...of the Lady Aryna in the Oestern Wilds...

It was here, as a child, she understood what causes death in the wilds.  The lands of the Oestern were in perpetual snow, but now, in the first freeze of the season, the late summer warmth and its flowing streams were growing solid.  A light veneer of ice formed a fragile shell along the rivulets here and there.  The rock of the hills still contrasted against the snow, they not yet covered.  This allowed for sure footing, this allowed for sure hunting.

She tightened the lashes on her leggings and felt about her furs: all was assured.  She took in a deep breath of the harshly frozen air, cooling quickly in the late of day.  As the sun would drop quickly here, the countless ravines already in shadow would be in pitch soon.  She relished the challenge of making camp in darkness, it had been many seasons since last did so.  The wind picked up and chilled through her fur capes.  Leather provided little protection as night fell.  It woke her mind.  Her green eyes scanned the landscape.

Prey would come from their holes and use what little time they had to forage in the last of the light.  Larger predators were already here with Aryna, some would be aware of her.  She hadn't been long enough in the wilds to smell of the wilds.  It would take a few days.  A few days for the stench of Edithion to wear from her hair and furs.  The smells of men: of smoke, meat and mead.

She crouched into the folds of a large spur in the hill.  She would no longer be downwind.  The breeze of night shifted and spilled down from the top of the mounts into the valleys.  Aryna pressed herself against the rock.  She kept the bow close to her body, keeping an arrow notched.  The warmth would keep the string from going taunt.

The sky above turned to a deep azure.  Trees crowned the mounts here.  She hadn't run into a trapper for some time, but there were a few out here.  Oestern was vast.  The mounts grew higher and higher as they moved east.  No one in her travels even spoke of what was beyond.  There were bard's tales that they grew eventually so high that they reached into the sky.  Snow from the highest peaks created the star's light.  The sun would rest, nestled into the rock.  The twin moons, Aechulus and Kili, came from the seas, where they bathed in the day.  She stared as far as she could into the fog of the East, but only saw haze.  There were tales the clouds were taken in by the mountains to satiate the Filial Dragoons.

The forest before her came to life.  The smallest rodents skittered from cover to cover.  The larger ones were finding vegetation.  They couldn't be seen, as was the point.  But they were making a cacophony that was an otherwise silent forest hours before.  The predators here, the fox and a snow mongoose, should be out shortly, Ignaius willing.  She silently prayed for the former - the mongoose was a terrible meal and only for those on the verge of starvation.  There were tricks of course, you could boil the stench for a full day and put in a handful of spices, but she had no cauldron.

Her eyes caught something in the black.  It was a back of something light.  It didn't need protection as it was the predator.  It was hopping on something on the ground, pounding a rabbit into submission.  It had to be a wild dog.  That would be a worse meal than the mongoose.  She let it go - but not before scaring the hell of it with a few rocks and a hoarse shout, "Kelia man su rach!"

The spur grew silent.  The dog ran off somewhere down the mountain.  Aryna found the rabbit, dead, but intact.  The dog hadn't broken the skin with its teeth.  It was cut, but only by the claws.  It would be fine.  She tied its legs to her belt and felt her way back up the mount.

A flat spit of land was a short climb from the peak.  It had been slightly worn by other hunters in the recent past.  But she would not take from its store, nor use what was there to create a shelter.  She was here to strengthen her skills, not make it easy.

Using a crude knife of stone, she cut into the trees, getting six large branches of ihrilung.  It was enough to cover her body tonight.  It would get wet otherwise.  Out here, now, even slight dampness could equate to death.  She used leather straps to put together a lean-to, using a clear portion of the mountain as the second wall.  It was enough to sit upright, which was key to comfort.

A small hole was made with flat wood tool, near where her legs would be tonight.  In it, she produced a kit, the most important was an ember she had saved from Edithion's tavern two days ago.  In a few moments, she produced a lively little fire.  Twigs surrounded it to hopefully dry in the hour it would take to prepare the rabbit.

It was known as a 'tempest' rabbit.  It was three-palm large, with great incisors that extended a finger's width from its mouth.  The teeth were used by wood maker's for etching finery.  It's fur would fetch some bronze.  The meat is what was needed to tonight.  After preparing it, she threw the offal as far as she could downwind and returned to the lean-to. The fire had made it warm.  The twigs were drying.  She would have enough heat, barely, to cook the meat tonight.

The furs were laid upon the ground, atop a bed of ihrilung needles.  She loosened her leather trappings, just to allow for them to breathe, without taking them fully off.  The meat cooked slowly on small spits around the tiny fire.  To pass the time she rubbed at her muscles and loosened her hair.  The locks of wheat-colored hair fell down her back.  She twisted her head slightly to allow it fall further when she saw the face of the dog, probably the very one she stole the trophy from, staring at her from the folds of the leaves.  It growled in a low guttural way: it was upset and it meant to kill her.

...