"Tail" of a Templar (EQ2 based)

[dragonkin]

((This is going to be a continuing work until I feel the story is done, based on my main Everquest 2 character. The history sited by the grandfather is in fact from the actual Lore and Legend book: The History of the Kerra from inside the game. I will update as often as the story comes to me so check back whenever, and I hope you enjoy!))
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"Tell me again, Papa! Pleeeeaaase, Papa?"; Zemi sat at her grandfather's knee, anxiously awaiting the retelling of the story she'd heard at least a hundred times before. They were sitting by the little shop at the harbor on the Island of Refuge, the place they'd called home since she could remember, watching the waves roll lazily up onto the shore. She gazed adoringly up into the kind face smiling down at her, and thought again how much they resembled each other; light colored fur spattered with swirling patterns of darker brown stripes, long silvery whiskers, and the same crystal blue eyes, the pupils mere slits to ward off some of the brightness of the day. She fiddled with her long tail as she waited for her grandfather to begin the story of their wonderful race: the Kerra.

The elder Kerran looked down into the eager face of his grandaughter and chuckled softly to himself. She has her mother's eyes, he thought with just a pang of sorrow. And her father's ears. Could it have been just 8 years ago that they had landed here? Lost and hungry, with barely a gold piece to sustain them, he had had to take over the rearing of the little cub. Zemi's mother, Zemaki, his only daughter left, had been peering over the bow of the ship at some especially tasty flounders in the rough seas around them, when she was wiped from the face of Norrath in the blink of an eye as the wave took her. Determined not to lose his young wife, Zemi's father bravely dove in after her, but soon he himself was also swallowed by the sea. Searches were organized, and for days they looked for them-but neither were ever seen or heard from again.

The seas were much less forgiving back then. It was shortly after the great Shattering, and the waters were just barely passable by the few passenger ships that were left, scooping up refugees from across Norrath, and making shipments for the Far Seas Trading Company. A lesser man would have found a suitable maiden to look after the baby cub's caring, but not Jaraoki. He arrived on the docks with Zemi swaddled in his daughter's travel cape, and set about finding them a proper home, determined to care for his smallest and last bit of family.

"Papa?" The small curious voice brought him back from the past. He looked down at his granddaughter, now 8 years old, lap full of parchments and scrolls. The small tufts of fur at the tips of her ears twitched with the salty breeze from off the ocean. Her eyes were wide with expectation, her lessons forgotten for the time being. What was it she had wanted? The story, of course, as always.

"Alright, dear heart", he sighed at her. "But just once today, then it's back to your studies." With a delighted squeal, Zemi set about neatly rolling her lesson scrolls and shifting herself so she could better see Jaraoki. After several moments a raise of one of his eyebrows got her to settle herself so that he could begin.

"In the long-ago", he began, "long before the Shattering, before you and me and even many elves were born, the tall rocks stood proud on the hills of Odus. The winds whispered to the rocks 'Come and play!' But the rocks said 'We are rocks, we cannot move, we cannot come and play.' So the winds blew, shaping the rocks and softening their edges. And so formed the first of our great race-the first of the Kerra.

"The first Kerra were scattered across Odus by the wind, and there were many fights, until Kejaan who was wiser than the rest, united the many different tribes. Many things did the wind tell Kejaan, and he passed along this knowledge to all those around him. Then the Erudites came, and whether they meant it or not, brought walls and disease and death to the Kerran. They stepped upon the rocks who were our ancestors, and pushed the Kerra from the lands of their forefathers."

"That's when the winds came again isn't that right, Papa?" Zemi piped up. "That's when it took them up to the moon...up to Luclin?"

Smiling proudly down at his granddaughter, Jaraoke nodded, "That is right. The winds took them to Luclin, and those Kerran were then known as the Vah Shir, named for Kejaan's son, Vah Kerrath. Then one day the winds changed; they shrieked and cried in pain and yearning. It tore apart the mountains and woods, and stirred the depths of the seas. Luclin was burst in two, sending it's children to live in the cities of men. Inside the city walls the winds are muted, and we can no longer hear it's call. But one day, dear child, we shall stand beyond the walls, and we shall listen to the winds, and the rocks will once again know our names, and the Kerra shall once again take their place in the world. So you see, this is why we must always listen to the wind, child. The wind is our mother, and our father, and will always tell us where our paths will take us.

"But for the moment, dear heart, you must get back to your studies while there is still light enough to see by. The temple priests will not be pleased if you return to them on the morrow unprepared."

