Chapter 1 - The Hunt

A steady breath. Narrowed eyes tunneled on the target. Sar'tara drew back her bowstring, muscles flexing, wood creaking.

Just an inch more forward.

She stared unblinking at a hare just beyond the thicket that hid her. Her first potential meal since the night before. Gnawing hunger sent pulses of impatience through her arms. Her aching thighs, crouched for so long, begged for rest. One more inch. One more and her shot would line up perfectly.

The hare lowered its head, nibbling on shoots of grass. The glowing edges of a shade-wisp flower reflected a pale blue light within its beady eyes. Dusk had passed some time ago, bringing with it blooming everflowers that illuminated the forest floor. Their glowing petals would close again come sunrise.

Sar'tara's long held breath began paining her chest. She parted her lips for an exhale just as the hare moved that one inch forward. Twang! Not a second's hesitation. The briefest of shrill squeals came from her prey as the bone tip of an arrowhead pierced its paltry hide. It collapsed. Sar'tara breathed, standing at last to relieve her thighs and knees.

She pushed away the branches of the thicket to collect her prize. Carefully, she removed her arrow and wiped its red stained bone tip on the soft ferns growing around the roots of a young oak. Her stomach continued to growl as she took her meal back to her campfire in a clearing a hundred paces away. Sar'tara unsheathed one of two bone knives hidden beneath her knee length leather skirt. She sat down and began skinning the hare, relaxed and experienced fingers working swiftly. Finished, she discarded the pelt. It was too small to be of practical use.

Sar'tara hung her meal on a spit and walked to a shallow river opposite her camp to rinse her hands. She paused at the edge of the bank, spotting a pair of dark eyes watching her from a distance. The eyes of a naiad, its body submerged in the river with only half its head poking out. It had been following Sar'tara for the past two days.

She returned to her fire, hoping the naiad wouldn't approach. Interactions with nymphs were seldom pleasant. Sar'tara let out an overdue yawn as she stretched her arms, unintentionally loosening the laces of her cropped deerskin pelt top. She bound it appropriately before leaning back against the trunk of a great willow, resting her thick braid of silky black hair over one shoulder.

She gazed up at Illusterra's three moons through the cracks in a deep green canopy. Blades of pale silver kissed the bronze of her skin. The calm of the forest was a breathless whisper. A calm accompanied by water running over smooth stones, rustling leaves, and the slight crackle of flames as the hare's fat dripped down. Her fingers brushed over shoots of grass in idle occupation. Hanging fronds of the willow danced like loose strands of her hair. The sweet aroma of roasting meat made her stomach growl again. It was the only thing keeping her eyelids from rolling shut.

image [https://i.imgur.com/WgiUkZk.jpg]

Her brief respite was short lived. Serene silence was interrupted by a splash of water. Sar'tara stole a weary glance to her side as a pair of pattering footsteps drew nearer to her. The naiad came to stand before the small campfire, water rolling down her slender legs. She examined the flames from above before squatting down. Sar'tara didn't say a word, though her brows furrowed slightly. The naiad picked up the discarded pelt with her wet hands and rubbed it against her face. She smiled at Sar'tara, orange flames dancing inside her large dark eyes. Her ropey black hair, wet, stuck to the pale blue skin of her bare body. "Soft," she said, still rubbing the pelt against her round cheeks.

"Yes, I would imagine," Sar'tara responded, refusing eye contact.

"Very soft."

"Mhm."

"I want it. I really, really want it," the naiad sang.

"I have no use for it," Sar'tara said, tapping an impatient finger against her leg.

The naiad cocked her head to the side, lips curling further. "She says she doesn't need it! Then can I truly have it? I really, really want it!"

Sar'tara frowned. Amongst the many curious habits of nymphs, asking redundant questions was one of them. It was a habit that annoyed her to no end. "Yes. You can have it."

"Can I have this too?" the creature asked, pointing to the roasting hare. "If yes, I'll say I love you!"

