The woman sighed and sat back, her hands gently resting on the cold ground behind her as her legs dangled out into the open air. Below her stood a long sharp drop of fifty maybe sixty feet, but she didn't care for heights anymore. No one would tell her not to do it, scold or threaten her into her obedience. She stared at the small sliver of light the sun hinted at as it slowly hid in the horizon, the glare glazing gently over her green eyes, turning them a lustrous emerald, which shone like jewels in the dirt.
So beautiful. She thought as the sun slowly dropped below the tree line. Then she sighed, a small drop of sadness threatening to break free from her eyes. Only if I could share it with someone.
One time though, it was not like this. One time, there were many like her, all dancing and laughing and making merriment over the setting of the Sun. It was like this every month, that certain time where the ball of fire leaves and the full glow of their mother goddess rose in its place. But that changed, when the people disappeared. Well, not really disappeared, but left. A terrible winter had come, freezing the hearts and minds of the people. Many left to seek warmer, more calm weather. But those that stayed believed that their mother would provide for them. And they were right. None who stayed died, only the harshness of the winter threatened them that season. Now only one remains to live where their ancestors had lived, and celebrate what her ancestors had celebrated, in the light of the moon.
She smiled a sad smile and laid on her back, the cloth of her tunic providing a thin barrier between her smooth back and the cold dirt ground. Her water skin rests beside her and the cap she had sown holds fast, allowing no water to spill onto the ground.There she stared up at the sky, looking at the countless stars of the night sky. She thought that those who would be remembered in the myths and legends of her people would take to the night sky to be joined with her goddess, and hoped that she would join them someday.
She smiled and pointed at a small cluster of stars, in the northern part of the sky. It's twinkling beauty clearly visible in the natural sky.
"It's the Orpheon!" She said to herself, remembering the tale of the small boy who spoke to the warring dragons and begged them to spare his people's life, at the expense of his own. He told his children that bravery and sacrifice go hand in hand, and they both must be respected. He earned his place among the stars for being brave in the face of certain death, and making the sacrifice for his people. However, he was not to make the sacrifice, for the dragons were humbled by such bravery and deemed his village to be pure.
She smiled as she imagined a small boy stand against dragons. The surprise on their faces! She thought.
She turned to see the moon, it's soft glow, a pale comparison to the sun. There was a story about the moon, but she couldn't remember the details. Shaking her head in sadness, she stands up and walks along the dirt path, pounded down many times by her feet, the hard dirt providing little comfort for her soles. As she passes that familiar meadow she always passes at night time, she stops to look at calm nature in her sleep.
Between one of the trees however, a soft glow radiates between the branches. Curious, she steps closer until she is at the edge of the meadow, a step away from the forest. She hesitates, cautious about the forest. Her ancestors warned about the darkness that lurks within. Many of her people dared to walk in the shadows of the oaks as did those of great powers did many moons ago, but they never returned, never to be seen again. She turns her head back to the path, which led to the safety of familiarity and the comfort of the hut she made along with her clan mates, before they passed to the great dark.
She shakes those thoughts away. No, I must be brave. I must be strong. She tells herself as she takes her first step into the forest. No path was cut for her, and as she pushed her way through the dense underbrush, thorns and twigs cut through the cloth she had sown some months ago. Finally, for what seemed like hours, she pushed out onto a small beaten path cutting through the forest like a white dye through black. She stops and brushes the leaves and twigs lodged on her body and glance down the paths. Both sides, sadly looked the same, but that is not what she thought at the time.
"People." She whispers to herself, barely a whisper and more of a croak, her dry mouth wanting of water. Her hand, small cuts from where the thorns slit her palms, reaches for her water skin and brings it slowly to her lips as she sips quietly. She caps the skin and let's it rest on her hip. She looks to her left and to her right, contemplating which way to go. If I choose one way, I might have to go back. After several moments of quiet thoughts, she decides to wait until sunrise to continue her journey. She brushes away a small clearing off the beaten path, free of stone or twig. Setting a mat of leaves onto the ground, she lays down and drifts off. As she lays on the mat, her thoughts turn to the path, and all the wonderful things she might find. She imagined the many stories of the heroes of old, brave warriors and hunters who dared the dark forest, and brought back the riches of nature and the wild stories to entertain for generations.
Her thoughts drift to Atos, the young man renown for his wisdom. He entered the forest and traveled for moons. He brought back the art of magical stones, where runes could be carved to give them magical powers. He brought back the story of the white stag, whose said that its magical powers can heal those in death's grip. He brought her clan and many other clans to establish the first tribe, named MoonGarb. Long after he died , the tribe grew restless and broke down to clans once more. However, his example brought them out of the constant hostilities they had once faced towards each other and realized that they were all the same.
Many more stories like these ran through her head and as she drifted off to sleep, she smiled.
This is my story. My life. My Legend.
~The first segment I ever felt, was worthy of Wattpad. Most of my stuff is horrid, but I felt this one was special.~
YOU ARE READING
The Orkalis
Short StoryThis small collection of stories are here for me to practice and grow before I actually try to write a good story. I'm gonna be terrible and lacking any sort of skill in the beginning, so I would love to hear feedback and how I could improve.