Zemi hugged her grandfather tight and, taking one last lingering look out across the ocean, unrolled her scrolls and parchments once more to finish her translation of the minor healing spells from her latest lessons at the temple. Tomorrow she would hand in her translated spell scrolls for approval by the priests there, and if they were satisfactory, would then be allowed to scribe them into her spell book for practicing.

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The next morning dawned warm and clear, with the softest of breeze drifting in from the Southwest across the island, bringing with it all the familiar smells of the Summer Solstice. Zemi laid awake in her straw bed listening to the sounds and goings on outside the hut she shared with her grandfather. The ocean birds just waking from their nights' rest and getting ready to hunt for fish squawking and cawing to each other, the young children from the hut across the way engaging in a noisy game of hide and seek, and the rush of the ocean waves along the shoreline told her it was a new day. She gazed up at the ceiling and grinned at the way the sunlight and shadows danced together to their own silent symphony.

It wasn't a grand house, just a small hut made of worked branches, hides and rawhide rope, with small windows cut in the walls to let in some light and a bit of breeze. Most of the wood furniture was hand-made by Jaraoki himself in the island workshops. Nay it wasn't lavish, but it was enough for the two Kerra to live comfortably and happily. She gazed slowly around the room admiring the skill with which her grandfather used to create such tasteful pieces: the small desk and chair where she could do her homework, and her dressing table. Each piece was held together by dove-tail joints and other master craftsmanship, with intricate carvings depicting Kerra, animals, holy symbols and family crests. On her dresser was a sketching of a happy young Kerra couple;the male was strikingly handsome with his dark ears and muzzle, and the female looked very much like Zemi and Jaraoke, striped and blue-eyed. Both were smiling out at her from their frame as though they hadn't a care in the world. Hanging across the back of the chair was her mother's travel cape, the very one that kept Zemi warm and safe when her and her grandfather arrived on the island when she was just a baby cub.

She rose out of bed and crossed the room to caress the soft flowing material. She picked it up and draped it across her shoulders, tying it at her neck. It was still too big on her, and she had thought for sure she had grown enough this past year to be able to wear it properly. Yet it still dragged the ground trailing slightly behind her as she moved a few steps to examine it in the mirror. One day Mama, she thought with a sigh as she untied the sash and placed the cape carefully back on the chair.

"Zemi?" Jaraoke called her from the tiny kitchen. "Come child, you've lingered long enough, come and have some breakfast before it's cold!"

"Coming, Papa!" she called back, and busied herself getting ready for the day. She dressed quickly then gathered all her parchments, scrolls, fresh quills and ink wells, and put them into her satchel. As she pushed aside the bearskin hide covering the doorway between her room and the rest of the hut, savory smells wafted to her keen nose: meat frying, fresh brewed coffee, eggs sizzling, and fresh fruit in a bowl set on the ornately carved dining table. "Good morning, Papa," see said cheerfully as she bent to kiss his cheek.

"Indeed it is a good morning when greeted with such happiness," he answered, smiling fondly. He was sitting at the dining table sipping at his coffee, and examining his work orders for the day. "Another boat has come overnight, bringing many new refugees that will need tending to today. One poor soul barely had clothes left on his body after battling some very rough storms at sea. A young half-elf I believe.....it looks like I'm going to be gone late this evening Zemi. Will you be ok here on your own dear?"

"Yes, yes Papa", she replied between bites of egg and sips of her juice. "Today is my long day at the temple. Oh I do hope my spells are correct, I worked so hard on them last evening! Anyways Mystic Shamus is going to start on the pros and cons of all the different sorts of priests today. He said by the week's end I should be able to tell him which I hope to be one day, even though I've told him about a hundred times already! I don't think he likes that I'm not picking his sect, but Templar Kaliel said not to worry about it. I don't know, what do you think Papa? I've always been fond of Templars--I think they can do so much more than the others. Oh! Not to mean you can't Papa....I...erm...." Zemi blushed, as she was very fond of her grandfather, and was ashamed that she may have insulted the old tom.

Jaraoki simply laughed and waved a mighty paw at her. "Not to worry my dear. You must do what your heart tells you to do. Walk upon the path that is most favorable for you. If you are happy with yourself, then you will make others happy as well. If you are to succeed as a priestess you must be able to perform your rites with skill and grace, which you can achieve only if you are doing what you feel is right." Jaraoki turned back to his work orders, but not before he caught the shy, satisfied smile from his granddaughter. She will make a fine Templar, he thought as he drained the last of his coffee. I a Mystic, her mother a Fury, and now Zemi becoming a Templar. A long line of healers she has behind her, the gods will surely be pleased with her decision.

