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Father Circle Trial Beginning The trial, much like the last one, began with all possessions being left behind. Though this time I wasn’t blind, and it wasn’t just a trial of survival. But a trial of a hunt against another entity that was stronger than myself. Something to truly test me. Deciding to take a bit of a trip with the previous trials in mind he stepped into the woods and just…walked. Walked until he felt there was something I had found that needed to be hunted, or something that challenged me themselves. Stepping over the bridge and walking back into the deep woods and walking. Ruins that were being reclaimed by nature took hold of sight on the horizon, the sound of thriving nature, of bird song and critters echoed out from all around. The soft touch of grass and soil brushed against bare toes as the sound of nature slowly dimmed, growing quieter due to the unfamiliar predator that was stalking the woods. The grounds soon gave way to a thicker, heavier mud and a gathering of berry bushes. Along with a half buried branch that seems to have fallen and pierced into the ground. I gathered up the branch from the ground and gave it a few testing swings to see if it was balanced at first. And then some jagged stones and a larger, rounder stone as I moved to take a seat and slowly began to grind them, and sharpen them in the hidden shade of a tree. Grinding stone. It echoed out and danced through the air as the feeling of curiosity flowed from the tree line. Soon revealing a squirrel that skittered closer. Observing. A smile traded before a rustle in the leaves has it fleeing into the bushes. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. With the smooth stone, the pointed edges of the sharpened stone pierced into the branch. A crude, stone axe was born. A flash of orange appeared after the axe had been made and the squirrel had fled. But I took a moment to gather up some of the berries. Crushing them with the mood to make it even more sticky while grabbing some fallen leaves. Filling a ‘nest’ of leaves with the sticky residue and thorns before curling it up and sealing it. Effectively making two projectiles before I moved to investigate what the bloom of orange was. Caution bled through the music. In the voice. A fox. Blood soaking its jaws and looking up to the predator that looked upon it. No interest was shown to the beast, but it noticed him. It dragged the carcass. The rabbit. Before abandoning it and fleeing out of sight and view. Leaving its bleeding remains. The rabbit had some potential to be used as bait so I took it and hooked it on my belt. Though in the end I never got a chance to use it as nothing more than a meal as it wasn’t long after this that I discovered something that was…luring me, attempting to have me drop my guard by flashing its horned antlers. A flash of black slinking out of sight drawing attention and drawing me further and further away from the path I was on. Its form slowly revealed itself with a soothing, calming song. A black, sleek and large stallion of a horse. With a beautiful mane flowing and hanging down its form. Walking towards a small lake before looking back with obsidian eyes. The song beckoned…guiding towards the edge of a hill. Beckoning. Then…the horse stepped upon the waters. And realisation shot through like a wave of ice chilling the spine. Realising just what this creature was, and what it was attempting to lure me into doing, tension had risen. One of the balls was grasped in my hand that I had created. Not planning to become the prey like I had seen another be to one of these creatures before. And then, it was launched. The sticky mud and thorns impacted against its head and blinded one of its eyes as the thorns sank in and caused it to bleed. Right as the battle truly began. Something new. Shocking. Came from the creature as a blade of water rose up and whipped through the air. Pain spiked while a body tumbled down the hill closer to the waters that it had made its den. More waves, heavy, bruising, battering waters descended. The old tactic. Duck, roll. Evade. Rinse and repeat. A second orb hurled. Blocked. Defended. Inching closer. Caught! And hammered, locked against a hill being battered again and again by the heavy waters. Being battered, attacked, bruised and beaten, a free hand of mine grasped one of the sugar canes and broke it, leaving a jagged tip at the bottom while ducking behind the canes for some cover. The fae horse was enraged, sending water everywhere after losing sight of me as I climbed up the hill. Making sure I stayed low and patiently waiting for the prime time to send the makeshift javelin of sugar fly through the air. Successfully piercing it into the neck of the beast. But it barely seemed phased at the moment. And the battle raged on. Stone axe in hand and round stone in the other. Weapons diminishing. Intatitive couldn’t be lost. Rushing feet hammered over the shoreline and the axe swung. It rose up, evading, defending. Standing upon the surface of the water itself as the axe sank deep into its front leg. And with a surge of water the predator that was fighting the other predator was pulled into the waters and began to be dragged down. Only a firm grip on the axe, and the searing heat of retained breath kept darkness from claiming the man under its hooves. I was unable to get the arm strength to get the axe out of the limb while the waters