Blood and Bone

The Bone Forest

        In the gray light of early morning, the ghost trees stood tall and pale as their namesakes. It was at times like these that Mhera understood why travelers might think the Bone Forest haunted. Merchants who dared pass through told of the spirits who lived in those stark white trees, who whispered to the unwary visitor through the dark curtains of leaves, cursed them, and made them lose their way. But Mhera knew as all witches did that ghost trees grew here only because the earth was too cold and dry for any more becoming plant to grow, and that the dark curtains of leaves were useful hiding when waiting for prey, and that the whispers in the wood were only branches shivering in a light wind. Spirits needn't live in trees, and they had no reason to play tricks on addle-minded travelers of the Stone Cities.

That wasn't to say the forest didn't have its dangers.

Lying uncomfortably under a patch of thistles, Mhera peered up at the forest canopy, searching for Dyani. The taller girl had rejected the idea of hiding in the thorny undergrowth and chosen a higher perch instead. It took a moment, but Mhera finally spotted her crouched on the branches of one of the leafiest trees. With her pale cloak draped around her and the hood pulled over her sandy curls, she was almost impossible to spot against the white branches.

Now, Mhera realized Dyani had been right, as she usually was. She'd thought herself clever to take advantage of her small stature and hide in a bush, but she'd put no thought into how long she'd have to stay there- or how she would get out. The leather of her jerkin kept thorns from piercing her back, and her hair was too short to get ensnared by the tendrils, but already her uncovered arms were starting to sting. It would be a long wait.

An ant crawled onto her palm. By the time it had finished exploring her arm, Mhera's back was stiff and cramping, and her eyelids were drooping heavily. The forest was quiet, its silence broken only occasionally by the clicking of an insect or the lonely, far-off cry of an owl. At one point a mouse scurried by her elbow, searching to no avail for some nutrition in the ashy soil. Mhera played with the idea of grabbing it, but it was small and bony, and wouldn't make for much of a meal. She was just about to fall asleep when she noticed frantic motion from the tree where Dyani hid. Her eyes flew open and she tensed. Having gotten her attention, Dyani was now gesturing to Mhera's right. She looked.

Only a few strides away, the bear lifted its head. It stood facing away from her, snuffling at the air. Mhera's breath caught in her lungs. How had she not heard it approaching? Huge and hulking, with thick, black fur, it would be invaluable in the Asrani market. Mhera glanced again at her friend in the trees, and saw that Dyani had had the same idea. She was silently notching her bow. Mhera couldn't tell from her position what rune was carved on the girl's arrowhead, but knowing Dyani, it would be something for sleep. It was the best way to take down an animal so huge. A rune to increase pain might only fuel its anger.

Mhera didn't plan on letting Dyani finish the bear from the treetops with a few well-placed arrows. She'd fitted her spear only the day before, with a head of sharpened bear bone, ironically enough. The rune carved on the blade was her sixth attempt; she'd discarded many useless spearheads in the past few days. This time, she prayed. To which spirit, she wasn't sure. This time, it will be different. Mhera gripped the shaft of her spear until her knuckles were white.

Dyani drew her bow. A wolf cried in the distance, behind Mhera, and the bear turned to face her. She flinched in shock. Its chest fur was crusted red with blood from a wide gash on its neck, a wound too large and serious for the animal to still be standing. Mhera's fingers, previously locked on her spear, went lax. She gaped.

Then Dyani's arrow buried itself in the back of its head, behind an ear. The bear roared. It reared up on its hind legs. There was no more time to think. Mhera wormed forward on her elbows, tearing thorns from her hair and clothes, and charged forward, spear in hand. The bear loomed over her, snarling.