The Little Dark One

1

RUNE

Rune awoke violently from her sleep, sweat beading across her forehead. Her hair was plastered against her head, and her heart was racing. Visions of her dream flashed before her emerald eyes, which she knew would keep her from going back asleep. Her breath came fast, her chest rising and falling raggedly.
Her dream was strange, as if she was truly the one experiencing everything. Yet, the people in her dream seemed as if they were hundreds of years old. Strange women with unfamiliar black markings covering them. Men and women, both human and Fae, all dead. To her, it was like a view into the past, barely coherent. 

Rune sat up in her makeshift leaf bed, the dead leaves crunching under her weight. The cave she lived in kept her from the harsh environment of the Fae forest, the Aindalle. Although human, Rune was an orphan, found by a pair of Fae, close to 20 years ago now. They promised her safety, but not shelter. Arrogant and proud, the Fae were, and they didn't like humans much. Thought of them as noisy and consistently drunk. Yet, some of them had mercy on Rune, knowing she likely would have died a rather horrifying death if not for the couple who rescued her.

Standing, Rune smoothed her hair and adjusted her skirts, hoping to appear at least decent when she left the cave. Out in the open of the Aindalle, the hidden eyes of the Fae spies would instantly be upon her, and she didn't want to appear as a harlot, fresh from a man's bed. Barefoot, she made her way out of the cave, her mind already set upon finding water and checking the traps she'd laid out the day before. 
She hated knowing that the Fae would constantly be watching her, though there were places of the forest even the bravest of the race dared not stray. It was there she spent a lot of her time, spending the days learning about the plants and fauna. Some of the native plants, strange and not found anywhere else, were the most intriguing. Her particular favorite, a bluish purple flower called the Cloud Rose, was actually very poisonous if ingested. The thorns on it, about an inch and a half in length, secreted poison as well, so she always had to be careful when picking them, otherwise she would paralyzed for days. Still, they were beautiful.

On almost silent feet, Rune made her way through the underbrush, careful to avoid sharp rocks and broken twigs. A soft wind began to pick up, tugging at her rust-colored curls and kissing at her milky-white skin. A beautiful day, with the yellow-orange sun sending columns of light through the holes in the leafy canopy. It was truly ethereal.

She only walked for a mile or so before she came upon one of her traps, and in it, a rabbit. With quick fingers, she snapped the neck of the still struggling rodent. A sharp squeal, and then it went limp. Rune removed it from the trap and held it by its legs, going to check on the other snares, hoping they would prove to be just as bountiful. 

"Aye, Runie!" came a sharp voice, and Rune, startled, dropped the rabbit. 
She turned to see one of the young Fae women, a girl by the name of Kevae, jogging up to her. Although young by Fae standards, Kevae was already over a hundred years old. Beautiful and slim, she was, with golden hair and eyes, and skin as black as night. Kevae had always been kind to Rune, and had quickly become a close friend. 

"Kevae," Rune greeted with a smile as she bent over to pick up the dropped rodent. "What are you doing out here?" 

"Came to see you, of course, estrani," the girl replied, using the Fae word for 'friend'. Kevae offered her hand, and Rune handed her the rabbit. "I see you've already been lucky with your hunt."

Rune chuckled. "Aye. I was just going to check on my other traps," she said. "Did you want to join me?" She lifted her skirt as she stepped over a rotten log. Kevae followed suit, though her opaque purple dress swept across the wood silently as she moved delicately. 

Kevae trailed behind Rune, her own bare feet making no noise. Like most Fae, the earth seemed to obey her, moving ever so slightly out of the way. They were magical, these creatures. While immortal in age, they still could be struck down by a blade. All of them were warriors, too, trained to defend their kin at a moment's notice.