A Trial of Survival

[searose143 108]

Rule #1: Never go without pocket sand.

 

To her dismay, the Iris Druid had broken that sacred rule. Not on purpose, of course; it wasn't really her fault that she had ended up on an odd island in the middle of the sea.

 

"..Ullran.." Aedrie Sirame cursed under her breath as she gradually sat up, her body a tad sunken into the island's white-yellow sand. Inked hands rubbed at her eyes, an unsuccessful attempt to block out the blazing sun, which wasn't at all helping the sharp pain at the back of her head. Reluctantly, the 'ame withdrew her hands and set them by her side as her eyes flicked open, and with a groan, she squinted around.

 

A seagull cawed loudly toward her right side. A rapid shuffling sounded at her left. Tall grass along the middle of the small island danced and sang in the swift sea breeze. Salty air whisked away loose grains of sand, sending them helplessly into the endless waves of the deep blue oblivion beyond.

 

Just before the marooned Elf, a silver-flecked rock glimmered in the sizzling sunlight, under it a tattered piece of parchment. Aedrie drew in an unsteady breath and reached out to grasp the rock and claim the paper underneath, finding upon it a hastily written note in familiar, messy handwriting:

 

"FiNd yOUr wAy Back tO tHE vaLE! nO gifTs!

 

<3

Mi V eN"

 

"Wh-" The Druid's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. She immediately sat up straighter, gaze flicking around for a sack of materials, or perhaps a bit of food, but she found nothing, a sense of panic beginning to build within her. For a few seconds, she sat in unnerved silence, the piercing caws of seabirds interrupting her train of thought here and there.

 

Aedrie shook her head violently then. "Ne. Asul lente karinto, Iris," the Druid assured herself in her native tongue. Tattooed hands clad with homemade wooden rings clapped together once. "Sulian! Sulian." A powerful gust of wind whipped dark red hair into her face, muffling her next exclamation. She stumbled a tad, then shoved her hair behind her ears. She drew the Bear Druid's note close to her chest as if sending a deep hug to her faraway sister, then slipped it into her pocket.

 

With a deep breath and another brief rub at her temples, the Druid steeled herself, back straightening, forcing herself to trudge toward the cluster to tall, waxy-leafed trees. Another, less dense cluster by the water's edge featured dark brown, circular objects at their tops: what Aedrie immediately recognized as coconuts. With a sigh of relief, the 'ame hurried over to the nearest coconut tree, climbing up its jagged sides with a bit of difficulty. At its top, the promised prize remained. A murmured prayer was given as she reached out to wrench the fruits from their branches. Like a firefighter sliding down a fire pole, Iris descended the winding trunk until her bare feet met the blistering sand once more.

 

What now? Get off this island, the 'ame thought urgently. Her gaze fell to the cluster of trees in the middle of the island. Canoe? Ne, not enough wood... Raft.

 

How to get the wood, though? Aedrie set the coconuts safely onto the grass, within her sight in case any hungry creatures would come along and try to grab them. She dug and dug with cupped hands, tunneling down until she hit something solid. With some force, Aedrie dislodged the cold object from the ground, finding that she had hit the jackpot. A fairly flat, charcoal-colored stone sat in her palm.

 

A smile flitted across the 'ame's face as she reached out to grab Miven's silver-speckled rock. She got to work, dragging the rounded rock against the edges of the flattened one, very gradually shaping and sharpening the flint into the shape of a knife. She looked up toward the sun to gauge the time; this tool wouldn't work too quickly, but it was the best one she could make for now.

 

Aedrie didn't waste time in hurrying over to the island's waxy-leafed trees. Grip tightening around the rounder rock in her right hand, she brought the stone down onto the tree's side, creating a small dent in the soft wood. She kept on repeating the action, the blunt force making a wide cut in the trunk. After shaking out her arm to relieve some discomfort, she walked around to the other side and grasped her makeshift flint blade. Small droplets of sap dribbled down the side of the bark as the blade slowly cut through it. WIth a final, powerful blow, the tree came toppling down.

 

A few fallen trees and two coconut water breaks later, twilight began to fall on the odd island. The deep blue only deepened, its eerie infinity seeming to stretch. Despite the potential danger the lost 'ame faced, never in her life had she seen a sunset quite as beautiful as this. No trees obscured the horizon, no buildings, nothing at all. There was nothing as far as she could see.

 

Never in her life had she longed for her paint and sketchbook as much as this, either; never in her life had she wanted to immortalize an image so much, but she soon dismissed the thought. What's the value in something that never ends, she concluded, if the end is what brings value?

 

~

 

Aedrie woke with a start the next morning, rudely awoken by a sudden scuttling noise. The sun had barely risen, the land had barely awakened, but she hopped up to her feet and looked about, eager to take her leave from the island. She groaned groggily, muscles sore from the previous day's work. Nevertheless, she knew her task.

 

Her first order of business: fashioning rope. With the help of her sharpened flint, she hacked long, waxy leaves fro the tops of the fallen trees and wound them tightly together. With a little help from her memory of canoe-making lessons, she laboriously split would - a difficult task without a good Ironwood hatchet, she thought irritably - and bound them together using the rope.

 

With the spare wood, of which there was little, Aedrie carved out a short, lightweight oar. She dug it into the sand by her side, only then realizing how much she missed her own iris-covered staff, the soft crescent shape at its top, from it dangling the light brown feathers reminiscent of a long-lost friend. A friend she would, as her beloved Haelun once reminded her, see again when the time comes.