"No."

"But—"

"No!"

The naiad pouted. She sat before the fire, pressing her bare rear against the dampened ground before her feet. Sar'tara clicked her tongue, hoping for the unwelcome company to leave soon. The blue skinned creature stared at her garments. "Are those soft too?"

"You most certainly will not be getting my clothing," Sar'tara said, scowling. She tucked in her knees as if to further prove her point.

The naiad puffed her cheeks. "Mean. She is mean. Very mean. Doesn't give me what I want."

"I gave you the pelt for free," Sar'tara pointed out, flashing a glare.

"But I want more! Wait. You said free? Then can I have that for a trade?" the naiad asked, pointing back at the roasting hare. The melody in her voice had disappeared.

Sar'tara's eyes narrowed. "Trade?" This was the first she was hearing of bargaining with a nymph. Nymphs were created daughters of the Forest Deity, Ny'Danis. Creatures made from either water or soil. Those of water were of pale blue skin; naiads. Those of soil were of pale green skin; dryads. They were impartial to Ny'Danis' birthed daughters, the Vashiri tribeswomen, typically only showing themselves for trivial selfish desires. Or to play pranks. "What manner of trade?"

"I know. I know, I know, I know! Sar'tara must return to her tribe tomorrow. Your three days of hunting are over. Someone else will try in your place. I know it all! You will return to the Selharr tribe empty handed. But give me this, and I will lead you to a wild boar! I saw one. Before you sat here. Before you started a fire. I saw one on the other side of the river," the naiad finished, the song in her voice returning just as abruptly as it'd ended.

Sar'tara's eyebrows went up. She sucked in a breath, leaning in and now fully awake. Her growling stomach and that tempting aroma of meat gave her pause, but for only a second. A boar was too prestigious a prey to pass up. She couldn't risk having it fall into a competing tribe's hands.

The Vashiri peoples were separated into three tribes; The Selharr, the Mäkhain, and the Kreiva. Sar'tara was of the Selharr tribe —a tribe of fifty women. The Mäkhain were of similar number while the Kreiva, the most prideful of the three, numbered near three hundred women. Each tribe's huntresses competed with each other for the Forest Deity's favor. Once every three days, a member of each tribe set out to hunt for their people, competing for large animals within the Papillion Forest. "A boar you said. How big?"

image [https://i.imgur.com/iTW00WC.jpg]

The naiad went down on all fours. She mimicked a four legged animal and then held up two fingers at the corners of her mouth to imitate a boar's tusks. "About this big. But bigger belly than me. Much bigger."

Sar'tara shook her head. It didn't seem very large. Nymphs were barely chest height when compared to the average huntress. "Show me."

The naiad sat back down. She plucked a white flower from the ground, inspecting its glowing yellow pistils. "Only if you give me that," she said, pointing at the hare again.

More redundancy. "Of course I'll give you that. But you'd better hurry or it'll burn before you get back here." Sar'tara stood up. She stumbled, her body weak from hunger. She glanced at the everflower in the naiad's hands. A kresip flower. Its white petals held a powerful, though dangerous stimulant. Mixed with other plants, it could create an energizing medicine. Eaten raw, it would provide a fleeting boost of strength, bringing about terrible and twisting pain within half a day.

Sar'tara clenched her fists. There could be no half measures. She had been raised to become a Guardian of the forest. It was what all birthed daughters of Ny'Danis strived to achieve. She would give anything for that. Anything to see her beloved Mother again, whom she had not seen in fifteen years. Prestigious prey were rare. If Sar'tara failed her hunt, she would get another chance within a few months. But it could be years before she came across a prey worthy of being hunted. The last time had been near eight years prior, when she'd been fourteen.

She searched the area for more kresips, their glowing pistils making them an easy find. Nine petals would be enough to last the night.

