Sanguilia carefully picked her way through the dense growth, knowing there were numerous poisonous plants, thorns, and other unpleasant surprises hiding all around her. Water seeped through the cracks in the canopy of leaves high above her, countless droplets gathering in tiny streams that became small waterfalls that thundered down between the branches, feeding the earth far beneath. Where the lightning and thunder failed to permeate the dense network of leaves, the water compensated, adding its unique symphony to the woods.
It enthralled her, made everything seem so alive. She paused for a moment and closed her eyes, enjoying the streams falling down on her face, soaking her hair and seeping into her clothes. She felt how her body struggled to contain some heat, how it fought with the water for that precious warmth that a human needed to live, and how it failed. The corners of her lips twitched upwards and soon she found herself laughing out loud, arms stretched wide open. She twirled around until she noticed her broken arm disturbing her rhythm.
She tilted it to get a better look at it, a flash of annoyance marring her young visage. It didn't feel right. Everything was alive, full of fire, of energy, of action and movement! The bone sticking from her damaged limb broke that spell, disrupted the weave that nature had carefully woven on the world. She grabbed it with her other hand and with a sharp move she snapped it back in place. Unseen by sentient eyes, a rain of green sparks danced across her arm, twirling around the wound before diving into it as she held the bones in place. She waited patiently until the last sparks were gone before stretching her arm out. She turned it, bent it, twisted and flexed it. When she was satisfied with how smoothly it moved again, she switched her attention back to the spectacle nature was bringing to bear. The smile returned to her lips and laughter to her eyes as she danced deeper into the forest with all the elegance of a mystical nymph.
As she made her way through the dense undergrowth with more grace than even the most gifted ballet dancers, hardly a leaf that stirred at her passing. Her feet seemed to refuse to acknowledge the existence of roots, no matter how well hidden. Her arms twirled around her nimble frame as she treated trunks as old friends, dancing around them as if they were her partners in a esotoric dance, and all the while letting out that delightful, childlike laugh. A sound of innocence, of wonder for the world. It intertwined with the music of the rain and formed a beautiful duet that seemed at home in the dark forest. It was neither gentle, nor wild. Neither slow, nor quick. It simply merged perfectly with what was, a true harmony between the force of nature and a single woman, dancing as if this was her place, her home.
She vaulted through the air as her legs carried her up, landing on a low branch and smiled warmly at an owl and its owlets. It looked at her from the safety of its nest, tilting its head as if it were curious about the creature that just landed on its doorstep.
"Hello there," she sang.
The owl hooted softly in response. Reassured that the creature meant no harm, it shook the damp from its feathers and adjusted its position to cover the owlets more properly.
She enjoyed herself. Her breath came out in short pants, more due to her excitement than the dancing. With every step she had taken, she had distanced herself more from her life as a Guide, returning to the roots of her personality. She was free again, allowed to move as she wished, see as she wished, live as she wished!
"Hoot hoot," she whispered, before giggling.
The owl looked at her silently for a few moments, before giving a few hoots in return.
"That's right. You have a family to care for. Responsibilities. A home. Nice and warm. Meanwhile I'm wet and cold. Yet we both live and move, isn't that beautiful?"
She tilted her head and looked intensely at the owl, who returned her gaze with one its own. She slowly brought her hand up until it was in front of the nest. The owl kept looking straight into her eyes. She kept it there, holding it in place. Oh so carefully, she brought her hand forward until it rested on the owl's head. She scratched it, the smile on her face broadening. In a swift movement she brought her hand down, letting her fingers slide across the owl's feathers, down and down, until she reached the owlets. Without breaking eye contact, she plucked one from the protection of the nest and pulled it towards her. And still the owl didn't look away. It didn't move or make a sound.
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Finally she broke eye contact, and moved her gaze onto the owlet, who was chirping in her hands. It was obviously cold and didn't like her wet hands surrounding it.
"That's right," she repeated, "you and I are alike. Both cold, and wet. Without the protection of those who gave us life. Carried by currents that we cannot go against. And yet..."
She looked up again, into the owl's eyes. It rustled its feathers, trying to look bigger, frightened by what it saw in the woman's eyes. Sanguilia's hands closed and the chirping stopped. The owl hooted once, then fell silent.
"And yet we are nothing alike. I am not helpless and I am not adrift. I have both purpose and goal. And I shall achieve them, no matter what life may throw at me. Every day I become more than I was before. Nothing will stop me. Not until I have what I so desire." Her voice was cold ice and sharp like crystal, cutting through the rain and silencing the storm around her.
"And until then," she said, the darkness that had covered her dissipating, "I shall enjoy life as much as I can. Because that is what I have been taught."
She opened her hand and smiled at the little owlet sleeping soundly in her now warm hands, a handful of sparks jumping out of their confinement and assaulting drops of rain as they came down, going up in bits of steam as they collided. She hooted at the owl as she placed the owlet back in its nest, gave it another gentle scratch on the head and launched herself off the branch, resuming her trek through the woods.
She needed to plan. Would she return to her master and report on what she had encountered? That was a silly question. Of course she would. The real debate was whether to return in a straight line, or to move as the currents took her. She recalled the map of the regions in her mind. The Woods of Aralbas were massive, but the caravan hadn't gone in too deep yet, and the road they had intended to take was fairly short. If she moved swiftly she knew she could be out and into the city of Tinas in a day or two.
She could also take a detour to the hidden Kobold fort that was nearby, although chances were they wouldn't take kindly to a human. That would be interesting though. It had been a while since she met up with Kobolds and the creatures never failed to amuse her. They were quirky and loved playing pranks, something she had in common with them. Although she had to admit that they were equally likely to kill her on sight. That was a situation she'd rather avoid. Not that she didn't understand where they were coming from. Given how cults of the Lord had been spreading in the lands, with their fanatical desire to murder all who were not Men, she could even sympathise with that policy. Especially since those madmen had a strong base in Tinas and were rather forceful when it came to conversions and catching heretics.
She recapped her choices. Either she went to the fort and dealt with the Kobolds, who may or may not try to kill her on sight, or she went to Tinas, tried to explain why the caravan was not with her, and then would possibly have to deal with zealous fanatics trying to convert her or kill her on sight. Both seemed equally interesting, but she honestly believed that the Kobolds were likely going to be the more interesting and reasonable of the two, despite that she had many friends in the city who would vouch for her. Humans tended to favour coin more than the people they befriended, whereas Kobolds had a strict code of honour.
She sighed deeply. She missed Lanas, her home city, or the next best thing to it, given that she didn't actually know where she was born. People had honour there, courtesy of her master. It had been fun growing up there. Incredibly harsh, and she had been scared, cried often and took more beatings than she could be bothered to remember, but it was home. A good home. The home her master had made. Her master... What would he do? Would he go to the Kobolds, or go to Tinas?
She stopped mid-stride and laughed out loud as she realised how stupid that question was. She had to go to Tinas eventually, just to pick up better means of transportation. So naturally she would go to the Kobolds first. The idea that she might die didn't bother her. It was part of the circle of life. People lived, and people died. Some more easily than others, but all would pass the border eventually. The finality of life made it worth living in the first place after all.
Laughing at the irony of that last statement, she set off towards the hidden fort. Finally she was free again. Finally she was going home.
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