~*~ Chapter 1 ~*~
Dawn in Auberdine. Hunting for brown bear in the twilight forests. Mist rolls threw the buttress roots as beings seen and unseen, material and immaterial pass. Drifting this way and that. Subtle wafting of the cool and warm breezes that signal the ending of one night and the birth of a new day.
Silently, the cat prowls in the chill of early morning dew. Low on the ground, she avoids the light of day, lays her tummy on the earth and watches.
The bears are 12 strong if there is one. Beast hunting beast, the bears snatch and snarl at each other. The victor will consume a wild Moongraze Stag that died with the rise of the sun. A young Druid who sharpens her hunting skills alone will consume the loser. This morning she is going to bring home meat for her family. This morning she is proving she is worthy of further teaching of the feral arts.
Bears fight for food; bears fight for mates; bears fight for their young and bears fight for territory. Bears fight till first blood. The winner takes all… the wounded take off. He too will be eaten if he does not retreat and hide his blood from the hungry.
The smell of damp fur is thick in the clearing. The heat of so many bodies warms the ground. The Druid watches all. She will know each move and block, each sequence of attack. She will know how to kill her pray with minimal injury. The bear is big, his weight and strength his assets. The cat has speed and agility, moving lithe as a weasel to bleed her prey and finish it off quickly.
The air smells of blood. Tendrils seep the warm smell of life to a waiting predator. The roar of the victor shivers the ground. It topples the loser backward where it lands heavily on the mossy forest floor. The clearing shakes; other bears stop their fights and observe. If it doesn't move soon, it will be a second helping to the stag.
Heaving itself from the ground, it roars to life with one more try. Gathering its rage, he throws himself at the aggressor. They slam together with bone jarring force, teeth meeting flesh. Claws maul and swipe at the thickened neck of the opposite. They break away, heaving. This time the weaker one does not try again. To leave the clearing too exhausted to fend off coming attacks is inviting others to put him down for food.
The Druid follows. Her small, wide paws make no sound on the moss of the ground. The sun has climbed to a height enough to break up the shadows of the large roots and night-cooled foliage. She must take care to stay hidden or the light of day will reveal her. She must keep the sun to her back or the light of day will blind her.
The bear follows a path along the road. The Bear Path they call it, because the bear are the ones who made and maintain it. Parallel to the road, it allows easy access to stray animals from herded flocks and the occasional stray traveler.
Sniffing the ground, the bear follows an unknown path that meanders to and fro. At one point it lifts it's head and smells the air. The Druid waits on the ground once more and shifts her ears to find what the bear smells. The wind has sifted and she prays her scent travels along the ground and not the air.
Just one-second too late she realizes that a cross current has taken her scent right to the beasts nose. With a roar so loud it makes her flinch, it is on her before she can react. One huge paw lands on her ribs and rakes up to her shoulder. The claws rip their way threw her thickened hide. Bits of bloody blue fur cling to the massive paw. Hissing, she screams an answering challenge and throws herself at its throat. Though the wound to her ribs is bad, she knows that she has the skill to fix it. Not as good as the skills of the Druids who's path is to restore what is lost and wounded, but enough for her to survive such blows.
Dodging the next attack, she crouches low on four paws, long tail slinging left then right as she weaves from one side to the next getting into position for a good offensive. She slashes at its eyes, blinding it. In fury it roars and lashes out. It's injury feeds it's strength, adrenalin washing in to fuel the rage. As it attacks it gains strength that cause the weight it throws behind each blow to do more and more damage.
She hits its left shoulder, sending bloody drops to scatter on nearby trees. It counter attacks with a twin slam from one paw then the next. The force sends her off her feet and back into the bushes. Before it can see where she lands, she shifts into the shadows, hidden from view.
The bear stops. Heavy breathing puffs out in clouds. The sun is shining into the clearing where the Druid hides. The bear, in all its instinctive cunning, has maneuvered her around so the sun is at its back. It has the advantage now. She knows if she moves she will be seen but she can't hold the shadows around her for long. Shadows that don't move are as telling as those that do.
The bear raises it's head and sniffs the winds. It can't find her. Its energy high is lessening. The adrenaline is draining away. This is her hope. As it's back is turned the Druid releases the shadows from her hold.