The naiad watched with her head tilted, one finger upon her lip. "That is bitter. Not tasty. Bitter and dangerous. Why does she eat these?"

"Because I need to," Sar'tara said, chewing. She reconsidered, thinking of spitting out the petals. The after effect was expected to be devastating. She clutched her chest and swallowed the bitterness down. A small price to avoid years of heartache without her Mother.

The naiad jumped back into the river, motioning for Sar'tara to follow. She strapped her quiver to her back and ran along the riverbank. She had ten arrows. Nine too many. She had absolute confidence in her skills. The bottom of the quiver was doused in a numbing poison. It was harmless to consume and needed to enter the bloodstream to take effect. Useless on small animals like a hare. But for a boar, it would be vital. Especially if it was a fully grown male.

Sar'tara already had Ny'Danis' favor for hunting down a bear during her coming of age ceremony eight years prior. Bringing back a boar would all but guarantee the opportunity to see her beloved Mother again as well as take the Guardian Trials. And passing the Trials would allow her to stay by her Mother's side for her remaining life.

The naiad stopped moving. It poked its head out of the water. Sar'tara came to a halt as well, crouching behind a thicket and nocking an arrow on her bow. "It was here. I know it was. I saw it!"

"Hush," Sar'tara whispered. Her hawk-like vision caught movement a fair ways off on the opposite side of the river. Fireflies in the distance added to the dim illumination of the forest floor. They suddenly scattered. Sar'tara caught sight of the boar's snout. She smiled. It was big. Bigger than the naiad had made it out to be. A Tricora Boar. It had a sharp bone protruding from its skull to complement the curved tusks at the sides of its mouth. Sar'tara's heart raced. Her fingers twitched. Her legs trembled with an urge to burst out in a sprint and waste her newfound strength. The effects of the kresip flower were beginning to show. "Go back and eat what you wanted," Sar'tara ordered in a whisper.

The naiad sank below the water again, her blue skin making her near invisible. Sar'tara stepped into the river, its water cool against her bare feet. She put away her arrow and bow and began crossing. At its deepest, the water reached the base of her neck. She swam across, trying her hardest to keep her head above the surface and eyes peeled for any signs of movement. Bushes occasionally rustled and sharp cracks of snapping twigs accompanied. Once out of the water, she tiptoed to where she'd seen the group of fireflies before. They still hovered around the general area.

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Sar'tara had lost sight of the boar. It did not trouble her. Hunting was a game of patience. The boar's tracks were still noticeable. She followed them further into the woods, stepping lightly as tickling droplets of water rolled down her sides. The old oaks surrounding her seemed all the more imposing in the dark. The thumping in her heart became a great drum. She feared the riotous sound would give away her position.

She at last spotted her prey resting in a small clearing, moonlight bearing down on its dark fur. Sar'tara crept closer. The boar's head was turned away from her. She could have easily landed an arrow in the creature's leg. But that would entail chasing it down and she wasn't certain of how much longer her borrowed time would last. She planned to kill with her first shot. Then would come the task of dragging the animal back to her tribe before the kresip high expired.

Sar'tara silently edged around the clearing, searching for her prey's throat. It was where the boar's hide was thinnest. Once in position, she drew back her bowstring once more. The slight rustling of leaves to her left gave her pause. Her gaze flickered towards the sound. A rock flew out from behind a thick bush and struck the boar's side. It wasn't meant to damage the creature, but rather alert it. Sar'tara's heart skipped a beat. Her panicked eyes snapped back and forth between her prey and the sound. She couldn't fathom who would possibly be stupid enough to do such a thing.

Someone hindering my hunt?