raged, battered, and attempted to drag me into the depths as hooves moved to hammer down upon me. Especially as it was the only anchor I had to the surface. Reducing me to using my stone to try and hammer the javelin deeper into its neck. Almost losing my hand to those sharp canines of razor fangs before the pain had the beast whip its head back as the javelin was knocked deeper within. But…a price was paid for the exchange. Crunk. The hand that was working to anchor him was caught, and crumbled under the heavy impact of the hoof. Pain of both beasts echoed through the air. An intake of water, seizing and choking the lungs. Falling back to primal instinct another ape swing of a stone was bashed down. Rooting the cane that was soaked in black ichor that was starting to taint the water. And piercing it through. Pain, rage, gleams of predators' emotions shined in both of their eyes. And waters surged. Propelling its form directly at me using its powers to enhance the roll its entire being crashed, and crushed my chest as I was flung from the water to the shoreline. By the crack and shortness of breath I was sure some of my ribs had been crushed in that act. No doubt getting even worse as the fae horse came crashing down upon my own, crushing me under its weight as I was pinned against its frame. For several moments the legs kicked, and the jaw moved with the creatures intent to keep fighting. Even as the black ichor poured from its neck, soaking my form underneath it…and then. We locked eyes. Pain echoed through the song. Horrid, deep pain. Obsidian eyes met Aqua, emotionless, but glistening as if they were ready to shed tears. A song of respect, and an echo of the land of fae, of eternal flowed back as words in prayer began to be spoken as a soothing hand moved to brush through the thick, matted hair of the beast. Attempting to sooth in the final moments…The eyes closely closed before his own. And down came the stone, a firm, final strike. Giving it the sweet release of pain and the gentle melody of silence once more. I gave my prayers. And with a tortuous moment I lingered under the crushing weight before wiggling free like a worm. The next part was tricky, with only my non-dominant hand working, no tools, no containers. I had to skin, feast, and gather the remains of the kill. Thankfully I had the rabbit and bones. Along with the sharp stones that came from the makeshift axe when it was broken to do the cutting. Blood was gathered. The hide, recovered as best as it could be. Flesh gathered for the long journey home. What couldn't be reclaimed returned to nature. And with that…the hunt was complete. Covered head to two in black, and purple bruises. Three ribs broken, but thankfully not puncturing my lungs. A hand crumpled beyond use. Exhausted from the hunt, and head ringing from being battered around like a toy by the waters for so long. But a successful hunt, it was. And those antlers turned out to be nothing more than branches tangled to the mane.

>───⇌••⇋───< “Come, little leaves,” said the wind one day. “Come over the meadows with me and play! Put on your dresses of red and gold, for Summer is gone and the days grow cold. Soon as the leaves heard the wind’s loud call, down they came fluttering, one and all; Over the brown fields they danced and flew, singing the sweet little songs they knew. -George Cooper ━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━ The warmth of the summer’s days soon came to an end and the seasons began to change. The Autumn sun spread a carpet of leaves, by hundreds, all dressed in colors of yellow and crimson as the village prepared for the harvest. The wilds, too, prepared themselves for the coming changes. Busying themselves with preparing a safe haven and foraging for food to store before Winter came. Changes were brought upon the realm after the ending of Ostara. The leaves transitioning from shades of green to vibrant colors or crimson and yellow as those of the fold prepare for the Rite of Mabon. [Art by Mathias Zamęcki] ━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━ • Offerings• Baskets full of herbs and fruits foraged from the first day of fall will be brought to the ritual grounds. Members of the fold will also bring stacks of wood and other materials foraged from abandoned structures to add to the stacked fire pit. An act of parting from the plethora of goods provided by past seasons. ━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━ • Ritual• On the first day of Autumn, members of the fold will gather to head out into the lands to forage wood and other materials from abandoned structures or fallen trees to bring back to the village. Members will gather beneath the glowing moon at dusk. At the start of the festival the Autumn Raithean will call upon members of the circle to stack their foraged goods into the pit where everyone will gather ‘round and chant to the Horned Father while the Autumn Raithean lights the pit ablaze. During the months of Autumn, Father Circle druii will feed the flames of Mabon to keep them lit throughout the changing season. ━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━ • Rite• At the end of the Autumnal months, members of the fold will gather around the fire once more. To mark the end of the Equinox, the Autumn Raithean will bring black water from the Father tree to douse the dancing flames. ━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━┅━ Eretria Arvellon - Raithean of Autumn