Fury in Sundor

Chapter 8

Twelve total hours had passed. Eon had long woven a small bag out of coconut palm leaves. The enchanted forests fostered a numerous amount of trees that likely shouldn't have been there. The beings that return care and energy towards the grounds of the forest are likely the reason that such "unrealistic" things may occur.
He used this small satchel to store the berries and snacks he found further down the road. He'd been ambushed by a Reave- the term used for a pack of pixies- who tore his shirt halfway down the back, all the way to where his corset began. This revealed the majority of his wings. They giggled and chirped offhanded comments the entire time he attempted to fend himself. The Reave are often considered foxes of the forest. Ruthless and careless.
Quite aggrieved and thrown off by the sly humor of the pixies, Eon used his knife to sharpen a small twig he snapped off of a tree. Which he then stuck through his fabric and used as a pin to keep his shirt closed from the back. He succeeded for the most part. However, feathers still stick out. The parasitic bugs that reside under every rock and behind each burrow which could feast on his exposed skin are countless. Each one carried a unique disease. Each range from long term chicken pox to one's skin melting off of the bone itself. A horrid, incurable disease. Not even amongst the worst of the categories either.
Although Eon had now eaten his fill, there was one thing that wouldn't stop pestering him. His eye was no longer pink. However, his neck rash had slowly worsened. Eon fought the urge to scratch it every so often. It truly slowed his progress. Having to take breaks every so often was precious time being wasted. Eventually, having lost his temper, he decided to seek medicinal ointment from the mythical beings that reside deep in the forest.
Eon put away the white willow bark he'd found while climbing a tree. It's common knowledge to many that are familiar with the forest that they blocked pain receptors and came with healing benefits. The bark was dangerous to eat in large portions, but Eon took his chances. There wasn't much else he could use at his fingertips.
Looks like it's time to go drydad hunting. He thought somberly.
It was said that drydads were often clever creatures. Fending and healing even as they lacked social hierarchy. Nursing their communities with their reserved songs and prayers of healing. Eon recalled the stories and books his aunt lended him during his time isolated.
She lended them because Irine never knew Eon went pickpocketing or stealing outside. She often assumed he only fed on what she brought him every week and was very bored when he wasn't playing with the guitar he kept in his room. Eon had no plans of exposing himself to her either. He usually went out of his way to cause trouble only to either entertain himself or keep fit when exercising indoors wasn't enough. He set up challenges for himself to see how well he could escape or how much he could steal. Whenever he came short, he felt disappointed in himself. It always meant he wasn't ready to live independently. He always felt ready to flock his nest, but he never was.
Eon sighed deeply and jumped down the six or so feet he'd climbed up, landing soundly on his feet, crunching and snapping the fallen twigs of upcoming autumn under him. The trail he'd followed earlier faded away and into a deep slope that led into a dark cove in which Eon assumed was a bat cave. Now, the sun began to rise. He could only tell his direction was with an old fashioned technique. To follow where the sun rises, one must tell what direction the shadows lean towards. Eon rummaged the ground for a short but thick stick. After some searching, he pulled a rough stick covered in small insects and beetles. He winced at the scurrying beings and shook the stick off quickly, as if he burned his hand. Eon hoisted himself up with a grunt and stuck it in a softer part of the grassy ground. The shadow of the dead stick cast to the left, so he began walking to the right.
To spot a drydad, you have to watch each and every tree very closely. Dryads live in trees. They're mythical beings, immediate children of nature. The tree they're from can be considered their mother and original home. Their physical bodies when separated from the tree are also made of bark and wood. The type of wood differed from said birth tree. However, drydad trees have a significant difference.
Everyone knows that trees breathe through their leaves, but drydad trees pull air and exhale from one opening known as their mouth. If one were to wait beside a grove of large trees, the land surrounding would slowly become foggy from the breaths of a drydad. Although, the chances of the grove even having one weren't all that likely.
After hiking for what seemed to have been 45 minutes- although really, he began to lose track of time in this otherworldly nature- Eon found himself in a patch of lively green grass, surrounded by a suspiciously organized circle of trees. He analyzed each and every one of their bark and branches closely.
Three cottonwoods, One hackberry, one wisteria, and two willow trees... no- one willow tree.
Eon settled his thoughts quickly. Surely this grove must have one drydad. Its sunlight abundance and thriving ecosystem is practically made for life. Eon sighed deeply and collapsed on the sunny grass.
The smell of dew and dirt warmy caressed his senses. Every inhale nourished beauty in his lungs. Crickets and rustling trees whispered gently in his ears as his eyelids slowly retreated. His white eyelashes rested gently on his pale skin. A couple of butterflies swarmed towards his bag, attracted to the dew of the flowers he'd picked in thought of his auntie. It felt rewarding to be able to lay down after restless hours. Eons agitated mind was slowly put to sleep.