The merry crackling of a robust fire was accompanied by a chorus of crickets in the distance, it's light flickering against the shiny walls of the cave. Wrapped in furs nearby, a delicate pale face marked with weaving grey tattoos peaked out from under the skins. A shock of long red hair stuck out here and there, appearing more vibrant in the warm glow. Her breathing sounded a bit ragged, but she was in far better shape than she had been two days ago, when Iver had first swaddled her on the cavern floor.
Her savior appeared to be asleep, he sat motionless for some time as the wolves called out beyond their sanctuary. At the mouth of the cave a frog returned home, croaking out it's satisfaction it roused the shabbily dressed man. Prying open wrinkle etched eyelids, he learned forward to throw another log on the fire with a grunt. Fetching a pipe carved to resemble a snail, his fingertips guided a wad of tobacco into the chamber, as he let out an exaggerated yawn. Just as everything else, this elicited no reaction from the woman.
For perhaps the thousandth time since Iver guided them through the Eshlume foothills, he pondered the circumstances that had taken this strange woman to the edge of her life force. In a wasteland that spoke to the true depths of the hubris of man, this woman had set feet where few were permitted. Words long discarded along with the intentions they carried had flowed from her lips freely, the Aloran homeland responded to her chant. The efforts of this strange visitor had begun to awaken forces that had lain dormant for generations, when chaos beyond her control broke loose in a whirlwind that almost claimed her life.
When the blood of the Alora ran down the hillsides in man's vicious pogrom against them, the forest had responded in kind. The wilds of this place, and the lands that lay beyond, were once the battlegrounds of a tipping balance. As industry pushed man farther out from their established core, the desire for resources was met by unfathomable hostility in the wilderness. Horses that forgot years of training to wander off, dogs that caught a scent that turned them on their owners, birds that came to peck at the foolish invaders... here nature could not be tamed in the orderly way man prefers. Connected through a vast system of roots, the trees communicated in these parts where things like money and politics hold no weight. The very leaves that shaded man here were united in human destruction, each aspect of the woods doing its part in the fight.
As a skin changer Iver was not viewed as a threat in the wilds, yet he often passed time as a crow out of enjoyment. About a week ago he had been scouring the woodland expanse for a particular mischievous face, when he spotted a cloaked figure amongst the trees instead. Her misplaced presence was muted by the way she moved in perfect unison with her surroundings, each step of her dainty feet placed just so as to not disturb the underbrush. Briefly Iver was lost in awe of her profound beauty as she harmoniously traveled in tune with the thicket.
It was two moons into tracking the movements of the woman when Iver saw her speak to the trees. Entranced, he watched as ancient words not uttered in ages bubbled from her lips like the gurgle of a merry stream. Who was this strange hominid that the forest welcomed into it's depths? Swooping two and fro between the trees in the lady's wake, his confusion and awe would only grow when he realized she was headed towards the Aloran nexus.
A vast upheaval of what Iver had come to understand as reality swirled about his mind as he kept watch over the woman. Ever since he rescued this oddity from the graveyard that marked the Aloran slaughter, a shift could be felt in the way branches swayed, in the songs of the birds. The wilderness knew even miles away what had happened, for trees love nothing more than gossip.
The ember from the interestingly carved pipe illuminated Iver's tired grey eyes, he had deeply hoped to see a change in his unknowing companion today. Supplies were low, and he had no choice but to leave her unattended for a time, with a huff he raised himself up. "Some water would be greatly appreciated" her voice was barely audible, yet it startled Iver all the same. Moving to her side with his canteen, he looked at her with all the concern of a dear friend. "I'm relieved to see that you've come to, it has been a troubling few days... I wasn't sure you would live." he really seemed to mean that. Sitting up, the woman greedily drained the canteen, a small trail of water running down her chin as she satiated her thirst. He continued on "I have not heard human voices speak those words in my lifetime, who are you?" the focus of his face made her laugh, it was a terrifying sound. "I am." she smiled as she rose to her feet, and all at once lust and gripping fear struck Iver simultaneously. Although she was much smaller than him, Iver felt her tower over him as she paused to consider his weather etched face.
As her large green eyes met his, Iver felt paralyzed. Time seemed to stop as she tilted her head in an almost playful manner, there was a clear question posed. Silently they spoke of ages passed, of things forgotten, duties left discarded. A flood of understanding filled the gaps of confusion, Iver hung his head, humbled he could no longer meet her gaze. "You stopped listening, but she has never stopped calling out for her children... and now the blight comes for you too." her voice was kind, silk against the wounds her truth inflicted. "Do you not hear her now Iver? Her streams, her aquifers, her glimmering pools that sustain you- have you hardened your heart so that you no longer feel her lament?"
In a sudden gust of wind Iver found himself alone with his guilt, and the painful remembrance of who he really was. Outside, the nexus beckoned him to come forth from his hideout, it's pull like a siren song. Under the stars Iver was met by his fellows, the lazy inhabitants of this land, who once had been devoted to protecting it's essence. As dryads and centaurs emerged next to gnomes and skin changers, a collective understanding was established as they met eyes. The pleading that rang out from the earth could no longer be ignored for fleeting comfort... in accepting the upheaval of natural hierarchy, they had betrayed their duty. No more.
A photo taken on a recent vacation
It was a ton of fun to write Water's Lament, which followed two characters in my developing novel. I find that writing short background stories is a great way to expand characters, especially when you're stuck- sometimes they let you know how they want to be written! I'd love to hear what other writers like to do to ease writers block below! Thanks for reading :)