The Tricora, now angered, stared at the direction from where the rock had come, a slight red tint in its eyes leaving a thin trail as it moved its head. Another object flew out —this time a pebble. The boar charged in the general direction, head low and horn first. Sar'tara heard a howl from within the bushes as a beastly woman burst into the clearing and ran at the charging boar. She had her arms outstretched and caught the animal by its tusks before the sharp horn managed to impale her chest. They both stood in a stalemate, pushing against each other.

image [https://i.imgur.com/ILhut6S.jpg]

"No!" Sar'tara breathed as her reactive fingers stretched the bowstring further, causing the wood of her bow to creak. Another hunter. One of the Kreiva Vashiri. Their tribe boasted great physical strength and hunted without the use of weaponry. And each of them peaked near seven feet in height.

Sar'tara fired an arrow at her competitor, making sure that it would graze the woman's muscular thigh. The Kreivan flinched, causing the boar to win the pushing contest. She fell on her back, her thick black bun cushioning her head from a heavy impact. The boar trampled over her. It turned back around, preparing for a second charge. The woman sneered at the beast and turned in the direction from where the arrow had come.

Sar'tara nocked another. First to the kill had full rights of claiming the animal. She predicted the moment of the boar's rush and fired the arrow, expecting it to pierce the target's throat. The Kreivan lunged to the side of the animal and deflected the arrow with unbelievable reflexes. She winced in pain, clenching her teeth as the boar's sharp tusk grazed her side, leaving a pink flesh mark that soon pooled red. A daring move as was the norm with Kreiva Vashiri.

"Leave, Selharri!" the woman called. "This is my prey!"

Sar'tara stepped into the clearing. She knew it to be a mistake, but she had her own pride to defend. If she was to be a Guardian, fear was the last thing she dared to feel. "The kill belongs to the killer!" she declared. She sucked in air through her teeth. Sweat had gathered at her brow. She nocked her third arrow. Eight remaining shots.

The larger woman clenched her fists and flexed the thick muscles in her arm. Her attention was stolen by the boar as it charged her once more. She lowered her center of gravity, preparing to receive the charge. Her hands caught the animal by the tusks again. Sar'tara drew back, not wanting to let the chance go to waste. The Kreivan huntress roared as she twisted her body and forced the boar to change directions with sheer strength alone. Sar'tara winced, feet shuffling back as her prey's attention was now focused on her. She hastily loosed an arrow, string scraping her inner forearm, before leaping to the side. Her arrow found the boar's skull. Its thickest part. It was firmly stuck there beside the horn, but it wasn't nearly enough to kill.

At least the poison is in its blood now.

But would that work in her favor? Or would that slow the animal down enough for her competitor to smash its head before Sar'tara found the perfect shot?

She nocked her fourth arrow. Seven more. She barely caught sight of her competitor running towards her. She was tackled to the ground before she could react. The back of her head struck the ground hard. She blinked as a thick, bruised fist came down towards her face. She managed to wedge an arm in between.

Sar'tara gasped as her forearm cracked, either broken or fractured. The woman prepared to strike again. Sar'tara swallowed and shut her eyes as both her arms covered her face. She thrashed with her legs and hip, trying to push the heavier woman off. The Kreivan jumped away before striking as the boar was coming in for another charge. Sar'tara's eyelids snapped open. She rolled away, narrowly avoiding a sharp tusk. Fierce pain shot through her damaged arm. She bit her lip to stop herself from crying out, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes.

"Leave now, Selharri! Or I swear by our Mother, I will kill you!" the woman declared, ripping an arrow out of her thigh. It had pierced her when she had tackled Sar'tara.

The Kreivan woman was strong. Sar'tara coughed, slowly picking herself up. She had expected her opponent to have already been paralyzed by the poison from the first grazing arrow. She blinked away her tears and glared at her competitor, not having the breath to reply in kind, but displaying her fighting spirit in full. The Kreivan crouched low and prepared for another tackle. Sar'tara shuffled back, the memory of those cudgel like fists weighing down her normally quick reflexes.

The Kreivan ran forward but fell flat on her face before having taken three steps. The numbing poison had finally taken effect. Sar'tara let out a sigh of relief, heart pounding. Just for good measure, she fired an arrow at the woman's knee joint, poisoning her further while also disabling her. The woman cried out, more so in anger than in agony.

