The Secret World of Healers

Treetops

The old oak planks groan out from under me as I pull back my bow. The giant eyes of a doe meet mine as she nervously glances for the source of breakage in the still air. Her eyelashes flutter and in a flash she's sprinting away- along with my hope of a kill before dawn. Sighing, I gather my things. The cool leather of my quiver eases my frustrations of loosing the meal, I slipped up, a first in a long time.
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I place my bow and quiver across my back and tighten the golden buckles on my boots.
My heels dig into the Earth's solid ground, still damp from yesterday's rain. I thumb the button around my collar as I walk along the leaf pathway that the trees provide. Twisting my neck I check behind me, to my left, right, I feel uneasy. The ground is not safe for me. I walk at a brisk pace, the arrows rattling as they hit one another in my quiver.
I'm close.
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I slow my pace and duck into a bush. I sit still and ease my breathing as best as I can- despite my pounding heart rate. For several minutes I strain my eyes and ears for any sign of life. The thud of my heart eases into a steady, strong beat. Rising from the bush, I walk over to the oak.
I don't pause today.
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Normally I stand for a minute and admire the sunlight gleaming onto the sturdy oak branches. I admire the way the light weaves between each leaf. I admire the bark that provides a home for ants, squirrels, birds, and my people. Not today, it's to risky. I swiftly climb the oak, as I have hundreds of times. Most people wouldn't be able to climb a tree like this- my village is not most people. Early on, me and everyone in my village learns to climb. I faintly remember the first time I ever scaled The Great Oak- at 6 years old, I remember the pride in completing the important task before some 10 year olds.
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The groves of the bark fit comfortably and familiarly in my palms. I reach the 50 foot(15 meter) checkpoint. I plant my feet into the trunk of the tree and pull my way up onto the platform. It's mesmerizing. I'm one of the few archers and youngest archer to be allowed on the forest floor. Looking above while hunting, you would never ever guess a bustling village sits in the protection of the tress. The oak trees in our region grow a average of 50-80 feet (15-24 meters) tall. A good ways up to protect us from the dangers below.
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"Sapphire."
I pull my attention from my return back to the treetops, to my sister. I lower my hood, now safe from the grounds.
"What," I say, suddenly back to reality.
Her violet eyes gaze back at me, a hint of annoyance in her look.
"I see you have no kill. No matter, you're lucky you made it back when you did, they're almost here."
"Tiffany, I totally lost track of time, hurry!"
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Authors note
Hello everyone! Thanks to everyone for taking the time to read my first ever story. I will be adding updates soon, so stay tuned!
Feel free to leave theory's, requests, suggestions, etc. in the comments. I really appreciate it, and interested in hearing what you think!
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