[dragonkin]

The Mystic's Lesson

"This word here is incorrect......and here, the accent goes above the "A" not the "N". Still, I've seen worse translations in my time here. Now please, fix your corrections and begin gathering your supplies, we're heading outdoors today." Surely this was Mystic Shamus's idea of a compliment. He was a huge barbarian, standing well over 6 feet tall, and usually wearing a kilt of his family's colors, and some bear skins around his shoulders, or sometimes in the form of a hat he'd made himself. He carried with him a long knarled staff of oak with the skull of some animal he'd slain in a ritual mounted on the end of it. In each of the eye sockets was mounted a brilliant sapphire, each emitting a faint blue glow around it. His face and body tatooed with tribal looking markings, along with the mere size of him, made him look very formiddable, especially when scrutinizing over some poor student's homework. This day that student happened to be Zemi, and she hurried to do as she was told.

She gathered the last of her things and headed toward the door where Shamus was waiting for her. She glanced over at Templar Kaliel, who was of Dwarven-kind, and Fury Motama, the Half-elven priestess, on her way out; Kaliel gave her a wink and a slight smile as she passed, which gave Shamus cause to scoff lightly to himself. It was no big secret he would prefer to have at least one of the three students in the temple follow his lead and become a Mystic. So far there were two boys, an Erudite and a High Elf, both wanting to become Furies, and there was Zemi, who made it perfectly clear that she preferred the way of the Templar. But then this was the week they would have to choose their holy paths...there was still time. And so he intended to give each student plenty of one-on-one tutelage with him throughout the week; perhaps he could convince one of them to become his pupil, otherwise he would have a painfully free schedule without much pay.

The student and teacher started their journey outdoors in silence. Zemi had long ago learned that with Shamus it was best to let him start the lesson and not ask too many questions, for his patience was thin, and was lost easily. They went up the ramp from the temple towards the large stone archway leading to the rest of the island. The guards nodded in salutation as they passed through the barricades and continuted along the wall into the more wild area. "Be attentive to your surroundings" was the only thing he had said to her upon their departure and she began to take mental notes of what she saw along the way. The occasional deer grazing nearby, starting slightly as they walked through the grass, a mama bear with her cubs, even a goblin or two going about their nasty little business, but they scrambled out of sight of the huge barbarian.

They walked on for an unusually long time, in fact the sun had just reached it's peak in the afternoon sky when Zemi broke down and decided to ask where it was they were going. It was just then that Shamus stopped by a large waterfall near the center of the island. Zemi was taken aback by the shear beauty and power of this place. Everything sparkled with tiny droplets of mist from the waterfall as it crashed into the rocks at it's base, and tiny rainbows could be seen arching out from behind the spray creating a wonderful magical effect. She had never been this far from the little hut and the temple before, spending most of her days close to home or at the docks with her grandfather.

"We will study here today," came the gruff voice, breaking her unending gaze. He pointed to one of the large, dryer rocks poking out of the grass and Zemi promptly sat down and opened her satchel. "You will not be needing that here. We are here today to study life and it's workings, to discuss the spirit world, and to commune with nature and it's wonders, not to scribble on parchment.

"Spirits abound in this place. All around us they whisper their stories, and grant us the wisdom to use the power of healing. The spirits are not only those who have already passed, but those beings and animals who are here still." At this he lifted the skins around his arm so that Zemi could see the cruel, white, jagged scars running in odd patterns along his skin. They looked as though they were very deliberately carved so that they would not heal well, and Zemi barely managed to conceal her gasp. Like papa's, she thought to herself. "It is through sacrifice and hard work that we mystics are able to tap this power and form it into raw mana for the purpose of healing and strengthening our allies, and weakening and slowing those who would oppose us. Created by a crude but holy ritual, these scars are a tribute to that sacrifice--blood given to the spirits for their continued gift of energy.

"It is no wonder then that so few students along the path of holiness choose the way of the mystics. It takes strength and courage, loyalty and sacrifice to maintain such a strong bond with the spirit world. One must meditate deeply each day and reflect upon the gift given to them, and do not ever take it for granted. For what the spirits give unto us, they can also take away from those who are not worthy.