With her competitor out of the way, Sar'tara finally turned her attention to the boar. A worried frown settled on her face as she drew her sixth arrow. The skill of a huntress was not solely judged by the prey she caught, but also the manner in which she returned. Sar'tara would be expected to report the amount of shafts required to fell her prey. What started as nine shots too many was now four too many. No amount of excuses would cover for such a failure. The Selharr hunted with the bow and the bow alone. They prided themselves in supreme accuracy and six arrows for a single prey was a stain on not only the hunter's pride, but the entirety of the tribe as well.

Sar'tara deftly sidestepped the boar's lumbering charge, an arrow still protruding out of its forehead. She fired her sixth, reveling in the soft twang as the projectile left her fingers, and watched it puncture the creature's throat at just the perfect section. The windpipe had been pierced. The animal walked around slowly, wheezing as it did so. The red tint within its dark eyes dimmed to oblivion. Its eyelids drooped in fear. Sar'tara unsheathed one of her bone knives and waited for the boar to collapse for its final respite. She at last approached, still breathing heavily, though with a worn smile brought on by her eventual success.

"No! That's my kill!" a deep voice roared as Sar'tara's knife slit the boar's throat. Failed huntresses of the Kreiva Vashiri tribe, with their larger population, would have to wait over a year before their turn to hunt came again.

Forgive me sister, but my desire to see our beloved Mother again is greater than yours.

"Curse you Selharri! I will not forgive you for this!" the Kreivan continued.

Sar'tara ignored the paralyzed loser's pleas. Her heart still drummed against her chest despite the hunt having ended. The kresip flower high would soon begin to fade. Now came the grueling task of dragging the large boar back to her tribe before noon the following day. She didn't have time to wait for the animal to bleed out. She grabbed the boar by its tusks with a backhand grip and headed back down the direction from where she came.

The boar's blood stained the forest floor. Flowers were mowed and bent out of shape as Sar'tara dragged it along. The veins in her well trained thighs bulged with each laboring step she took. Her stomach growled again. Weakness returned to her muscles, making each step feel heavier than the last. Her borrowed time was coming to an end. The impending recoil of the flower's effects nagged at the back of her mind. She hoped it wouldn't be as bad as her elder sisters claimed it to be. Her damaged left forearm ached terribly.

Sar'tara grit her teeth and endured. She needed to show strength before her elder sisters to dissuade them from weighing her failures too heavily. Sar'tara, who was the pride of the Selharr for having hunted a bear at the age of fourteen, had wasted six arrows in the hunting of a boar. A competing huntress made for a poor excuse. She could have easily killed the boar prior to the Kreivan attacking it. But she had settled for immobilizing the Kreivan woman instead.

Why? Why did I do that?

Sar'tara knew why. But she didn't want to admit it. She was afraid. Afraid that the beastly woman would attack her for attaining the kill. So she had decided to poison her competitor before revealing herself. She tried not to think about it, though pushing the thought away entirely proved too difficult.

Sar'tara arrived at the river after what seemed like an eternity. She pulled the boar into the water, struggling to move it and herself any further. The added resistance of the flowing current was too much to bear. On the opposite end of the riverbank sat the naiad. Sar'tara wasn't certain if it was the same one. All nymphs were nameless and looked very much alike to each other. But she saw the edges of the naiad's mouth caked in fat. Fat of the plump hare she had been roasting. The nymph smiled at her. Her dark eyes sparkled like a pair of onyx gems under the light of the three moons in the sky.

"Do you need help? Does Sar'tara need help?"

"Oh, I don't know. Do I look like I need help?" she responded. Sarcasm was lost on nymphs. But Sar'tara was too annoyed to blatantly ask for help.

"You look like you need help. Do you need help?"

"For the love of Ny'Danis, yes! If I look like I need help then why not just help me?"

