Morea's Hunting Ground

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6^th of The Amber Cold, 1774.

 

Aedrie Sirame lifted her gaze to study the stars above her that were slowly fading with the vibrant light from the rising sun in the east. She took in a deep breath of cool air through her nose, allowing peace to wash over her as she held the breath for a bit before slowly letting it out. In the Mali’ame’s left hand she gripped a dark wooden bow decorated with carvings of a stag and the Mani Morea, and across her right shoulder she carried a homemade quiver full of arrows. A gentle smile appeared on her face upon noticing a light grey owl that glided silently from the trees of Siramenor to follow the Dedicant as she set off on her mission: a solo hunting trip.

 

“What do you think we’ll find this morning, Hileia?” Aedrie hummed softly to the owl circling around her. She uttered a tiny chuckle and continued walking at a somewhat quick pace out of the Glade and across the road to a dense cluster of grasslands and woods near the swamp, each of her steps light and careful.

 

The Dedicant wandered along peacefully, though she appeared to constantly scan her surroundings for signs of movement. She climbed up a grassy incline and stopped abruptly at the top, peering down at the valley below the cliff she was positioned on.

 

 

A deep grumble from the valley caused Aedrie’s grip to tighten around her bow. She instinctively crouched down in the tall grass to conceal herself before pushing aside the blades obstructing her line of vision. A dark brown lump emerged from across the river and revealed itself: a bison! Its huge head rose up to sniff the air, its two horns pointed upward toward the rising sun. The Dedicant glanced at her beloved owl for a second, then back to the bison. “Look what we found!” she whispered as she began to raise her bow. “One of these can feed practically all of Siramenor.”

 

The Mali’ame’s eyes narrowed slightly as soon as she reached for an arrow; a second lump emerged from behind the first. Then a third. A fourth. “A herd,” she murmured to no one in particular. “Aspects, a massive one,” she added after a few more seconds of scanning the valley beyond the river.

 

 

There was, in fact, a massive herd in front of the Dedicant: it looked as though there were at least thirty in her line of vision alone. No doubt, there would be more beyond the soft hills behind this patch of grassland.

 

A quick swoop across Aedrie’s line of vision caused the ‘ame’s eyes to tear from the herd and up into the sky. She let out a tiny, nearly undetectable hum before crouching further in the tall grass with her owl. Her focus quickly shifted to what appeared to be an oddly tall bird flying away from a nearby tree... a crane, perhaps?

 

Aedrie heard a series of high-pitched calls and panned her vision back toward the grazing bison. Squinting slightly to see despite the distance, she noticed several more birds quite similar to the one in flight above her: a flock.

 

A group of the cranes took off from the tree and gracefully swooped downward to plunge into the nearby river, and Aedrie was hit with an immediate realization: “The fish, of course.” She loosened her grip on her bow and paused to admire the scene, which seemed truly filled to the brim with animals available for hunting: bison, cranes, and trout were very obviously abundant, and the hills likely concealed many others.

 

The Dedicant brightened as an idea came to her. The light, ever-present smile that had been on her face widened, and she slowly rose up from the tall grass to hurry back to her home, the Glade of Siramenor. Upon her hasty return to the grassland, she was holding a sturdy wooden sign and a large vial of dark green paint with a paintbrush she had crafted from a raccoon bone. She set the sign on the ground and got to work, her owl close by her side.

 

When the ‘ame finished painting, the sign read:

 

”Morea’s Hunting Ground.

Feel free to hunt:
Bison, Cranes, and Trout.

DO NOT OVER-HUNT!”

 

Despite the rather firm final statement on the sign, a tiny smiley face was painted directly below it.

 

Aedrie stuck the sign in the ground and silently stepped back, still wearing a satisfied smile. She glanced once again to Hileia, then back to the grassland behind the sign. “For Morea,” she whispered, and she drew a circle over her chest. With that, the Dedicant turned around and excitedly walked back to her home, one step closer to completing her Grand Task.