fallenupright
Geekier than thou
- Joined
- May 31, 2006
- Posts
- 3,208
(closed for MasterYosh)
It was early morning and the sun just risen, giving the forest a glittering quality as patches of pale sunlight danced along with the leaves in the morning breeze. The wood was not quiet, though it was early... for animals do not follow the schedule of humans, most of which were surely safe asleep in their beds as of yet. Bee's buzzed, bringing life to their hives and to the wildflowers that grew in small clearings and under the odd tree that allowed them enough sunlight to burst into colour and beauty. Birds sang melodies that the human ear could appreciate, but not understand, going about the business of making music together, bringing a sort of underlying harmony behind the bustle of the woods. A human wouldn't notice all that went on in the early morning hours in the woods, but she was no human. She took notice of everything. From the fox yet sleeping in her den, to the beetles crawling beneath logs, and the deer eating the dew soaked grass in the clearing.
She knew too, of the wolf that stalked the fawn, wandered to far from his mother. And of the rabbit, caught in the talons of a hawk. Such was the way of life, to end in violence. It was natural, just and balanced. All was as it should be in the woods. She made sure of that. Long ago, humans had come to the woods with their torches and axes, cutting trees, and burning, to make way for their houses and fields. Long ago, the very land had turned against them, the trees, the animals... and her. She had been terrible in her wrath, in her grief at the friends she had lost to the fires and the bows of men. However, that was a long time ago.
Today, men steered clear of this woods, whispering of the ghosts of the wood, spirits who did not let men pass through, nor take game here. Few who found their way in... came out, and those who did were often... different than they left. The few who found their way back home spoke of a woman, if you could call hetoot trifle with, as she was powerful, and old. And yet, here she was, sitting upon a log. She did not look old, nor did she look entirely inhuman. Though a hundred years to her was just a drop in the bucket of time, her age appeared to be barely an adult, with soft young skin and bright blue eyes. Her hair fell in waves of golden brown near to her hips, and she wore a dress that was the colour of the trees, embroidered in green, with a pattern like that of a vine. Her ears were pointed and longer than the average human, and short, curvy horns grew from her forehead, black and silver in colour.
Alone, for so long, lacking in new amusements. It had been perhaps a century so since she saw anything but her creatures of the forest. It was because of this she almost didn't note the whistling. It was not the twittering of the birds she was used to, but a low, merry sound that the humans favoured, with a tune she had never heard. The music of the woods wasn't so quick to change as the music of the humans. Birds made up new songs often, but they sang them to all, and taught them, and after a time, there was no really new songs to be sung. New to the bird, perhaps, and original in that way, but not a song that had never been sung.
But this tune, it was new to her ears. The footsteps, when the song caught her attention and she stopped to listen... were soft, nervous perhaps, or cautious. Human footsteps, noisy, always. Even when they tried to be quiet... they crunched on the leaves, cracked twigs and caused animals to flee in terror at the commotion of this two legged beast traveling through their woods. Other animals were less afraid, peering at him with wide eyes. The first human they had ever seen. She stood, moving silently to a tree several hundred yards ahead of him. The tree bent, accommodating itself to her presence and will, giving her covering such that though she could see him quite well, he could not see her. She giggled softly, though to human ears it was little more than the wind, and studied the approaching human...
It was early morning and the sun just risen, giving the forest a glittering quality as patches of pale sunlight danced along with the leaves in the morning breeze. The wood was not quiet, though it was early... for animals do not follow the schedule of humans, most of which were surely safe asleep in their beds as of yet. Bee's buzzed, bringing life to their hives and to the wildflowers that grew in small clearings and under the odd tree that allowed them enough sunlight to burst into colour and beauty. Birds sang melodies that the human ear could appreciate, but not understand, going about the business of making music together, bringing a sort of underlying harmony behind the bustle of the woods. A human wouldn't notice all that went on in the early morning hours in the woods, but she was no human. She took notice of everything. From the fox yet sleeping in her den, to the beetles crawling beneath logs, and the deer eating the dew soaked grass in the clearing.
She knew too, of the wolf that stalked the fawn, wandered to far from his mother. And of the rabbit, caught in the talons of a hawk. Such was the way of life, to end in violence. It was natural, just and balanced. All was as it should be in the woods. She made sure of that. Long ago, humans had come to the woods with their torches and axes, cutting trees, and burning, to make way for their houses and fields. Long ago, the very land had turned against them, the trees, the animals... and her. She had been terrible in her wrath, in her grief at the friends she had lost to the fires and the bows of men. However, that was a long time ago.
Today, men steered clear of this woods, whispering of the ghosts of the wood, spirits who did not let men pass through, nor take game here. Few who found their way in... came out, and those who did were often... different than they left. The few who found their way back home spoke of a woman, if you could call hetoot trifle with, as she was powerful, and old. And yet, here she was, sitting upon a log. She did not look old, nor did she look entirely inhuman. Though a hundred years to her was just a drop in the bucket of time, her age appeared to be barely an adult, with soft young skin and bright blue eyes. Her hair fell in waves of golden brown near to her hips, and she wore a dress that was the colour of the trees, embroidered in green, with a pattern like that of a vine. Her ears were pointed and longer than the average human, and short, curvy horns grew from her forehead, black and silver in colour.
Alone, for so long, lacking in new amusements. It had been perhaps a century so since she saw anything but her creatures of the forest. It was because of this she almost didn't note the whistling. It was not the twittering of the birds she was used to, but a low, merry sound that the humans favoured, with a tune she had never heard. The music of the woods wasn't so quick to change as the music of the humans. Birds made up new songs often, but they sang them to all, and taught them, and after a time, there was no really new songs to be sung. New to the bird, perhaps, and original in that way, but not a song that had never been sung.
But this tune, it was new to her ears. The footsteps, when the song caught her attention and she stopped to listen... were soft, nervous perhaps, or cautious. Human footsteps, noisy, always. Even when they tried to be quiet... they crunched on the leaves, cracked twigs and caused animals to flee in terror at the commotion of this two legged beast traveling through their woods. Other animals were less afraid, peering at him with wide eyes. The first human they had ever seen. She stood, moving silently to a tree several hundred yards ahead of him. The tree bent, accommodating itself to her presence and will, giving her covering such that though she could see him quite well, he could not see her. She giggled softly, though to human ears it was little more than the wind, and studied the approaching human...
