Marilia and the forests.

Which one?

Marilia. A city that sat on top of green hills that overlooked the forests. There were few who lived there. Only a special breed. Those like me. We all had long hair and our eyes had a glassy look to them, making it look as if we had double the irises. Some would say it looked as if we had four eyes. Our skin was covered in freckles, and we were born with tattoos. Each tattoo was different, and resembled something within. We wear long green or red robes, and have long legs but small, hardly covered feat. The sky looks down on us. There are hardly any clouds here.

   Marilia was like a Utopia to most. Those who were onlookers envied us. They don't know why this different breed of the human race had to live in such an isolated place. With every perfection there's a catch. With every favor a twist. With every good story a turn.

   Some of us Marilians were hunters. Only the brave hunted in the forests below. Down there were different breeds of humans. Tall, bulky men with shining spears and helmets of Gold or Silver. Woman carried their children around their necks using silk cloths. The kids ran naked, bodies clean and healthy, playing tag in the tree houses. They were all covered and sheltered, one big rich family. They envied our territory, our wealth and knowledge. We are the hunted.

   I am the daughter of the chief of the city. My father sits on a giant stone chair with vines of grapes and streamers surrounding him. He gives out orders, and deems which men are capable of hunting, and which ones need to stay within the protection of the city. Down in the forests the other breeds throw out those who aren't strong enough. They refuse to allow the weak or different into their group. If a child is too heavy to be lifted, or too thin to properly hunt, they are often killed by the chief. Daughter's are often turned to slaves if they aren't normal. Woman are thrown out of their homes if they are infertile.

  The difference between us Marilians and the people of the forests is we are already weak. We do not have Gold or Silver. We do not have extra supplies to clean. Our chief-my father-does not sit on a slab of bronze where he has everything he needs at the end of his finger tips. My father is not bulky and muscular. He is thin do to lack of recourses. He cares about his people being fed first. He would give his wine to an ill child who needed refreshment before ever drinking it himself. These things seem wrong, right? Yet those down below hunt us in order to take our supplies. Take our stone and food. All they do is take, and yet the Marilians are the ones who would never let one of their own fall. We'd do anything to save a starving child, rather they were of us or not. My father often bought daughters from the forests who had been turned to slaves, before setting them free and letting them stay by his side. I've had many foster sisters in my life time, and never once did I complain that there was less food to go around in the home. That was how I was raised.

   "Father! I want to go hunting with the men." I say to my father after stepping up to his chair. The man looked at me surprised, before his eyebrows knitted together. I bowed my head bashfully.

  I'd wanted to be a hunter for a while now. I know I am a female and should be repairing armor and weapons or sowing cloths for the winters. I'm the daughter of the chief and shouldn't risk my life or else father wouldn't have an heir to the city. Ever since I was little I wanted to hunt. I knew I had the strength to. I wasn't well tamed and dressed like the other woman of Marilia. I loved to swordfight, and preferred a robe and leggings over red or green dresses. I wanted to do more for my future followers. I wanted to fight the hunters we had been falling to. Fight the forest people hunting us.

   "Daughter...you know I can not allow this. Not just as the chief, but as your father. I could never lose you. I need an heir and I need my family." My father speaks softly, using his fragile, old hand to lift my chin. I'm his only biological child. My mother died long ago. Maybe that's why I'm more of a fighter. I never had the comforting touch of a female role model.