"Because maybe you don't need help? But you said yes. So I will help!"

The naiad placed her hands in the water. The direction of the current changed. A rising pressure grew from beneath Sar'tara. She was pushed to the surface along with her hunt before being moved across the river. She sucked in a breath, just as awed by the wondrous magic of nymphs as when she'd first seen it as a child. As wondrous as the nature bending powers of Ny'Danis. Though, not amusing enough for her to dally any further. She muttered a thanks and moved on, the naiad's humming voice fading with every passing second.

The sounds of crickets followed Sar'tara for a long while, eventually disappearing and being replaced by the chirping of birds. Amber blades of light pierced through the forest canopy. Sar'tara kept her eyes forward, seeking familiar territory. When younger, she had used stars to memorize her path back home. But having lived in the Papillion Forest all her life, she had learned to call occurrences such as large trees to isolated thickets to a patch of everflowers landmarks. She could tell that she was nearing the Selharr village. The pain in her left forearm helped to ignore the growing weight of her legs. Her insides began to sting as if being roasted. The recoil was beginning.

Sar'tara found herself coughing every once in a while. She could taste the iron of her blood at the back of her throat. Her dry coughs became wet ones. Her heartbeat began to slow. Her chest ached with every beat. It was a radiating pain that spread out in thin lines as if her very arteries had been torn. But she wasn't afraid of the pain. She wasn't afraid of dying. She was afraid of her failures. Afraid that all she had accomplished in the night wouldn’t be enough for the Forest Mother. Afraid that her elder sisters wouldn’t even permit an audience with Ny'Danis due to the wasted arrows.

Everflowers closed, their glowing lights gone and replaced by an abundance of verdant foliage eager to bask in the morning's radiance. Sar'tara's stomach growled again. Hunger, however, was the least of her worries. Blood mingled phlegm rolled down her chin and biting cold seeped into her limbs.

The Selharr village came into view. A sizeable clearing surrounded by skyward reaching elms. A village of just ten wooden huts with five people per. Five huts for girls fourteen and under and five for the adult women. Sar'tara's sisters cried out in joy when they spotted her and the beast she carried in tow. She managed a weak smile. It drained her of most of her remaining strength. She had made it.

Almost.

She laboured further, her legs feeling so very heavy. Her younger sisters stood on the outskirts of the village, cheering, encouraging. The older ones watched her with proud eyes. Few had doubtful eyes when noticing her terrible condition. They all just stood as Sar'tara got closer and closer to the village, each step slower than the last. The entire front of her neck was now painted with blood that had rolled down. Tears came out of her eyes. It made them sting terribly and her vision blurred. They were tears of red. She wanted to scream for help. But she no longer had the ability of doing so. None of her sisters rushed to her aid.

Sar'tara recalled the irony of her own words. She needed help. Looked every bit a dying person. But no one was helping her. Because this was her hunt. Her task. She had yet to complete it. She had yet to enter her village along with the boar she had dragged through the night. To help her would be to dishonor her. It would end whatever hopes she had of becoming a Guardian.

The picture of her village was fixated in her mind all morning. No matter how many steps she took, she didn't seem to get any closer. She had been shuffling forward instead of stepping. A fact she remained oblivious to. Most of her elder sisters had disappeared to do whatever tasks needed doing. The younger ones remained, their words of encouragement continuing.

Sar'tara was on the cusp of noon when she finally made it within the borders of the village. She wanted to collapse —needed to, in fact. She could hardly see anything. Could hardly smell or hear. Or feel. The only function she was aware of was that of her own thoughts. Even her heartbeats were too soft and shallow to make out. Regardless, she stood tall and proud. She pressed a firm fist against her breasts. Firm in her mind, but loose in reality.

Blood in her eyes eclipsed her vision. Sar'tara fainted in an upright position. It was not until a mellow breeze nudged her that she finally collapsed.