Nars Huntress
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EDIT :x : Char: Nars Huntress
Login: mirrorpoolKestrel, Hadam’s daughter, was born on the day the morning star returned in the year the great blizzard fell upon the plains. The shaman had read her parents the omens early in the fall. A boy, he said, born in the winter chill, strong and steady, a silent hunter, a faithful warrior. The tent filled with silence when the midwife announced the truth. They had not prepared a girl’s name.
It was nine days before Hadam brought a name to Olma and their daughter. He had been out hunting unsuccessfully. The snow still covered the plains. The only thing that had moved had been a kestrel, who had been too far and too small to shoot, but who had made one swoop to the ground to catch a field mouse. Kestrel became her name, Kess to family and her tribe.
When she was four, she notched her first arrow and let it fly when no one was looking. It fell short of her target, a tree four yards away.
When she was six, orcs attacked. Her mother handed her a knife as she buried her daughter beneath thick fur blankets. “Don’t them hear you breathe.”
When she was eleven, the older warriors taught her to shoot as ever Featherlight her age was.
When she was thirteen, the orcs pushed their way deep into the camp. Kess had climbed into a tree with her bow. She did not shake in fear until an orc sank an axe into the trunk. Many arrows filled his hide before a sword took his life.
When she was fourteen, she shot a field mouse from atop a low cliff. No one was looking.
When she was fifteen, the dark week came. She was taken to the wise-woman’s tent. She was bathed in a perfumed oil and given a cup of spiced wine. Wearing a mask of a she-wolf, the wise-woman danced and rang silver bells. That night a hen was sacrificed to Selune.
When she was sixteen, she confirmed her first kill of an orc. From atop a hill she had shot him down, only her and her arrows. Her father let her sip some of his ale in celebration. It tasted worse than winter bath water.
When she was seventeen, she fell in love with a young man of her tribe. She dropped a pitcher down the well at the sound of his voice. He was promised to another. If he knew, he said nothing.
When she was eighteen, she sat hidden in the tall grass on a hilltop. Her namesake flew high above the plains. She followed its path with a notched arrow. The skald had called the tribes together. Some of her people scorned the idea. Others expected to profit from it. Others still hoped the old ways could yet be restored. Kess knew much would be gained and lost whether the tribe took action or not. Passing through Jiyyd, she overheard many things she didn’t yet understand. She knew it took more than a good bow and steady aim to feed a tribe. A hunter had to know her prey. It seemed to her a different sort of prey was upon them, a different threat. She would need to learn its sign if she was to be of use to her people.
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