"Would you be up to this task, Zemi, of the Kerran race? Could you direct yourself down the path of greatest resistance and still have the power to steer your own course? Your grandfather, Jaraoki, whom I've seen in temple several times, also communes with the spirits does he not?"

"Y-yes sir, he is a Mystic, like you, sir." It was the first time she had been permitted to speak all morning, and her voice sounded hoarse and cracked.

"Funny you would be so set in following the Templar's path instead of one that should be so familiar to you. Jaraoke is a fine man and devoted priest. Let us see if he has taught you anything. Tell me, what did your eyes see along our way up here?"

Struggling to remember that which she had tried so hard to commit to memory as they walked along she began recounting the sights of the island. "Well, there were deer, and a few bears, quite a lot of vegetation. I noticed little men also, I think they were goblins..my grandfather told me about them. I...I didn't like to see them." She looked down at her feet.

"And why?"

"Because they looked foreign, almost unnatural, like they did not belong there. They dirtied the area just being there, I...I can't explain it right" She frowned in frustration--she did not know the words to describe how it made her feel seeing the goblins in such beautiful, natural surroundings.

Shamus smiled slightly. "It is because you felt the spirits, weeping at the destruction and chaos the goblins bring to this land. Their fires burn the trees, their arrows kill the animals of the land, their digging scars the ground, and the spirits mourn in sorrow. The goblins know nothing of sacrifice and giving of themselves. That is why you felt this way. If you were to train as a Mystic you would be able to recognize this, and pay your homage as a pennance, to show you also have sorrow for these things, and the spirits would grant you a gift of power and righteousness." Shamus looked up at the sun and sighed. "The hour grows late. Come, let us head back to temple now. I wish for you to reflect upon all I've said this day on our walk back, and upon our return to temple, practice your meditation and try to hear the spirits that surround you."

"Yes sir," she replied, overwhelmed.

That night she dreamed of blood, spirits, goblin fire and waterfalls.

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The Fury's Lesson

A full day had gone by since Zemi's lesson with Mystic Shamus, during which time she did as she was instructed: to reflect upon all of his teachings from this season, and search her soul and try to find that connection to the spirit world. So far the best she'd done was give herself a good headache. Shamus would no doubt think this a lack of talent. But, Zemi didn't have to worry about that today. Today she was going to temple to meet with Fury Motama, for her next all-day lesson.

She had to admit she was more than a little excited for this lesson, for her own mother had been a fury in her time. She hadn't had much tutoring from the temple's only priestess this season, and she was looking forward to experiencing her teaching method. Renudai, the High-elf boy in her class was with the fury two days past, and he had told her brief highlights from his lesson with her. Of course his may have been different since he would be studying with Motama only next season. He would be with the templar this day, while Aqielin, her Erudite classmate, would be with the mystic.

Zemi kissed her grandfather farewell and started out towards the temple. It was rather chilly that morning, and the clouds in the sky threatened rain as she walked the familiar path past a huge stone archway. As she got closer to the temple she could see the tall slender outline of Aqielin walking with Shamus, no doubt heading towards the waterfall she had been taken to two days prior.

She pushed open the huge maple wood doors of the church, and as always, looked towards Templar Kaliel's chambers to wave a brief greeting, but the chamber door was already shut, and a light could be seen coming from the space under the door. Ren must already be in there, she thought. I hope he gives me an idea of his lesson in there, I don't want to be so horribly unprepared...

Zemi walked towards Fury Motama's chambers, eager to get on with the day's lessons. She arrived at the heavy wooden door adorned with a wreath made of twigs, leaves, and cherry blossoms and rapped lightly on it. Hearing no reply, she knocked harder and the door swung open slightly on it's hinges, revealing a room dimly lit by a fire in the stone hearth. On it's walls were paintings of forests with streams and paths, great thick trees which bore wide wooden platforms and rope bridges connecting them. On the sturdy bookshelves were ageless tomes and scrolls telling of an infinate number of things; there were creature catalogues, maps, entire sections for each race of Norrath and the lands they inhabited. Against the far wall under the window was a large heavy oak table which was bare save for a single piece of parchment held down by a hand-carved wooden bowl. Zemi moved the bowl and read the neat flowing script of the note.

Zemi,

I hope this note finds you well. Class will be out of doors today. I have gone on ahead to prepare my lesson for you by the large redwood tree in the small clearing on the Westerly side of the island. I shall entrust you to meet me there before the sun completes it's ascent into the noon sky. You shall bring with you 1 mortar and pestle, 1 empty vial, 1 charcoal pencil for sketching along with clean parchment, an open mind and an eagerness to learn.

