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Description
Story inspired by: www.deviantart.com/aralk/art/O…
Both the song in the description and Klara's artwork are beautiful

The sun had just began to break through the thick tree tops, chasing away the remaining shadows of night into the quiet woods. Aantai much preferred the dark, and had never quite understood the fixation of humans for the sunlight. Everything grew so exposed, and the prey so much more aware! She was glad, however, for this Crimson Warrior. Despite her youth, the human had all instincts in the right place, and was about as much at ease in the wilderness as any other animal that roamed the woods.
The same could not be said for the male human drawing near.

She was about to take flight, but decided to watch a moment before heading back to the Tori'i. She took no longer than a look to decide the man would be no trouble for Senshi. She had taken to simply calling her that, given that she had never learned the child's name.

She recalled the night Senshi had come to the Grove - what a small and pitiful creature she had been! Twigs and leaves stuck out from her hair, her robes tattered nearly to pieces, her frame a thin, pale thing, shaking and trembling. She had stumbled out of the trees into the Grove, half-dead from the cold of many winter nights, and in her wary eyes was no fear. Exhaustion and loneliness abounded, yet not a hint of fear. She had collapsed atop the temple steps, and hours later the Old Boy had come out to greet the sun. He had fed her and clothed her, and let her spend the night in the safety of the Grove. Then he tried to send her right back whence she had come, like a master scolding the pupil for wandering wither they should not. He came out of seclusion again at nightfall to find her washing the temple steps with water from the well and a red rag which looked suspiciously like one of the sacred tags from the temple door. He had scoffed sternly, although his eyes had been gentle, and attempted to frighten her with such dreadful, horrendous stories about the temple that would have any child running away and screaming. She had gone back with her head down into the woods but, the next morning, he had found her weeding by the well. Day after day she would return, and after he had understood even starvation would not set her off, he had granted her a place to sleep, on the condition she would swear absolute secrecy of the Grove, were she to ever leave its grounds. Eventually he had her meet the Watcher. Aantai recalled with amusement how he had introduced her as "The Nameless Watcher of the Grove". The young girl had looked at her and exclaimed "Aantai!"
Since then that had been her new name, perhaps her favourite out of the many names she had been known by over the centuries. She was an Ageless Owl, and had stood watch by the Grove since the days when the trees of the forest had been young; many masters and their guardians had come and gone, yet none had been quite like the pair which had now sworn their lives for the temple.
"This might be the trouble for outliving every creature," thought Aantai. "There is too much room for recollection."
She took off without a sound and headed for the temple steps, where Senshi sat in meditation.

