August Sarkins woke as she did every other day, sprawled on the cold wooden floor of her families cottage. Winter time in Sennewick was always the hardest for it's citizens. The cold took more than any other illness could ever desire. Last year it took with it her father.
Birds chirping morning calls echoed their way into the empty cabin, prompting August to prop herself up. Curling the sheepsfur blanket around her she let herself take in the world around her. She wasn't yet used to being so alone.
After her father died, August's mother made the unfortunate decision to disappear unannounced. The neighbors whispered it was madness that got to her, that the idea of living without her lover was too much to bear. They didn't know the truth. Only August knew.
The cabin was small with only one inhabitant and even smaller when there was three, yet today it felt vast and empty. Across from the corner where August slept was the kitchen, or what was used as a kitchen. One small water basin, a gas burner and two wooden cabinets- one with food and one with things needed to hold and cook it. The final thing lurking in the shadows was a small stone fireplace built into the back wall. The outhouses and anything else she needed, however, were unfortunately found outside of her four walls. And while that wasn't too much of an issue for any other wood dwelling creature, leaving her house was nothing more than a risk these days.
August frowned as she realized her fire from the evening before had died down to nothing more but a smoldering pile. She sighed, pushing herself up to her feet, grunting softly as she felt her limbs gently crack with the transition. Quickly she reached for the heavy fur coat hanging by the door and wiggled it onto her small frame. The coat had originally been her fathers, but due to the lack of ownership August had taken it upon herself to take it into her possession. Finally she ran her hand up her thigh checking for a small steel dagger that she always kept on her. Now that did belong to her- an early birthday present from her father when she had turned 12. Nearly a decade later and she still kept it close at all times.
Pushing the large wooden door open, August felt the subtle smell of smoke enter her lungs. The morning time was when most of the unattended fires had managed to go out, like hers, causing the stale ashy smell to waft in the air for the first few hours of the day. Some would say it was a nuisance, but to August it smelled like home. She closed the door behind her, letting her fingertips brush the edges of it just for a moment. A faint glow accompanied the subtle energy August felt leaving her body, sealing the home. It was quick. Quick enough that no one would ever see or question any of it, and August needed it that way. She spun on her heel and headed on her way.
13 cabins laced their way through the small woodland town of Sennewick. These were accompanied by 2 shops, a "some sort of food" market and a small "everything you ever need or didn't" shop- or at least that's how August's father would describe them to her. Directly across from the shops was a small communal fire pit that laid mostly untouched as to not attract the unwanted and two outhouses, one on either side of the compound.
This morning, however, August bypassed it all on the hunt for some more fire wood. Despite living in the midst of the forest, it could often be difficult to come by. They couldn't just drop a tree any time they needed, in fact with the raids happening more and more frequently there was no way they would ever risk drawing more attention to themselves. She wove her way through tree trunks and over their thick roots, having wandered through this forest her entire life it felt like she could navigate it with her eyes closed sometimes.
Finally, she came across a small clearing littered with enough fallen branches to keep her warm for a month. Quickly August began grabbing all that her arms could handle and began to head back to her cabin.
It was then that she heard the scream.
Startled, she turned towards the source too fast, letting the wood topple from her arms. As if in slow motion August felt her hand shoot out and release the energy on it's own, holding the wood in mid air around her. She couldn't risk making a sound, especially with trouble on the horizon.
She let the wood lower soundlessly to the forest floor before unsheathing her dagger and against all better judgement, taking off in the direction of the scream.