I await your arrival,

Fury Motama

I have to go there by myself? Zemi thought with a twinge of panic. Sure she'd been there before, but it was always in the company of a teacher, or her grandfather, never alone. There were far more dangerous things on the island than just goblins--there were bandits, and their wolf hounds trained to do their bidding. Zemi left the chambers and looked around the temple again. Surely there must be some mistake...she must be meeting me back here. But she re-read the note twice-no, she was to meet the fury at the large tree. For a fleeting moment she thought about going to get Jaraoke and tell him, maybe he would take her. She thought he might become angry at the thought, and she did not want to make him upset with her teacher. I think I can do this. I'll stay along the ledges and hope that nothing sees me sneaking by.

And so she began her journey into the wild, the rising sun in the east to her back, and pulling her hood tighter around her head against the chilly morning air. The areas closest to the civilized parts of the island were still fairly hospitable, kept that way by the guards posted at the gates. But as Zemi walked under the second stone archway the underbrush became more and more thick, and wanted to snag her in her clothes and fur. The deer and small goblins gave way to more formidable beings: bandits, wolves and the occasional lion or two could be seen going about their daily business. She kept close to the tall stone cliffs that lined the area and tried her best to be inconspicuous, and was starting to see the outline of the next stone archway which would lead her to the large clearing with the redwood tree when her luck ran out.

She had dropped her satchel while reaching for an apple from one of the many trees in the area, and was scooping up it's contents before the wind took them. The racket must have stirred the curiosity of a nearby group of lionesses on the hunt, for they suddenly became very interested in her every move. Sensing she was being watched, Zemi looked up in time to see one of them in mid-pounce coming for her. She barely had time for a surprised gasp when from her right came a loud growling roar, and another lioness came, claws extended, and knocked the other from the air. Zemi stood frozen in fear as the 4 other lionesses pounced on this new attacker. She could not differentiate one from the other as enormous paws swiped and loud angry growls emitted from the fray. Seeing her chance, Zemi grabbed up her satchel and started running toward the archway while they were occupied with eachother, hoping for at least a head start once they realized she had fled. So she was not there to see two of the lions gasping for breath as clouds of insects swarmed around them; she was not there to hear the crack of lightning as two more were struck down and lay charred upon the ground.

She was, however, aware that she was being chased. She struggled to pick up her pace, pushing herself into a sprint. If she could just make it to the tree she would be safe....

"Zemi!!!" She heard her name being called, loudly. Fury Motama!!! was her next frantic thought. It was her voice! It had to be! "Zemi!!" The archway was looming just up ahead, no more than fifty feet. She could hear and feel the pouncing footsteps of the lion behind her, gaining on her. I need to make it to the tree! I'll be ok if I can just make it to the tree! Zemi pushed herself harder, trying to ignore the stitch growing more painful in her side as she went. Her lungs were on fire from panting in the chilly morning air, but she kept pumping her legs, desperate to make it to safety.

"Zemi stop!!!" She turned her head to look in the direction the voice was coming from, certain that this time it was behind her, and her foot caught in one of the many tree roots that jutted dangerously up from the ground. She felt herself flying through the air almost in slow motion, and she craned her neck wildly, trying to see how close her attacker was to her. She landed hard just on the other side of the archway and was trying to scramble back to her feet when she felt an enormous paw on her back. Zemi let out a cry of terror, knowing she was done for. "Zemi!!! Good gods girl, are you alright??" came the panting voice of Motama.

Zemi turned onto her back and there sat before her, breathing heavily as she was, a very large lioness. Had it just spoken to her?? It just sat there looking at her, as if checking her over. It's mouth was open, exposing a large red tongue, and massive, sharp, white teeth that looked like they could easily crush her skull in.

"Merlin's beard but you run fast!" It was obvious now it was actually talking. "Zemi? Zemi relax it is only me! It's Motama! Rest easy child!" Zemi stared doubtfully at her. "Don't believe me, look at my eyes." Curious now, Zemi looked into the lion's eyes...one green, one brown. "A real lion would have eyes the color of fresh honey," she said, "and normally would not be speaking to you," she added with a touch of mockery. "Oh stop staring girl! You know what I am! You know what Furies are capable of. Come on now to the tree and sit down. Catch your breath, then we'll start our lesson."

