Too Far From Home
An endless barrage of raindrops fell upon the treetops, sliding their way down to the lush jungle floor of Urmothâr. The new land had already proven itself dangerous time and time again to foreigners seeking adventure, new lives, or to grow fat on the riches that the land may provide. Dangerous wildlife, sudden deep chasms, and wide rivers plagued those who did not fully understand the lay of the land. After countless stories of the jungle's fury, Young Atticus was now experiencing this peril first hand.
Alone in the hungry dark of the jungle, the Tindremene, barely a man, found himself in utter terror and out of breath. Panting and running he desperately scanned his surroundings for any familiar landmark that might guide him towards salvation. Exhausted, he finally stopped to hide behind a thick vine covered tree. While doing his best to stifle his ragged breathing, he listened through the rain for any sound of footsteps or rustling undergrowth. He looked around, wide eyed, before turning his gaze down to his wrists. His recent ordeal had left deep lacerations wrapped around each of them, a throbbing reminder of the hospitality of his captors who now pursued him. For a moment, he felt the temptation of hope, as he may have evaded them. This feeling was shattered by whispers in a foreign tongue and the cawing of birds as they flew away en mass from the direction Atticus had himself just fled.
Forgetting his exhaustion, Atticus ran with renewed vigor as he was beginning to recognize this area he and his friends had explored only a day or two before. To his surprise and delight he seemed to be easily outrunning his hunters as the streaks of lightning helped illuminate his way, the rain muddied his tracks, and the thunder drowned out his breathing.
Unfortunately for Atticus, the jungle has a way of punishing optimism, and an unseen moss covered rock caused our hero to take a tumble as his right ankle turned with a gruesome crack and lowered him to his knees. Humbled and in extreme pain, Atticus cried out. Whimpering and realizing his mistake, he looked around the jungle with renewed fear. He crawled close against a large rock and listened for some time, believing he had made his fatal mistake and would soon be set upon by those who had already slaughtered his comrades.
But they did not come.
The rain passed and the sun began to show through the trees. Once again surprised and relieved, Atticus drew the strength to get back on his feet. A large branch stabilizing his right side, the young man set off in the direction he was increasingly confident would deliver him safely to the Tindremene settlement he had been living in the past two months. Making his way through the jungle he felt at ease, now sure that the jungle had spared him, and his pursuers had lost their lead in the chaos of the storm. Within an hour, he reached the top of a hill overlooking the beach clearing where his countrymen had landed and began building on this new continent. He was just a brisk walk from safety. Joy overtook Atticus.
Atticus felt the tip of a spear nudge his back. Swallowing hard and turning slowly, Atticus came face to face with a Veela warrior. Pale white skin surrounded pitch black eyes which stared at Atticus with murderous intent. The Veela mumbled something in a tongue that was incomprehensible to Atticus, and more of the Alvarin jungle hunters emerged from the trees atop the hill. It became clear to Atticus now, that he had in fact never evaded them. The spear wielding Veela looked past Atticus at the settlement below. Then, he took one last hard look at Atticus before speaking plainly and clearly in Atticus' own native language.
"You are too far from home. You should never have come here. "
The Veela then plunged his flakestone spear through Atticus' throat and ripped it back with an emotionless brutality and grace. Atticus fell to the ground clutching his neck. He then tumbled down the hill towards the village. Several more Veela warriors emerged from the jungle, armed with bows, spears, and destructive fire.
An endless barrage of raindrops fell upon the treetops, sliding their way down to the lush jungle floor of Urmothâr. The new land had already proven itself dangerous time and time again to foreigners seeking adventure, new lives, or to grow fat on the riches that the land may provide. Dangerous wildlife, sudden deep chasms, and wide rivers plagued those who did not fully understand the lay of the land. After countless stories of the jungle's fury, Young Atticus was now experiencing this peril first hand.
Alone in the hungry dark of the jungle, the Tindremene, barely a man, found himself in utter terror and out of breath. Panting and running he desperately scanned his surroundings for any familiar landmark that might guide him towards salvation. Exhausted, he finally stopped to hide behind a thick vine covered tree. While doing his best to stifle his ragged breathing, he listened through the rain for any sound of footsteps or rustling undergrowth. He looked around, wide eyed, before turning his gaze down to his wrists. His recent ordeal had left deep lacerations wrapped around each of them, a throbbing reminder of the hospitality of his captors who now pursued him. For a moment, he felt the temptation of hope, as he may have evaded them. This feeling was shattered by whispers in a foreign tongue and the cawing of birds as they flew away en mass from the direction Atticus had himself just fled.
Forgetting his exhaustion, Atticus ran with renewed vigor as he was beginning to recognize this area he and his friends had explored only a day or two before. To his surprise and delight he seemed to be easily outrunning his hunters as the streaks of lightning helped illuminate his way, the rain muddied his tracks, and the thunder drowned out his breathing.
Unfortunately for Atticus, the jungle has a way of punishing optimism, and an unseen moss covered rock caused our hero to take a tumble as his right ankle turned with a gruesome crack and lowered him to his knees. Humbled and in extreme pain, Atticus cried out. Whimpering and realizing his mistake, he looked around the jungle with renewed fear. He crawled close against a large rock and listened for some time, believing he had made his fatal mistake and would soon be set upon by those who had already slaughtered his comrades.
But they did not come.
The rain passed and the sun began to show through the trees. Once again surprised and relieved, Atticus drew the strength to get back on his feet. A large branch stabilizing his right side, the young man set off in the direction he was increasingly confident would deliver him safely to the Tindremene settlement he had been living in the past two months. Making his way through the jungle he felt at ease, now sure that the jungle had spared him, and his pursuers had lost their lead in the chaos of the storm. Within an hour, he reached the top of a hill overlooking the beach clearing where his countrymen had landed and began building on this new continent. He was just a brisk walk from safety. Joy overtook Atticus.
Atticus felt the tip of a spear nudge his back. Swallowing hard and turning slowly, Atticus came face to face with a Veela warrior. Pale white skin surrounded pitch black eyes which stared at Atticus with murderous intent. The Veela mumbled something in a tongue that was incomprehensible to Atticus, and more of the Alvarin jungle hunters emerged from the trees atop the hill. It became clear to Atticus now, that he had in fact never evaded them. The spear wielding Veela looked past Atticus at the settlement below. Then, he took one last hard look at Atticus before speaking plainly and clearly in Atticus' own native language.
"You are too far from home. You should never have come here. "
The Veela then plunged his flakestone spear through Atticus' throat and ripped it back with an emotionless brutality and grace. Atticus fell to the ground clutching his neck. He then tumbled down the hill towards the village. Several more Veela warriors emerged from the jungle, armed with bows, spears, and destructive fire.