 

The Druid cast a glance toward her very first Ilmyumier. The image of a great white owl, its wings outstretched in flight, wrapping around her upper arm. Then to the winding figure on her opposite arm, the Green Dragon Spirit, Taynei'hiylu, the mark of her own Seed, the Seed founded by Awaiti, the Seed that had given her a family so many years ago, the Seed that she was now a Chieftess of.

 

Suddenly, Aedrie gave a harsh huff, wooden oar wrenched out of the sand. No dillydallying. She swiftly paced toward the raft, an oar set by its side. She cleaned up, brushing any leftover leaves and coconut skin toward the trees so that they might help fertilize them in time. A prayer was murmured underneath the fiery, early afternoon sun to Cernunnos, then to her Patron Mani, Ohowaki. Pausing only to scoop white-hot sand into her pocket - Rule #1, she remembered - throw some makeshift rope around her shoulder, and fetch some more coconuts for the trip, she pushed the raft toward the island's East side into the side ocean, set the fruit in her lap, and rowed.

 

~

 

Night had long fallen by the time a dark mass appeared on the horizon. The weary 'ame's green eyes widened at the sight, then squinted in an attempt to gauge the terrain. A few few sparse trees appeared, it seemed.

 

The savannah. The 'ame nodded twice, a heavy exhale expelled out of her nose. Dangers could linger in the tall grass, food could be sparse, as could water... but at least it was the mainland. The raft came to a halt as it collided with coarse sand, which blended into dusty dirt and straw-colored grasses.

 

With her flint, the 'ame cut apart the raft she had fashioned on the island. Far from the flammable surroundings, she broke wooden planks into smaller pieces and stacked dry grasses atop it. A harsh strike of the speckled rock against the flint send a spark toward the pile of material, which quickly caught - burning dully due to the moisture lingering in the wood, but functioning nonetheless.

 

After attaching her flint to the wooden oar and patiently spearing several fish, Aedrie cooked a bland meal atop the small fire. Her body longed for sleep, but she refused to comply. Making sure the fire was safely extinguished, she secured the rope around her shoulder and set off for the Northeast, the earth now warmly lit by the sun peeking above the horizon. Dawn had risen.

 

~

 

A sigh of relief escaped the 'ame's lips as she noticed a forest looming on the horizon. The forest was an old friend to her, a place she could go to meditate, to practice, to learn. Her weary steps sped, feet sore from the constant walking along the sharp, dry grasses of the savannah for hours on end.

 

The forest greeted the Druid with open arms, it seemed; tall trees with flat leaves of dark green, of emerald, even of soft yellows hung above, casting gentle shadows upon the waving grass. Vines crawled up trunks, zinnias and yarrow bloomed, reaching up toward the early summer sun. Still, Aedrie was far from home.

 

Summer berries hung on leafy bushes, earning a brilliant smile from the hungry 'ame. She rushed toward them, eagerly picking off handfuls and popping them into her mouth. The heavy pain in her limbs and head seemed to disappear for a moment, the sweetness of those tiny fruits so delicious. Despite her hunger, she refrained from eating the entire bush, instead deciding to crack open her last coconut and drink its contents. Only then did an overwhelming wave of exhaustion hit her, and before anything else happened, she hastily drew an arrow in the nearby dirt pointing Northeast. She climbed up into a sturdy tree, falling asleep within seconds despite the light of the afternoon.

 

~

 

Birds chirped in the distance. The 'ame's throat burned for water, and her stomach grumbled for food. She sat up with a groan, gently pushing aside a branch to try and calculate the time - clouds now hung low over the sky, the sun blocked out. Only the Aspects knew how long she was out for - a day? Two days? Three?  No, couldn't be three...

 

A dull thump sounded as the Sirame's feet hit the damp grass. She rubbed at her temple, gaze flicking about in order to find some food. A bright flash of white caught her attention, knees bracing, hands flying up - but she realized it was only a patch of gently swaying flowers. Lilies. Aedrie softened, a breath gently taken, and she reached out to pick one and tuck it among the irises behind her ears.

 

~

 

The lost 'ame wandered through the seemingly never-ending forest, the flint-tipped oar always within her grasp. She venture through dense clusters of trees, through sparse ones, through fields of flowers, across rivers whose banks she rested beside. She ate berries and fish along the way, occasionally bringing herself to hunt a small animal - sneaking up behind it, waiting for the right time to come, and striking, as she had learned from her beloved owl companions and, she believed, from the Princess of Owls herself.

 

The weary 'ame came out of yet another clearing, but this one, she could immediately tell, was different. On the distant horizon stood a brilliant wall of white, walls which sparkled in the morning sun, walls which in some places were cracked and overgrown. Aedrie stuck her makeshift staff into the ground, a rope bracelet with ten green beads shifting as she lifted her hand to flick her right forearm. To her surprise, it hurt. It hurt! She was awake, after all!

 

She stood in place for a moment. Something pulled on her heart as if a magnet was drawing her back toward the forest. A feeling she knew well - the wilds always called, and after her recent twelve-year adventure through the infinite forests, the calling had strengthened. She looked back to the mouth of the forest which she had just walked out of, and she drew in a deep breath. But after a few moments, she shook her head. She'd be back soon, she thought. She'd always return to the forest.

 

A smile painted her weary face as she refocused upon the faraway Vale. One foot in front of the other, she walked, speeding with each step - walking, pacing, speedwalking, jogging, running, sprinting, the wind whistling in her ears, a few flowers flying away in the wind, leaving only two: a purple iris behind her right ear and a white lily behind her left. Upon reaching the stone path to the familiar Elven town, she slowed, sprinting, jogging, speedwalking, pacing, walking, inching along. An inked hand marked with the image of Ohowaki's Crest reached out toward the gate of winding roots. When her feet stopped moving, her outstretched fingers touched the cool material. She'd done it.