*****

The girl jumped up slightly at the sound of a "hoot" and opened her eyes. Even after more than a decade, she could never seem to notice Aantai's presence unless she meant her to. This bothered her slightly, but gave her a deeper sense of respect for the owl.
"You have a visitor," said Aantai. Senshi nodded, then stood up and walked slowly toward the edge of the Grove, following the bird's flight. "For a place that's so hidden, there sure are plenty of guests," she thought. Their trinkets strewed the ground some ways outside the dwelling, like grim offerings to some dark god. She tied her hair up in a knot, drew her sword with great care.
The man came out of the trees in a daze, still looking behind as if to make sure he had not been followed. She waited until he faced forward, and saw his eyes darting between her and the temple, awe stamped in his face.
"Hello, friend," she said with a smile. "Do you speak our tongue?"
He hesitated a moment, then pulled himself together. "It appears that I do. Were you looking for this temple alone?"
"Neither alone nor otherwise. Yet it seems you are. What do you seek to find here?"
"Only shelter from the rotten woods I have just left behind. I would much appreciate it if your sword were not drawn, however. A man may take it the wrong way, you see. I mean you no harm, child."
Senshi looked up at the owl perched up on a branch above the man's head. Aantai tilted her head to the left. Senshi turned her gaze back at the man.
"Sir, may I ask your name?"
"I am Daesu." He took one step closer. Senshi no longer smiled, yet he seemed to have taken her question as somehow an invitation to go forward. "I have my business in Swan Town by the lake, but was headed East and had to pass through this forest. But, well... I lost my way and it appears I have been fortunate to find this place. What is your name, child?"
"I believe you have told me two truths and one lie. Therefore I feel the need to repay you in kind," said Senshi. "I guard this grove you see before you, and as to a name, I have none I can recall, though I am called Senshi by those who know me. And you are a man who will leave this place with your life."
He halted at this, apparently seeing the deeply-rooted menace stirring in her eyes. "Come now, child, why would you provoke a man twice your size? Are you so lacking in wit as to persist even in having your sword drawn?"
"I say, sir, surely you have seen the pretty trinkets scattered about this grove? They were once worn by men such as yourself. How witless of one to call another witless when he cannot see even what lies by his feet." Senshi lifted her blade and took a long look along its spotless edge. "When greed clouds your sight, then you have service for it no more."
Daesu let loose a stream of profanity at her, yet her eyes caught in that moment a glimpse of a falling auburn leaf, cleansing with its beauty the air which the man did fowl. The birds seemed to honour its slow descent in a beauteous song, the sun with its golden rays, the Crimson Warrior with her blade. She stepped her left leg backward and swiftly swept the wind with the long sword in one fluid motion, and then there was silence again. The leaf gently landed amidst the grass. Daesu's head had by then already come to a halt on the ground by her feet, and his blood drenched the greenery. His axe remained in its sling untouched.
"Do you think, Aantai, that there is anything in the world more precious to observe than the falling leaves in Autumn?"

*****

He was sure now he had heard noises, and not of the woodland sort. Perhaps voices? "Do I want to find out?" It seemed to him the trees and the birds and even the persistent buzzing of bugs had been kinder to him than he remembered his own kind ever being.
He had left the medlar behind for what seemed to him a turn of the sun. He had no berries left with him; he had brought only what he could carry in his hands, and after only a little while of wandering in the woods he had tripped his foot on a tall root. He had weakly cried out, heartbroken as the precious berries slipped from his hands down into a mossy creek far below. He had since then been unable to find anything even resembling food, and had spent the night in the dark and cold woods, still unclothed.
During his forest walk a realization had suddenly hit him: things should have names! He couldn't say why he felt it so, but something deep within told him this was true. He had known the name of the medlar without even realizing it, but he had come to suspect darkly that he might know the reason for that memory. He had shaken it off and walked on. And he had named. The tall trees and the short ones, the singing of birds in the morning and in the evening, this pattern and that, the little insects that flew and those that crawled, the grass, the wind, the flowers all. Here and there he would stop and marvel at all around him, like a little child, free of knowledge, filled with innocence and curiosity.
Presently he could sense the day begin to dawn, and that inquisitiveness got the better of him. Faster he strode through the dense woodland - caring for any roots by his feet - until he saw the trees were becoming sparser. He walked now on ground bejeweled with leaves of red and yellow, a soft carpet that was a balm for his sore feet. A heavy silence had fallen, and he felt conscious for the first time of how loud his feet crackled on the autumn leaves.
He stopped.
"It is her! But it is just as likely it is merely the mirror of my desire for it to be so. Are not dreams only that?" He drew closer and there was, indeed, a woman. Alas, only the slightest resemblance to the woman of his dream she bore. She seemed to be cleaning something, but he could not be certain. He needed to go further in.
As he approached, he heard a movement overhead, the softest whisper of wings fluttering. He looked up to see a large brown bird landing smoothly on a branch far above. He turned his gaze back at the woman and saw she stood in a wide, grassy grove. On her hand was a long blade of steel stained red, which she seemed to have been rubbing with a piece of blue pleated cloth. Her eyes stared coldly at his own, and his blood seemed to freeze as he saw Death glaring through them.

