Lilau knotted the last supply pouch to her belt and stopped to listen. The cool darkness that pressed in on her made it impossible to see. All she could hear were the snores of Raval vibrating through the long hut. She wouldn’t miss that. But the noise seemed to have covered up the sounds of her late night activities. She felt along her waist, running through her inventory one more time. She wouldn’t get another chance to come back for anything forgotten. Satisfied with what her fingers and her memory told her, she stepped out into the sleeping village.
The moon was over half-full, an eye opening up to catch her in her escape. Keeping in the shadows, she dodged its light with the ease of something born to hide. The village was devoid of its usual sounds, its inhabitants asleep. Still, she did not want to chance upon a night wanderer. Zan’s murderous eyes invaded her thoughts, sending an electric shock through her core. Ducking as far as she could, she scanned the village, sure of the danger at her back. Insects flew on near silent wings while bats danced graceful arcs across the night air. She saw no human, Zan or otherwise.
With the release of a slow breath, she trained her eyes back towards the edge of the village and the start of the forest beyond. Freedom. Her steps drew her away from her old life, to her freedom from them and their freedom from her. Eagerness blossomed from within, causing her steps to quicken. She was tired of being afraid, of being a burden, a failure, unwanted. Stepping across the threshold into the forest proper, a gust of wind broke through the still night and brought with it the smells of wet earth and animals. The night-singers went quiet at the sudden turbulence. Still, she could hear a faint song carried on the breeze. Emboldened by the wordless tune, she broke into a trot, leaving her broken world behind for the promise of the new.
*****
Lilau fished a small, soft ball from one of her pouches, popped it in her mouth and bit down. It was chewy. It coated her tongue in a thick glaze of bittersweet syrup. Primarily made of sap from the Farak plant, she found the taste quite pleasant. Even better than the flavor, its syrup contained the essence of energy. It melted away her growing fatigue and replaced it with an itch to move and work. Good. She needed a lot of energy to do everything before the next sunfall. But first, she needed more ground between her and the village. She broke into a lengthy stride as her mind wandered in the predawn stillness.
At this point, she was too far away to go back to the long hut before everyone got up for the day, sealing her fate as a true outcast. At least it was her decision. Mara’s face formed in her mind, mouth set in a grim line as she told Lilau the wolves held no interest in her. It was normal to not be Bonded by her age, but if a whelp passed their eighteenth cycle without a Wolf, they were Marked as an outcast and forced from the village. To take in or help an outcast was taboo, making their brief existences solitary, miserable events. Most outcasts vanished within a year of their Marking. No one cared why or how.
She knew she could do better. Hadn’t she been more or less on her own from the start, anyway? Having no one else but herself to deal with seemed like quite the improvement, although she missed Raval and Mara a bit. They were never overly involved with her beyond the necessities of her care. Still, they were the closest thing to family she had. She shook her head, clearing the emotions from her mind as she sighted a stream burbling along. Negative thoughts would only weigh her down, making her vulnerable.
She moved up to the side of the stream and peered in. It was of decent size, a little more than twice her length across and deep enough for her to wade through. Tiny cascades rolled over smooth rocks, pulling in fresh water with a cheery song. She sniffed the air above it. A fresh scent washed over her, making her dry throat ache for a taste.
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She wouldn’t drink yet. Only after a proper inspection would she know if the water was drinkable, and she couldn’t do that until the sun rose. If the tingle across her skin and the utter silence of the woods was right, that wouldn’t be long. She slaked her thirst on the water bladder hanging against her thigh. It tasted downright stagnant compared to the aroma right next to her, but it would have to do for now.
Picking out a low-hanging bough nearby, she climbed up and settled in for a brief rest; her legs dangling like leather-wrapped snakes. She had picked the time of transition to stop on purpose. Now was when the night-dwellers were drifting to sleep, cozy in their homes, while the day-dwellers were being pulled out of their rest by the sun’s growing call. Both meant that she would have a bit of daylight to work without the risk of some woodland predator taking note. Until daylight, though, she had nothing to do but wait.
Tapping her feet against the rough bark of the trunk, she waited and waited, wishing that she had held off on taking the Farak syrup. A quick dose before the day’s work would have been nice. Sitting up in a tree with her limbs twitching and her mind running in meaningless circles like a puppy was something closer to torture. Once the sun’s rays finally touched the sky, the torture only grew worse. She sat up, drumming her fingers in agitation as the sky lightened up with an agonizing slowness. As the light increased enough for her to do a proper sweep of the area, she launched herself from her perch with a grin. She squished into the damp grass that lined the stream’s edges, the warmth of the rising sun causing rapid condensation as she started working her way around the water source.
Clusters of fish the length of her forearm darted away from her sight, their silver, white and brown scales shimmering. Excellent spot for food, but not so much for drinking. Like all animals, fish had to rid themselves of waste. Taking that waste into your own body was never a good idea. Not far up from the fishes’ cove, however, she found a stretch of water that raced through filtering pebbles, too shallow for much of anything to live in yet deep enough to gather water without disturbing the silt underneath. After refilling her water bladder, she continued her survey further out. Bent plants, footprints, and small paths told her of other animals which used the water source. That wasn’t surprising, but she noted with some relief that there seemed to be no signs of scuffles or attacks. That didn’t mean that predators never came by, but it gave her hope that all of those who did were more interested in a drink than in their next meal. Either way, she had no intention of pushing her luck by setting up shelter right here.
She moved outward, past the tree where she had awaited dawn towards thicker forest. Shifting away from any signs of animal passage, she moved deeper into the woods, weaving between, around, and over the myriad of bushes, thorny vines, trees and clusters of underbrush, making a mental map as she went. The forest came alive around her, its denizens waking up enough to burst from their nests into the light of a new day. Their combined noise was enough to rattle Lilau’s concentration, but she was glad for it. As long as the small creatures were at play, no dangerous ones were on the prowl nearby.
She shifted around another large tree, her eyes coming to rest on the perfect site for her shelter. The conifer was large and healthy. Its vast swath of leafy limbs spread out above her in layers, so thick no sunlight reached its broad, dark-brown trunk that showed signs of neither parasitic vines nor insect attack. It was practically a shelter on its own. All she needed were a few extra walls and a fire.
Hands curling in anticipation, she set off to work. With the skill of a squirrel, she darted up and down the trees within the vicinity of the one she had picked as her windbreak. Each ascension brought more boughs crashing to the ground, each descent added more to the growing pile of building materials. So quick and sure was her gathering that the sun had only moved two fingers above the horizon by the time she finished. Then came the actual work. Lilau took her stone axe in one hand and a bough in the other, grinding the thick end of the bough into the soil, where it stuck straight up like a long, leafy pole. A quick strike of her axe, and the willowy twigs sticking out of the bough sheared off with a dull thunk. Here she paced herself, knowing that even with her syrup-induced energy, building a shelter and a fire would take a lot of time. Rushing would only lead to mistakes, and mistakes could cost her life. Her planning would pay off the most on this first day. Her water bladder and pouch of dense, dried foodstuffs would sustain her while she built the first vital parts of her new life.