They slip down her body, revealing her true form. A young Night Elf, 16 years old, is a new mortal of a race that was once immortal. Dark blue hair, braided in the Dwarven fation, is wild with leaves and moss and anything else that wishes to take hold. A delicate V shaped face indicative of her race seems to hold an expression of seriousness even if she were to jest. Large iridescent green eyes glow pale amber in the dark. Only other night elves will be able to see the color of the iris, all else will only see the glow. Long and slender ears, graceful, move as she swings her head from side to side listening for enemies. They hear everything. Her skin holds the shadows, the same shade of purple that her feline form's blue coat holds. Her face is unadorned of any tattoos. The Druids of her village, the wise trainers who know when the time comes for a young Druid to enter the Emerald Dream, have not seen her fit to advance in training. She will bring home the meat and prove she is ready to know more of her path, her future.
In an instant the shadows are back in place. She raises her hands, closes her eyes, and begins the incantation to heal the worse of the wounds. In an instant the world goes black! Stunned, it takes a second for the pain to register. In her mortal form and unprotected there is nothing between her earth-worn skin and the 6 inch claws of the angry bear. His charge, from the other side of the clearing, had stopped her heal and opened a wound from her shoulder down to her lower back.
Struggling against the pain and the weight of the animal slowing her attack, she shifts to become the graceful cat again. Instinct takes over and she dodges the next attack. Blood sprays the ground. Thick and almost black, the bear's blood congeals faster. Its wounds are clotting already. Having taken a serious blow while not protected by the thick hide of her alternate form, she attempts to land a killing blow to end the fight. Doing the unexpected, the bear parries the blow, knocking her back from the energy of her own physical attack used against her.
If it is luck that it managed to throw her own attack back at her or what, she shifts back into her mortal form and recites the spell her wildkin teacher had taught her. This spell appealed to the spirit of the earth to heed her call for help. Ignoring the maul that knocked her back flat to a tree, she finishes the spell. From the ground under the bear, the Earth Mother responds. The massive buttress roots of the tree lend themselves to the Druid's aid, flex upwards from the ground, shifting chucks of rock and clumps of earth as they do. They wrap themselves around the legs of the bear and pull him down. Fastened to the ground, there is no escape.
The Druid had no patience for spell-casting. She loved the feel of the earth under paw, of water sliding over her fins, and one day she would know the joy of soaring over the lands, unapproachable by the majority of those who would stray her. Resting now a bit, she breaths as the last of the haze that had slowed her attacks fades. Stepping away from the tree, she once again begins to recite the spell that would heal her severe wounds.
The roots break.
She never did have much patience to learn the next parts of spellwork: the part that would cause the roots to hold till she chose to let them go. Afraid now, she reaches out desperately for the help of Elune, the Great Goddess, who was the All Goddess, She of 10,000 names. In a moment, the strength of Elune descends from the heavens, filling her with power, thickening her skin against the bear's attacks. She prays for healing.
As she shifts into the vicious cat again, shrieking with anger and rolling with energy, she taps the energy the Goddess has given her and lashes out with wild precision. The blow lands, a cut that guts the bears throat. Blood sprays. It rains over the ground and the leaves and the cat for a second before it begins to clot.
The Druid stalks low, moving into the shadows behind a tree. The bear cannot see her as it dies. It cannot retaliate. She smiles as its throaty warble signals the end of its life. It bleeds, hot blood hits the ground and steams. Her body shivers in anticipation. She has done it! She killed the bear on her own and she will bring home food and skins and bones and her family will know abundance!
The bear is close to death but still holding on, perhaps thinking that she has left and it will heal. Frustrated now she comes out from behind the tree. She has the mental energy to match her body… little left. It has been short but trying and she wishes to rest before she has to drag the body home. Her body and mind are bruised and both need rest.
Reaching up into the heavens, towards the descending quarter moon, she grasps Elun's Glory and pulls. Down the fire of the moon rushes, striking the bear hard. Its whole being jumps, fur ignites with the hum of energy, crackling silver fire. In a pitiful display, the bear lets out a mournful mewling and collapses to the earth. The fire subsides.
It is dead.