------

Previous: Shipwrecked

Continues in: Through the Eye of the Blind

Description
Story inspired by: www.deviantart.com/aralk/art/O…
Both the song in the description and Klara's artwork are beautiful

The sun had just began to break through the thick tree tops, chasing away the remaining shadows of night into the quiet woods. Aantai much preferred the dark, and had never quite understood the fixation of humans for the sunlight. Everything grew so exposed, and the prey so much more aware! She was glad, however, for this Crimson Warrior. Despite her youth, the human had all instincts in the right place, and was about as much at ease in the wilderness as any other animal that roamed the woods.
The same could not be said for the male human drawing near.

She was about to take flight, but decided to watch a moment before heading back to the Tori'i. She took no longer than a look to decide the man would be no trouble for Senshi. She had taken to simply calling her that, given that she had never learned the child's name.

She recalled the night Senshi had come to the Grove - what a small and pitiful creature she had been! Twigs and leaves stuck out from her hair, her robes tattered nearly to pieces, her frame a thin, pale thing, shaking and trembling. She had stumbled out of the trees into the Grove, half-dead from the cold of many winter nights, and in her wary eyes was no fear. Exhaustion and loneliness abounded, yet not a hint of fear. She had collapsed atop the temple steps, and hours later the Old Boy had come out to greet the sun. He had fed her and clothed her, and let her spend the night in the safety of the Grove. Then he tried to send her right back whence she had come, like a master scolding the pupil for wandering wither they should not. He came out of seclusion again at nightfall to find her washing the temple steps with water from the well and a red rag which looked suspiciously like one of the sacred tags from the temple door. He had scoffed sternly, although his eyes had been gentle, and attempted to frighten her with such dreadful, horrendous stories about the temple that would have any child running away and screaming. She had gone back with her head down into the woods but, the next morning, he had found her weeding by the well. Day after day she would return, and after he had understood even starvation would not set her off, he had granted her a place to sleep, on the condition she would swear absolute secrecy of the Grove, were she to ever leave its grounds. Eventually he had her meet the Watcher. Aantai recalled with amusement how he had introduced her as "The Nameless Watcher of the Grove". The young girl had looked at her and exclaimed "Aantai!"
Since then that had been her new name, perhaps her favourite out of the many names she had been known by over the centuries. She was an Ageless Owl, and had stood watch by the Grove since the days when the trees of the forest had been young; many masters and their guardians had come and gone, yet none had been quite like the pair which had now sworn their lives for the temple.
"This might be the trouble for outliving every creature," thought Aantai. "There is too much room for recollection."
She took off without a sound and headed for the temple steps, where Senshi sat in meditation.

