Grienbhry'ock. An elvish village of minuscule proportions that nestled itself by the edge of a river, inhabited by elves of similar stature. It was a grove of trees that were in fact homes of the elvish people, large enough to house a thousand of them but still smaller than the smallest village of other peoples. The Wiyldl'ygt, as they so adoringly called themselves, were a people who lived by the land and for the land. A people who felt so deeply and keenly, they harnessed the power of Nature itself. They who could encourage plants to grow, promote rapid regeneration of injuries, stave off illness, and most importantly, do no harm. They feel the connection between themselves and every living thing; from the smallest ant to the largest tree, they show their care and love.
Aisling was no different. Like the rest of her people, she was small and had a distinct wildness about her. Perhaps even more wild. She had pale, yet slightly tanned skin, two long ears that framed a rounded hawkish face an two distinctively different colored eyes; her right was a sky blue, the left a leaf green. Her hair was the color of a deer's warm pelt, long enough to go passed the middle of her back, left mostly loose with a couple of thick plaits that kept her face free of blowing strands.
Like the rest of the Wiyldl'ygt, Aisling clothed herself in linen cloth or phyurse'ed garments depending on the season, woven bits of leaves, bark, stones, berries and the occasional feather. Plants that were used as garments were imbued with everlasting magic so they would continue to live on while worn. She chose to wear green, yellow and orange colors, as well as brown feathers that she had found over the course of her life. She wore a yellow band across her forehead made of cloth, to wick away sweat as she worked that matched a similar band on her left wrist. Her right arm was protected by a bark bracer held together by an olive-colored vine. She wore a short cloak of brown feathers held together by a string of river rocks on another vine. Her chest was covered by yellow orange cloth strips, her lower body covered by a bright orange loincloth and undergarments. Her feet were bare, though leaves and feathers were wrapped around her lower legs.
The similarities to her people ended there.
Where her people were conservative, holding tightly onto their ancient traditions, Aisling wanted something more. Though she respected and adored the ways of her people, she was curious about the world beyond. What kind of people lived outside of the forest, beyond the borders of their home? Were their other Wiyldl'ygt? Nature did not just create this forest, there was more, and even the most unskilled Wiyldl'ygt could feel the expanse. Birds appeared and disappeared, flying far overhead and through the canopy of the distant trees. When it began to become cold, bears and other animals vanished completely, only to return when the last of the snow melted and the river was dangerously swollen.
"Aisling, our home is in Grienbhry'ock. We have no need for anything more. Such is our way." Her parents had told her with narrowed eyes and gritted teeth.
The khiyeiphtaein did not bother to look at her, the members of the konklaevii merely whispered. The shhaemahn looked at her with disdain and pure dislike. Aisling looked out instead of within, and she was ousted for her yearning. For her differences.
That didn't mean she didn't do her job. And do her job well she did.
The shhaemahn had foretold, exactly 15 days after her birth, that she would be a phlurae, those who were responsable for shaping the trees for homes and the growing of food. When Aisling turned 5, she started her training. As expected, Aisling took to this job immediately, and she was decent at it. But when she turned 10 years old, her eyes wandered to those of the dryuiydsh. The dryuiydsh were the healers, the curers of disease and illness, those who were thought to be the closest to Nature even more-so than the shhaemahn.
She learned, and she learned fast. But the switching of roles was unheard of. It not only made her look odd, but the shhaemahn was also looked at strangely ever since.
By the time she was 16, Aisling was a skilled dryuiyd, despite how different she was from the rest of her people. She was needed and necessary, and she cared not for the scowls she often received. She ignored them and did her thing, though her gaze often looked out into the beyond, through the mist and the trees, catching sight of the animals that gave their village a wide berth, often locking eyes with them. Sensing the wilds beyond, her heart pining to join them. To move on, to see something new.
But as she grew, slowly the life around them started to wilt. Plants grew slower, even with the encouragement from the phlurae. She and the rest of the dryuiydsh struggled to heal the sick, and their burial grounds were frequented more often, and not just with the bodies of the old and sick. The birthrate dropped considerably, those who were with child suffered through childbirth and despaired when their young did not breathe.
Some of the people thought Aisling herself was to blame. Itt was a sign, perhaps, because of her different eyes. Or the fact she changed roles. Or that she was unsatisfied within Grienbhry'ock and wanted to see the world. The words slung at her cut her deeply. She had dealt with their scruitiny for most of her life, but she had never done anything untoward. She had helped many who ailed, assisted those who needed assisting.
And for once, the shhaemahn defended her. Aisling, even with that which made her unique, did not harbor the touch of death and the shhaemahn was not one to be trifled with. Both loved their tribe, and the shhaemahn stated that Aisling was enshrouded with Nature's love and could not be the harbinger they wanted to make her out to be.
It seemed to satisfy the tribe, though she could feel the eyes of her people watching her more carefully, as if they were looking for her to mess up, to slip up, to prove she was the one behind the blight. It hurt more than ever to know she was not trusted.
And then he came.
The sounds of his stags hooves ran through the forest, scattering birds above that took flight with their terrified calls acting as a warning. The tribe paused, their ears pricked as the calls put them all on high alert. Something was coming. Something horrible, surely. And while the tribe scrambled in fear, Aisling climbed the trees and looked out with curiosity. Curiosity and fear.
For all intents and purposes, he was a Wiyldl'ygt. He was small like the rest of them and wild as one could be, but he was a savage. An abomination of the like they had never seen before. He who wore furs and skins and rode upon the back of a wild stag; such cruelty was unheard of and not one they wanted to deal with. Surely he was a bringer of death that not even the Chieftain would brave him. The man on the stag might be a bringer of death. But as her people fled into their homes, the phlurae worked swiftly to encourage burs and brambles to protect their doors and dissuade the barbarian from entering. No one called her down to join them, it seemed as if it was everyone for themselves and their only line of defense was prickers and thorns. But to her...this was her chance. This might be the only way she could see what others were like, and had to set aside her misgivings.
Her fear.
While the tribe looked on through the slits between the trees of their homes, she left the borders of the village to meet with the terrifying man. Her fingers gripped her gnarled wood staff as if her life depending on it. She trembled like the leaves above, sweat beading on skin despite the cool breeze that blew through the forest around her. She did not know how to defend herself if the man attacked her, so she could only hope that the man would spare her and not see her as a threat. Would spare her people...
"B-by the breath o-of life, I-I welcome you.." She said, her voice shaking as she uttered a traditional Wiyldl'ygt greeting that was typically used to welcome a newborn to the world. She hardly felt like the young adult she ought to be, and certainly did not feel the confidence she usually felt. She was scared, but there was a shred of hope that the man atop the stag was not a threat, and there was more to him than his appearance.
Please...let it be so.
Owl Knight
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