Unveiled Shadows: Tales of a Lich

Chapter 4 - Whispers & War

"Come the morrow's eve, this fine catch shall grace our tables," Celyn noted, his tone carrying a hint of advice rather than criticism. "You've returned too late today, dear sister, for us to enjoy it now. It must hang overnight."

"I would've returned more swiftly, had I not missed my first shot, forcing me to bide my time through the morn' until a second opportunity presented itself."

"What? You miss?." he said his tone dripping in sarcasm.

"With all that is graceful in this grove, shove your words where the sun doesn't touch."

Celyn laughed, trying to catch his breath. He offered an understanding smile and nodded, saying, "Well, as our ancestors have taught us, 'Tis better to arrive late than not at all.'"

"Where might our esteemed leaders be, then?" Gwenitha inquired, her curiosity matching her boldness.

"They've gone to meet with the other kin," Celyn replied, "Our father spoke of tidings from the southern lands."

"Aye, as is often the case," Gwenitha responded, her gaze fixed upon the distant horizon. Her parents were regular riders across the Glade, fulfilling their roles as Mathair and Athair of the Leafsong clan—the very heartbeat and essence of the Leafsong clan.

Gwenitha entered the family's cottage, carefully hanging her bow and quiver on the designated hooks mounted on the wall. "Ahhh...finally," she sighed with relief,

freeing her feet from the confines of her boots and relishing the sensation of being barefoot on the moss-covered cottage floor. She proceeded to wash up in a bowl crafted from a solid leaf, perfectly shaped to cradle water.

The cottage itself consisted of a single room; following elven tradition, there were no bedrooms. Instead, it was customary for the elves to sleep beneath the stars, in harmony with the plants and creatures of the forest. A central table, adorned with six chairs crafted from branches and various plants, took pride of place. The tabletop, made of solid wood, featured intricate carvings depicting the heritage of the Leafsong clan.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the siblings concluded their supper—a delightful combination of elven bread infused with nuts and fruits gathered from the forest, complemented by a tea carefully blended from an assortment of herbs, instilling a serene sense of calm and mental clarity. Like a content fawn with a belly full of milk, Gwenitha gracefully reclined on a soft patch of grass just outside the cottage, her gaze fixed upon the wondrous cosmos overhead. The celestial expanse pulsated with life, mirroring the vibrancy of the surrounding forest.

The soothing symphony of crickets and occasional owl hoots enveloped Gwenitha in a tranquil embrace, coaxing her into a peaceful slumber before she was even aware of it.

The following morning, Gwenitha awoke to Prydwen's fervent cries, echoing through the air, "Mother! Father!" from the heights of a neighboring tree. Springing up like a fresh blade of grass, she cleared the drowsiness from her eyes. As she stood, the figures of her parents came into view in the distance—her father perched atop a colossal timber wolf with majestic antlers resembling a formidable stag the size of a horse, while her mother rode an Ibex akin to Friota. However, this Ibex boasted horns adorned with a captivatingly unique pattern.

The commotion stirred Celyn from his slumber, and with youthful vigor, he jumped up and started to sprint towards his parents. "Oh, he hasn't grown up at all," Gwenitha thought, matching his enthusiasm as she began to sprint towards them as well.

"Whoah...easy...Conri," he said as his wolf came to a quick stop, sliding in the dirt and panting happily. "Conri!" Prydwen shouted as he dashed towards the giant wolf. Conri's face lit up like a puppy and began licking Prydwen relentlessly as Prydwen giggled just as fiercely.