*****

The girl jumped up slightly at the sound of a "hoot" and opened her eyes. Even after more than a decade, she could never seem to notice Aantai's presence unless she meant her to. This bothered her slightly, but gave her a deeper sense of respect for the owl.
"You have a visitor," said Aantai. Senshi nodded, then stood up and walked slowly toward the edge of the Grove, following the bird's flight. "For a place that's so hidden, there sure are plenty of guests," she thought. Their trinkets strewed the ground some ways outside the dwelling, like grim offerings to some dark god. She tied her hair up in a knot, drew her sword with great care.
The man came out of the trees in a daze, still looking behind as if to make sure he had not been followed. She waited until he faced forward, and saw his eyes darting between her and the temple, awe stamped in his face.
"Hello, friend," she said with a smile. "Do you speak our tongue?"
He hesitated a moment, then pulled himself together. "It appears that I do. Were you looking for this temple alone?"
"Neither alone nor otherwise. Yet it seems you are. What do you seek to find here?"
"Only shelter from the rotten woods I have just left behind. I would much appreciate it if your sword were not drawn, however. A man may take it the wrong way, you see. I mean you no harm, child."
Senshi looked up at the owl perched up on a branch above the man's head. Aantai tilted her head to the left. Senshi turned her gaze back at the man.
"Sir, may I ask your name?"
"I am Daesu." He took one step closer. Senshi no longer smiled, yet he seemed to have taken her question as somehow an invitation to go forward. "I have my business in Swan Town by the lake, but was headed East and had to pass through this forest. But, well... I lost my way and it appears I have been fortunate to find this place. What is your name, child?"
"I believe you have told me two truths and one lie. Therefore I feel the need to repay you in kind," said Senshi. "I guard this grove you see before you, and as to a name, I have none I can recall, though I am called Senshi by those who know me. And you are a man who will leave this place with your life."
He halted at this, apparently seeing the deeply-rooted menace stirring in her eyes. "Come now, child, why would you provoke a man twice your size? Are you so lacking in wit as to persist even in having your sword drawn?"
"I say, sir, surely you have seen the pretty trinkets scattered about this grove? They were once worn by men such as yourself. How witless of one to call another witless when he cannot see even what lies by his feet." Senshi lifted her blade and took a long look along its spotless edge. "When greed clouds your sight, then you have service for it no more."
Daesu let loose a stream of profanity at her, yet her eyes caught in that moment a glimpse of a falling auburn leaf, cleansing with its beauty the air which the man did fowl. The birds seemed to honour its slow descent in a beauteous song, the sun with its golden rays, the Crimson Warrior with her blade. She stepped her left leg backward and swiftly swept the wind with the long sword in one fluid motion, and then there was silence again. The leaf gently landed amidst the grass. Daesu's head had by then already come to a halt on the ground by her feet, and his blood drenched the greenery. His axe remained in its sling untouched.
"Do you think, Aantai, that there is anything in the world more precious to observe than the falling leaves in Autumn?"

*****

He was sure now he had heard noises, and not of the woodland sort. Perhaps voices? "Do I want to find out?" It seemed to him the trees and the birds and even the persistent buzzing of bugs had been kinder to him than he remembered his own kind ever being.
He had left the medlar behind for what seemed to him a turn of the sun. He had no berries left with him; he had brought only what he could carry in his hands, and after only a little while of wandering in the woods he had tripped his foot on a tall root. He had weakly cried out, heartbroken as the precious berries slipped from his hands down into a mossy creek far below. He had since then been unable to find anything even resembling food, and had spent the night in the dark and cold woods, still unclothed.
During his forest walk a realization had suddenly hit him: things should have names! He couldn't say why he felt it so, but something deep within told him this was true. He had known the name of the medlar without even realizing it, but he had come to suspect darkly that he might know the reason for that memory. He had shaken it off and walked on. And he had named. The tall trees and the short ones, the singing of birds in the morning and in the evening, this pattern and that, the little insects that flew and those that crawled, the grass, the wind, the flowers all. Here and there he would stop and marvel at all around him, like a little child, free of knowledge, filled with innocence and curiosity.
Presently he could sense the day begin to dawn, and that inquisitiveness got the better of him. Faster he strode through the dense woodland - caring for any roots by his feet - until he saw the trees were becoming sparser. He walked now on ground bejeweled with leaves of red and yellow, a soft carpet that was a balm for his sore feet. A heavy silence had fallen, and he felt conscious for the first time of how loud his feet crackled on the autumn leaves.
He stopped.
"It is her! But it is just as likely it is merely the mirror of my desire for it to be so. Are not dreams only that?" He drew closer and there was, indeed, a woman. Alas, only the slightest resemblance to the woman of his dream she bore. She seemed to be cleaning something, but he could not be certain. He needed to go further in.
As he approached, he heard a movement overhead, the softest whisper of wings fluttering. He looked up to see a large brown bird landing smoothly on a branch far above. He turned his gaze back at the woman and saw she stood in a wide, grassy grove. On her hand was a long blade of steel stained red, which she seemed to have been rubbing with a piece of blue pleated cloth. Her eyes stared coldly at his own, and his blood seemed to freeze as he saw Death glaring through them.

------

Previous: Shipwrecked

Continues in: Through the Eye of the Blind