Bare feet stepped quietly over nourished grass, bright green and full of life just like the rest of the forest. A singular patch that was embraced by an entire collective and plethora of trees with handsome canopies and sunlight filtering through creating rays on all of the creatures that existed beneath impressive boughs. The entire forest looked that way now and it had taken so many years for it to achieve that. Where once had been a path of dead and barren ground, it had been overtaken, reclaimed by the earth and all of its most natural delights.
Before, she had felt protective of it. Now, she felt pride as she eyed it from the way she was crouched down.
Tilidri Whisperglen had spent her life falling in love with the forest. In the same breath that she had devoted herself to that concept, she dedicated the same life coursing through her veins to its protection. To her, there was no place more she wanted to be than the autumn swirl of colours, of reds like fire, vibrant oranges, and spun golds. It was picturesque in every manner of the word and each time she was in it, she felt her adoration, her love, her adamant fealty for it grow and swell to a size of excess.
Her sisters, Mila and Velelina, understood it. As did their parents. The moment Tilidri had begun to follow those serving within the Farstriders, it seemed almost inevitable that she would be fated to join their ranks one day. And when she did, it was something she'd never looked back from. Now, she was hundreds of years older, hundreds of years wiser, and hundreds more years enamoured with that which it seemed her very being was centred around.
Beneath her feet, she felt the cool earth, keeping her level as she moved with the meticulous care of a lynx. Low to the ground and stalking. A simple bow fashioned of a wood that was just as simple, well carved and hand-painted details that Tilidri had done herself upon her induction, of greens and golds, like so much of the apparel she sometimes wore in soft leathers that made nary a sound when she moved on her daily hunts.
At her hip, a small carving knife, for peeling hide from flesh and meat, with the strength even to shape bone. She wasn't planning to use it today. The game of Eversong wasn't what she sought. No. Her quarry would be larger. Significant. A true test, though she had cleared so many already to be here in the now.
Dark hair, so dark that it was like tresses of a midnight river, a sultry purple that was nearly black scattered down her back. Streaks of sunlight fell across olive skin like tattered brands, contrasting with the ebony tattoos that were scrawled across her. She was woman. She was animal. She was wind. She was every arrow she had ever loosed from her bow. She was her very bow herself.
Easy.
She reminded herself as she studied her surroundings, though she hardly needed it. She could have hunted in her sleep. Every movement was a memory that lingered in muscle that had endured rigorous training. Tilidri could remember in younger years before she had discovered herself truly how easily she ached when she overextended. Now, she barely felt it. But in the same breath, she understood her limitations. She only ever pressed herself the smallest bit past comfort. How else could she ever continue to improve?
That had been why she took up dance, as well. Not the fancy masquerade and socialite sort of dancing. No. She danced with arcane and flame, with knives and whips. She danced with danger, some might have said, but it was only in some of that danger that she felt she thrived so very well. In the same way that her bow gave her life, she sought to spread that life through every movement of her body, through every extended line, through every manoeuvre that called for as much grace and stability as it did discipline and control.
Her feet thanked her for it now.
Faster and faster, she moved. Until trees and flowers and bushes became blurs and indistinguishable traits, marked on the canvas of the world, a splash of colour and sensation. And then she abruptly stopped, as if she simply knew she needed to. As if that was the very space in time and place she was meant to be. Tilidri slid across the ground and with both eyes of orchid and lavender open and staring down the sight of her bow, she loosed the patiently nocked arrow. It whizzed through the air, a high-pitched whisper of wind until it struck its target—
The very pinning of a satchel of coin, which rattled when it was pinioned into the trunk of a tree.
"You never fail to impress."
His voice was low and touched by age, a hint of rasp and gravel. As Tilidri straightened herself up, she steadied herself before she approached him. Her father towered over her, but Tilidri had always been small, which worked to her benefit. She didn't even reach his shoulders and the only time she'd ever known she had was when he'd lifted her into his arms in her youngest years. Carefully looping her bow over her shoulder, she smiled, as proud of herself as she was of the forest for overcoming all of the adversity that it had.
"You were careless," she told him. "I was able to find your trail quickly."
Her father laughed heartily, his daughter's words sharp, but not untrue. "Ah. In which my age betrays me and youth begins to surpass it." He smiled in turn, carefully plucking arrow by the shaft from where it had hit its mark. Satchel of coin dropped into his other palm and he tossed it to Tilidri. "Here. You've earned it."
As she caught it, her smile grew. She'd probably use it for a new dancing outfit. Something midriff-baring and loose on the legs, she thought. In shades of burnt gold, perhaps.
"So I did." Well-earned, at that. Her training hadn't been for nothing. Falling into step at his side, she stretched her arms above her head, trying to loosen some of the muscles that had tightened in her pursuit of him. "If you're not tired of seeing me, feel like having me take a spot at your dinner table for the night?"
She hadn't lived with her family for quite some time. They'd always offered her a place to stay, but she'd been determined to make a life for herself. She made coin by working with her own two hands. She defined her days by her own hard work. Besides, she still had a sister living with them.
"You're always welcome. You and Vel both. Your mother would love to see you. Bring your sister along with you."
Playfully, Tilidri brought up two fingers in a faux salute to him, knowing he'd either find it amusing or he'd humorously scoff. Both would be a win to her, as far as she was concerned. "Heard and heard."
It'd be the perfect way to have a night after a perfect hunt. She'd walk part of the way with him until their paths diverged. If Velelina was home when she got there, she'd drag her along. And if she wasn't, then she'd affectionately tease her about all she'd miss.
As she eyed her satchel of coin, undoubtedly a fair share amount of gold, she hummed. She'd share some of it with her sister, too. What good were man's riches if she didn't share them?
@daily-writing-challenge
( This is for @arcanestrider, but her tumblr isn't actually setup yet. )
