this night, but where she began at the edge of Taloba clan land's marked the safest edge of her journey, the first step of a child to an adult, entering the unknown both in land and in darkness.

The rainfall increased slightly, making the soil and leaves beneath the Broken Spear's feet slimy and treacherous. She had to make good time on her journey, but no journey could be made if one sprung an ankle or wrenched the wrong tendon. As the rainfall increased, so too did the noises of the jungle. Frogs began to set up a caucophany of coraking ribbits, and the thrum and whistle of insects and night birds seemed to envelope the young Myrian in a cocoon of pleasant music.

Some Goddess favored her this night, for after she nearly slipped on a large boulder, a way, a path more marked and worn than most one would find in the jungle wilds, arrived beneath her feet, more stones and gravel making it up. It may have been an old stream bed, or perhaps a trail worn by Tskanna or deer, but regardless it carried Ezitli far more quickly through the jungle than she could have hoped to attain on such a dark and rainy night, a good sign for such an early start.

When she paused for a break, resting her legs a coulple chimes and taking in water, the first flash of lightning illuminated the darkness around her. The distant peal of thunder came many ticks afterward, and and as she rose another one, instantaneous, yet seeming to linger like strange godlike tendrils in the air struck out again.

For an instant Ezitli could see two distinct things. One was the trail ahead of her, still reaching onwards with worn stones and indented from the rest of the landscape. But to her left she also glimpsed a great fluttering moth, with mint green wings that could have easily taken up her whole head with just one half of its wings. It fluttered uncertainly beneath a large umbrella leaf, then struck off through the foliage to the left of the trail and off into the undergrowth, leaving Ezitli to contemplate the meaning of such an event as a slightly louder peal of thunder came bouncing into her ears.

[Ezitli]

Ezitli knew of no Goddess assigned to paths and travel, but whispered thanks to whoever had given her the gift of such a road on the bleak and tempestuous night. It was a pit in the earth, heavily worn like a dry river bed or, perhaps, a trench of some kind. Though she was no expert, Ezitli decided that the lane may very well fill with water if the rain continued, as flash floods were not uncommon in the rainy Summer seasons. She would follow it until signs of danger erupted, though perhaps it would be wiser to leave before her life was at risk. After a short rest several miles down the pitted path, the first lightning shattered the blackness around her, thunder rolling through her being mere ticks later. The second flash seemed to hang in the air, illuminating the world long enough for Ezitli to take in her surroundings. The path continued further on, with no end or destination in sight between the pouring rain and the dense cover of trees. To her left an enormous moth, green wings almost glowing in their soft brightness, fluttered beneath a leaf. It was enormous, elegant and without a doubt beautiful, capturing the entirety of Ezitli's attention by its mere presence. Something clicked in her mind. This journey was a test, proving herself to the gods. Was the moth a sign or a distraction? A guide or a tempting deceiver? Or was it simply a pretty moth? Her reaction was instinctual, some carnal sense driving her beyond reason. The moth had a purpose here, and she wasn't going to let it leave. Just as the strangely beautiful creature fluttered behind the trees, Ezitli clambered out and away from the path, driven to follow it down whatever strange and winding path it would take her. For a split second she looked back at the path she had been taking, conflicted between following the sign and the well beaten path, a gift of a god whos name she did not know. But she had made her decision. She turned her back on the road well traveled, and followed the mystery into darkness.

[Traverse]

The path was chosen, and barely a few steps forward if Ezitli made to turn around she would be unable to even see the emtpy stream bed behind her.

Now the going was harder. She had no rocky path to guide her in the darkness, so her movements were punctuated by taking advantage of each flash of lightning as it came and lit up the jungle. For the first three flashes Ezitli thought she may have lost her moth, but on the fourth she saw it again, hovering under another piece of shelter. The peals of thunder grew closer and as the young Myrian drew close to the moth this new thundering sound, barely a tick after the lightning came, startled a group of tent bats from under the meticulously structured palm fronds keeping them dry in hte rain.

Tiny white bodies, dozens of them, dropped from their perches with little high pitched shrieks, surrounding Ezitli in the sudden and enveloping darkness, then flew off through the leaves and branches.

The next flash was in time with the deafening rolling noise that was the clap of thunder in response to it. Though the tendrils were close, they did not reach Ezitli, yet she heard the groaning snap of a tree wherever the lightning had struck, not so far away, and the ground rumbled as branches, or maybe an entire tree trunk collapsed to the forest floor.

The moth was heading diagonally away from the disturbance in the forest, darting swiftly through a cluster of thick ferns. This was a game that Ezitli would continue to play with the insect throughout the night...

[Ezitli]

Ezitli knew from the moment her feet left the path that this choice of road would be a difficult one. She had to keep low to the ground, move fast enough to keep up with her lepidopteran guide, but quietly enough not to disturb it. The second part was the most difficult, as her training in stealth was mostly confined to skirting the streets of Taloba or hiding in place, lying in wait. Moving through the underbrush of the jungle and trying to be quiet about it was new to her. Upon finding the moth once more, an idea occurred to her. She could use the flashes of lightning to see, and the roll of thunder to disguise her footfalls. That way she could keep in line of sight with the moth, while not forcing it away from whatever course the gods had chosen for it. The last thing she wanted to do was shirk this gift, one that she firmly believed would lead her to glory. She continued following her mysterious large-winged leader into the night, away from the clamor of the jungle and towards whatever strange end the gods had in store.

[Traverse]

Ezitli found herself slipping into a pattern, and once she got the rolling during the thunder down, it was fairly easy to replicate. The rain pounded down through the canopy, but as long as the illumination kept filtering down, it wasn't too much of a problem.

Ezitli could not tell how much time had gone by, if the darkness was utterly complete because of the lateness of the hour, or an overcast sky, but gradually she was aware that the lightning strikes were growing fainter, or less frequent, or both. And then, suddenly the moth was gone.

The next flash, still wasn't there, and then...then there wasn't a next flash.

A rumble of thunder came after the flash beyond her vision, pealing gently compared to the caucophany of before, but the young Myrian was left in utter darkness, only the dripping rain and thrumming of insects and frogs.

There was the moment of inevitable uncertainty, of panic, but as Ezitli stepped forward through the unknown and dark jungle, her fingers brushed over something wet, cool, and firm. It was stone, and as her fingers continued to investigate the surface she'd realize it was carved, not simply a rough and uncut series of rocks she might have found imbedded in the earth.

If she moved along, following the rocks, she'd find the same solidity beneath her feet as she did her fingers, starting off in broken chunks with jagged edges, but moving into a much smoother cooler surface as she moved along.

Also, suddenly the air around her changed, and the rain stopped dripping on her, clearly marking an entrance of some sort. Shelter wasn't equivalent with safety in Falyndar, but it did give her a break from the downpouring rain, and now Ezitli was faced with another decision.