Once they were under the shade of the enormous redwood and had both caught their breath, Zemi was finally able to take in some of her surroundings. It really was a beautiful place, with it's lush vegetation, cool mossy floor and the distant sound of the stream babbling it's way along it's banks. Now and then a wisp floating by would catch her attention, it's light playing with the shadows left by the tree's huge branches.

"Now, take this basket and find for me examples of fenugreek and wolfsbane, then gather a bit of moss and some water from the stream. Quickly now, our little adventure has set us back a goodly amount of time," came the Fury's instructions, now back in her Half-Elf form and dusting off her clothes. She was a short woman, short even by Half-Elf standards, with messy hair striped deep red and golden yellow. She wore a necklace make of thin leather and had attached to it the teeth of several differnt animals, and a hawk's feather behind her ear. She also sported several different piercings in various places about her ears and face, that glittered in the sunlight as she moved, preparing the day's lesson.

The herbs were quite easy for Zemi to find, although she did have a couple water sprites to contend with at the stream when she went to fetch some water. When she arrived back at the tree in the clearing she could see Motama had prepared a small fire over which she had arranged a make-shift spit from some branches, and had a blackened iron kettle resting neatly just over the flames.

"Ah good, wolvesbane, fenugreek, oh Zemi dear you'll need a bit more moss for this, there you are that's enough. Please pour your water into the pot then add your green ingredients." Zemi poured the water in the already hot kettle and heard the hiss as it hit the hot metal. Once the steam had cleared, she carefully placed her other ingredients in, and stepped back a bit as it sizzled and spat from the top. Motama pulled a small vial out from her leather pouch; it contained some sort of liquid, very thick and very dark. "This, Zemi, is blood from a wolf, procured just yesterday, and congealed under the full moon," she expained as she opened the cork and slowly poured the entire vial into the kettle. At this the contents spat and hissed even louder, and the steam turned blood red for a moment, and then a brilliant white. "This will have to steep for exactly one hour, during which time I wish for you to watch the steam, and please sketch any unique shapes you see inside it."

Zemi watched the steam as she was told, being jolted awake a time or two by a soft tap of a branch from Motama. Just when she was sure the hour had to be over by now, she did notice something different in the rising fumes. Within the steam she thought she fathomed a wolf's head, rearing back to howl; and just as quickly it was gone again. Hardly believing her eyes were not playing tricks on her, she stared transfixed at the still rising steam a moment, then quickly went to work sketching as best she could on her parchment. When Motama came to oversee her progress she was nearly done with her drawing, and when she was satisfied with her work, she handed the parchment to Motama.

"This is really very good Zemi, I see your catnaps did not cause you to miss the event." There was a slight kidding to her voice, though it was still kind. "As you have seen the spirit of the animal whose blood is in this potion is still strong in it's presence, and is what will lend it it's power. Hand me your empty vial please dear so I can siphon off the liquid." The potion hissed as it touched the side of the little cauldron as Motama slowly poured the dark red contents into the vial and corked it. "This, Zemi, is called Spirit of the Wolf. It will grant you swifter run speed for exactly half of one hour after it is drank. It's one example of the many different spells you would cast as a Fury to aide yourself and your allies, and seeing as you are headed into the Cleric field, I wanted you to have this as a reminder of our lessons together this season. Keep it with you and use it well!

"Look around you Zemi. All around you there is nature. The animals and winds and even the folliage that surrounds you all coexist in a delicate balance that both feeds off eachother, and helps each other flourish. This dandelion for example, it's seeds ready to find an earthy home, can do nothing to spread it's offspring on it's own, until the wind comes," and she blew the seeds gently, causing them to fly and flutter about, "to carry them away to root themselves in the ground to grow. A deer will eat of the grass, and perhaps we will hunt the deer and have food, and when we die, our bodies are returned to the earth and become of the same grass. It is this life cycle that we base our magic off of. The forces of nature are what give Furies our power to heal our allies and smite our foes. Harnessing the power of the wind, and the spirits of the plants and animals around us, our magic is natural, Druidic, and one of the most ancient forms of magic still used today. Nature is never-ending, thus is our power never-ending. Take with you an appreciation for nature in it's purest forms, and what you take from nature, use, and what you don't use, give back to nature in some small way. In this way you can still be a part of this magic on your journey through life. Come, the hour is late and we have a long walk back to the temple before sundown."

That night, Zemi dreamt of wolves howling, swirling leaves, treetops swaying in the breeze. And she dreamt of her mother, who looked so like herself, and awoke the next morning feeling happy, with her mother's cloak wrapped tight around her.