The Last Shadow

Chapter 21- Rite Pt.2

Darkness settled over the forest. With the night came the eerie silence, broken only by the nocturnal chattering of woodland creatures, and the distant screams of Illyrian males being slaughtered. Whether they were killing each other, or were being picked off and feasted upon by the darker fae that lurked in the mountains, Eva couldn't be sure. All she cared about was that she was far away from it all. If the past few days of the Rite had taught Eva anything, it was that self-preservation was key.

With the light of day gone, the chill of the night began to take hold, and Eva wrapped her deerskin cape, crafted on her first day of the Rite, tighter around her shoulders. She nestled closer to the bark of the tree she was currently inhabiting. Even before the Rite, sleeping in the trees had always been her plan of action: it allowed her to hold a higher vantage point should she be attacked, and staying off the forest floor during nightfall was never a bad thing.

The Blood Rite had been going on for four days now; the current nightfall signalled the transition into the fifth day of the Rite.

As Eva had expected, when the Rite first began, the Illyrians had primarily split into two different 'groups': those who launched straight into fights, with bare fist or whatever they could find around them; and those who chose to first prioritise getting to grips with the land and gathering essential supplies.

Unsurprisingly, most of the former were now dead. Eva recalled how gruesome it had been at the time. Some didn't even wait to cross the treeline before they were lunging at each other. In a bloodlust frenzy, they had quite literally ripped each other apart. The sound of gargled screams filling the air so early on in the Rite had almost been enough to quell Eva's confidence. What's more, the stench of death from that first day seemed to latch itself onto Eva, and refused to dissipate, no matter how hard she had tried to scrub it away in a nearby stream.

Eva, of course, had been in the latter of the two groups. She certainly had scores to settle, and there was one Illyrian male in particular who's smug grin she'd gladly enjoy ripping off of his face, but her more rational side convinced her that it would be better to bide her time. If she could get away from the initial skirmish unscathed, the she'd stand a chance at finding supplies to craft into weaponry, or develop an understanding for the lay of the land.

Luckily, despite the obvious target on her back, it appeared that those who truly wished Eva the most harm had the same plan as her, and disappeared into the woodland without so much as giving Eva a second glance. As was to be expected, she'd had to swerve away from the occasional Illyrian male who attempted to make a lunge at her as she ran past, but her lithe figure and spritely nature meant she did so with ease, and was not long away from the initial bloodshed.

From there she'd set about getting her priorities straight:  locating a fresh water source, getting materials to craft a makeshift weapon, and avoiding the Illyrian males for as long as possible.

With years of experience in a woodland environment tucked under her belt, it didn't take long for Eva to locate a stream. If she'd had some sort of canister with her, she might have stocked up on water, but as she did not, and her plan was to follow the stream to its source anyway (and thus the mountain's peak, or at least near enough to it), she had felt satisfied with her first achievement in the Rite.

Then, after a brief exploration of the areas surrounding the stream, having made sure that there were no hidden Illyrian males in the area, Eva had set about crafting a weapon. Of course, in an ideal situation she would would be equipped with a sword, or perhaps a bow and a quiver of arrows, yet with her limited resources she had decided that crafting a spear should suffice.

First, she broke off an appropriately sized tree branch, both sufficient in length and width. Using a piece of flint she'd found in the stream, she cleaned the limb of the branch, making it an adequate handle for her to grip. Having decided that she should attach the same piece of flint  to the spear, creating a more lethal weapon, she carved a 'shelf' for the flint, so that it would attach more securely to the spear. Finally, using a vine-like plant she found curling round the bark of a tree, she secured the flint in place, wrapping it tightly and securely.