The Harrowed Half-Breed: A Tarnished Lands Story (Forgotten Woods Book 1)

A War for all Seasons

~Valara~

The feathered-folk had resided in the wildwoods for greater than a thousand years. They lived off nature's gifts while never upsetting the symbiosis. It was a sacred way of life passed down from each generation.

Soon the humans found value in the forest's wood and sought to cut down the very lands that provided for the folk. Human greed was a flaw that flowed deeply within their blood; they couldn't help it any more than they could help breathing or blinking.

While the humans pilfered more than necessary, the trees bled dark sap, showing their displeasure.

As the self-appointed wardens of the forest, the feathered-folk raged war against the humans. Peace was in their nature, though you wouldn't know it as of late. There hadn't always been conflict between the two bloodlines, although as of the last couple years, it was a daily struggle. With each fallen warrior, contention spoiled their kind nature and poisoned their disposition.

For the last ten years, the humans had brought in huge stones for the purpose of constructing a mighty castle inside the shrinking forest. Stumps scarred the landscape around the monstrosity, and the outer walls were almost fully constructed.

The folk's village consisted of intricately designed burrows, carved out around tree roots. The warmth of the earth protected them in the cold winters and kept them cool in the hot summers. They kept the roots moist and fed, giving back in the mutual exchange.

The feathered chieftess, Valara, whispered a prayer into a hidden artifact for safekeeping and tucked it away into her bag. She launched herself atop a fallen tree, standing tall and proud. "Victory fills our spirits with blood. Tonight we shall push them out with every drop of it. Make the humans remember our sharp faces, as we pierce their eyes with our arrows."

Famished, her folk let out a groan, not impressed with her valiant display. Lately, they were losing the campaign to drive out the invading forces. The human's numbers kept increasing. Fighting them was like cutting a worm in half.

"Their god is not the same as ours. They worship a mortal of flesh and bone, and a heart that bleeds. I have been gifted the knowledge of the man-god's weakness," Valara continued, her hands acting as annotations.

"Look around. The forest wants to die. The humans have already paved their victory," a feathered-folk archer piped up.

"I heard a whisper in the elemental winds. I alone am privy to the secret. It is ripe on my lips. I can taste it," she said, licking her lips.

Once a year, the hot winds from the east blew through the forest, cleansing all forgotten dreams, or that is what they believed. The feathered-folk felt this wind was sacred, and it had made its way through the forestscape three days prior.

Now, she had their attention. The war party took to their feet, demanding for the knowledge to be shared, like a pack of whiny pups.

"Prove to me that you're worthy of it, and it shall be yours," Valara said, wearing a sinister smile.

Screams shook the forest as the feathered-folk let loose their emotional spirits.

One folk couldn't control the power encapsulated inside himself. He slashed at a timid brother in arms, while howling like a wolf.

The mob descended upon his treason, each one making a hole where they could. Soon, every inch of his body had a weapon inserted in it, like a pincushion.

"Enough!" Valara yelled, her eyes panning back and forth eagerly. "It has begun."

All at once, they reclaimed their instruments from his body and blood misted through the air. They all took a deep breath, letting it enter their lungs, believing this to be a blessing from death.