Character: Pyr

The night’s silence spread all across the forest floor, smooth and encompassing like a child’s blanket. Winter has left the fauna scarce as they lay hidden inside their lairs to await the call back to life. Tonight the sky holds few stars, but that makes them all the more precious. Stretched sparsely across the dark purple canvas they dot the backdrop of infinity, twinkling stalwartly as if to prevent the dark from spilling out between the spaces. An algid, piercing breeze glides pass and the trees whisper pleasant nothings in their sleep.    The crisp taste of the frost in the air punctures tiny needles inside the throat and chest, spreading and creeping like fresh ice on glass. In the bowels of Volgg's forests, lesser beings fear to tread. Strange occurrences take place so often they might as well be commonplace. Some tell of sightings of deep indentions in the earth, massive pits too aberrant to attribute them to the natives of the region. Others tell of haunting sobs heard in the dead of night, followed by the sudden stroke of death in the family come morning. Fortuna herself spins her wheel haphazardly as newly acquired luck and fortune immediately turn sour and morose.

The forest shelters many things, bird and beast alike. She is nurturing to those who know her ways, her latent secrets, her safe passages and paths to traverse amongst the ancient wood. But those foolish enough to try and conquer it, subdue the twisting ramage and find claim to the brooks, boulders, and by-gone trails that color the land, they find that retribution comes as hidden and quick as a second shadow. Those without sight are doomed to falter in their arrogance, while the wise ones are good to fear a moonless night.

While few and far between, inhabitants do populate the vast woods. Generations of families rooted for centuries revel in the quietude of the forest. Rangers and hunters live off the sustenance it provides. Others are drawn in by a more mystical force, hoping to find themselves underneath the veils of static and noise acquired from a hectic life. Then there are the pilgrims; wanderers who traverse the land in search of something not yet known to them, pulled by the presence of the forest itself.

A heady scent of smoke and flame, set apart from the sweet smelling rot of leaves and soil below, leads to a secluded clearing under the arching figures of beech and elm. A modest fire illuminates the setting, bathing the area with its amber glow. Crackles and snaps emanate from the kindling as a stick briefly disturbs it. Though a fire bends and warms, the sight of any nearby dwellings is unseen. Upon a felled trunk rests a woman, her wispy neck enveloped in a winding cowl scarf. Cinders fly as she trails the stick inside the fire, held by a gloved hand whose exposed fingers conjure up the frothy color of a mug of hot chocolate. She tosses her head to the side as if she’s looking for something. Her hair resembles the crimson leaves of a burning bush plant in autumn, drooping like a willow; it drapes and conceals a portion of her face, though her visible eye is the washed red reminiscent of a ladybug shell.

While setting down the stick, her head jerks to the right, a sense honed by prolonged time in the woods. She’s surprised to see another life so far in the recesses of the wilderness.  “Oh, a fellow wayfarer. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” With her focus away from tending the flame, she gives a benign smile to the new presence occupying her attention.

“Forgive me; I don’t have any refreshments on me at the moment. We’re so secluded that it’s a rarity to come across someone else in these parts.” She scoots across the felled trunk in order to make room.  “Please, won’t you sit with me? I’m not much for company, but it’s been quite a while since I’ve had contact with another. Though, it does strike me as peculiar as to why you’re traveling at night. Most fellows journey in daylight.”

“Unless,” she said setting a hand upon her mouth. “You aren’t lost are you? It’s very dangerous to wander in the woods at night if you don’t know where to stay clear of. I’ve got a small place just pass this clearing,” she says as she bobs her head forward. “You’re welcomed to settle in with me for the night. It isn’t much, but it’s safe and cozy.” She rubs her hands together as if to illustrate how warm it must be back there, her scarf apparently not up

“But before I show you my abode, why not don’t we spin a tale or two? I’m certain that you have a few tales, and I can provide you with a story if you don’t.” After an initial bout of silence, where all but the burning of the tinder quiets, she speaks up. “Why don’t we get acquainted with each other? If you’d like, you can question me and I’ll try to answer it to the best of my ability.” A sliver of a smile streaks across the bottom of her face. As she blinks, an instantaneous change takes place, subtle at first, then striking like a clanging hammer on an anvil. Her eye, where once there was softness now was a deep rift of undulating color glowing gently with the flames. Looking inside of it felt like peering into the secrets of five-thousand sunsets.  “I am called Pyr. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
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