For a week she had tried to learn how to hunt with her bare hands and a knife. In contrast to some of her tribesmen, she didn’t believe in trapping. She didn’t like the idea of imprisoning the animal before the kill. The kill had to be clean and swift. The animal should die as a free being, allowed to bolt away or fight back. When using traps, such was not possible. The challenge was the whole point of hunting, with traps there were no challenge, no race.
She had worked hard to get the scent of the town off her clothing, gathering all sorts of earthy smells on her, the strongest of them being that of a willow. Eventually she even smeared herself with mud, attached fresh twigs into her clothing and tied moss around her boots and legs. Her hair grew quickly tangled, resembling eventually a bird’s nest. All in all, it started to get difficult to point out where the woman ended and where the forest began.
Read the forest. Read the wind. Stay below the wind. Smell like earth. Taste like earth. Move in the pace of the forest. Become the forest. Move silently, move slowly. Allow the songs of the forest to guide you. Fill yourself with it’s whispers. Forget yourself. Become the forest.
Vaalea spent hours and hours standing silent and observing the ways of the prey. It took her days to learn to move in such a way that she could get close enough them to hunt them by simply jumping toward the animal and slitting it’s throat open. The first time she managed to do it, she had lifted the hare in the air, the blood pouring from it’s neck all over her, while she screamed to the Spirit of Hunting, ”See! I don’t need a bow!”
After some days of intense training, she had started to hear the songs of the forest and the songs of the winds. When hunting with a bow she had studied the earth, the tracks of the beings, the smallest cracks in the smallest of things, the traces of changes, the distant calls of the animals - this was all normal to her. But now - the forest had started to tell her more complicated tales. She had conversations with trees, and even the wind replied to her questions with it’s many voices.
After spending a few weeks in the forest, training and managing to capture some hares, she came to the Prancing Pony to deliver them to the cook, accepting some coins in return. She met a few friends there, she had almost forgotten. It took her a moment to mentally return into their world, which was filled with the thick scent of musty indoor air, loud noises, laughing and vain discussions about matters that did not concern her. She talked with Connwear, only halfly there - half of her still lingering deep inside the forest. She glanced up at the ceiling of the Tavern, and despite all the noises and disturbing signals around her, she could still hear the song of the wind, as it moved the roof tiles. ”Winds are changing.”, she noted, as the wind suddenly changed it’s course. She had learnt to understand, that this usually meant something. She sensed a presence and glanced to her left. It was Mauri who stood there, frowning as usual. She ran to him and embraced him like a long lost brother. After seeing Mauri, she remembered rather quickly who she had been before she had become the forest. He was convinced she had fever, as in his opinion she acted even more strangely than usual. They talked for a while before Mauri once again grew irritated and left. She didn’t dare to follow him, it was his freedom to go. She didn’t believe in trapping men either.
Connwear and Vaalea left to spar to her previous camp, and after an intense training session on the usage of shield and axe, they both laid on the grass breathing heavily, staring up at the stars from between the branches of a nearby tree. He told her she was surprisingly talented in the arts of combat for an amateur. She told him that her father was the chief of the Wolves. Her bloodline was pure and she had seen her father and brother often sparring. The thought of home made her sad, but then - a sudden violent gust of wind broke the line of her thoughts. She eyed the branches that danced in the wind and tilted her head slowly toward one shoulder, appearing for a moment like any animal that attempts to understand something bigger than themselves. Suddenly everything slowed down and the branches drew an image afore her eyes. She climbed on her feet, ”I need to go.” In a hurry she gathered her things. Connwear followed her quickly and embraced her, telling her to take care of herself. She appeared stiff, clearly something on her mind, but it was not something she wanted to share. She told him that he should stay under the wind or otherwise the enemy might smell him. Then she simply vanished into the darkness.
