In the blighted plains bordering South of Mezaxtal, remains a tribe for which it has been bestowed the land of the Nepatche.

Although Cemanamaru is known for its desolate landscapes, there the few surviving springs still parade the profuse growth and bountiful bushes of the old stories

One such wonder defying the world was the forest known as Neeschit Gowah.

Watching over this particular woodland stood the titular Neeschitsin.

A great pine, whose mountainous stature doubled the tallest trees in the central plains of all Cemanamaru, triple when compared to its own local kin.

“Ahchoo!

Choo!

chu!”

It was early morning and Asdza already found herself wadding beneath the lively foliage; with eddies of shedded pollen tickling her button nose.

Floating her tiny fingers before herself, she smoothly drew a glowing circle.

Then carefully filled the runes within the ring, finishing her spell glyph.

[WIND SPHERE]

She clapped her hands together

A burst of air swirls outwards, clearing her path and a large patch of lawn at its end.

Shuffling her feet she skipped forth toward a large boulder resting in front of the great pine.

She squatted down over a naked patch of dirt;

Running her sienna hands under mounds of golden powder which piled over the grass.

Her light brown clothing almost blended with the pale yellow floors.

Only the blue and black tassels dancing across her vestments stood out.

Asdza always looked forward to this part of the cycle: The arrival of blizzard spring.

It was the time of the year when the silent voices of the forest became discernible, its pleas more human.

Chirp

Chirp

Buzz

Bzzzzit

Beaks warbled through the air, legs scuttled along the soil.

She had been sitting at the foot of the pine’s lofty roots since late afternoon, and the yellow hue of the sun would soon dim.

Her presence next to the great tree resembled a pebble under the foot of the towering Ancestrals.

Its monumental branches stretched over the field, shielding the sprouting youth; whilst its invigorating pollen enveloped the woodlands with a golden down.

The feeling of drifting dust kissed her small thin hands and the tingling of its energy flowing through her senses.

Waves of powder veiled the churning breeze.

Like she envisioned the winters her southern friends regaled her about.

Although instead of complaints of frost and bitterness, this storm wafted with the pleasant hearth and sweetness of the Neeschit Gowah.

With hefty dispersing roots, it ruptured through the ancient stone walls and tiled floors which lay at its feet.

Breaching the underground cisterns.

The tilled soil of the ruins gushed with pristine water.

Whoooosh

Splash

The misting water crashed down the small ravines dug out by the giant roots.

Its streams raged into vein rapids feeding the forest’s desolate outskirts, and fighting off the creeping waste.

Such was the vitality of these havens, their mere vicinity sows life along the decaying plains.

HUFF……..SIGH…

With a peaceful smile, she exhaled.

Asdza could taste the crisp air in each breath.

Luckily she had managed to catch the fleeting serenity of the Neeschit Gowah.

Soon these subtle sounds would be drowned by the festive villagers.

Placing her hands on the floor, she cupped a pile of the mounded pollen and stuffed it into her light brown satchel.

Her rustling wafted the fragrance of the colorful bouquets into the air.

Today’s excursion was not for joy, nor practice for that matter.

Her mind reprimanded as she wiped the clingy spores into her deerskin tunic.

Asdza had reached the age of Initiate.

And just like in the tribes of Vanatuk, Exalation was imminent for every youngling.

She stood up, moving closer to the pine’s huge trunk.

At last though….

She smiled.

At last, she would soon find the meaning behind the utterances blooming from within the valleys and rivers of the Neeschitsin.

Standing still, she closed her eyes.

Listening to the lively forest, Asdza slowly revoked her attention from the surroundings.

One by one she blinded her senses.

From sound to sight to touch, disappeared.

Fragrance and flavor from both nose and pallet, gone.

Sloshing streams, whistling winds, and lush life became simply white noise.

Her body like a distant dream, now sunk into the recesses of her mind.

Within this absence, a palpitation remained.

Not hers though.

Another.

Nothing atypical to the mundane wanderings she regularly went on across the Neeschitsin forest.

On every solstice, when the gold clouds settle over the bramble and shrubs throughout, the same vision awaited.

And every year, on the same spot, on the same patch, the same shiny lump awaited.

For the last five cycles, she wondered.

Waiting for her chance.

Waiting for her moment.

Feeling the heartbeat resonate within her sinew and bone, she could almost picture the winding rapids, spewing across the tunnels formed along the tunneling ingrain.

With her body silent, her imagination articulated these vibrations into a network of fluorescent energy.

In the black canvas of her mind, energy flowed from the great pine into its soil, extended into intersecting branches.

The white glow of the pooling energy circulated into the most delicate of its fibers.

Like a river delta and the glowing streams formed an intricate subterranean web.

She could feel the roots burying deeper still.

Its rhythm in accordance with the Neeschitsin’s pulse.

With eyes still shut, she tilted her head toward the ground, spotting a cluster of energy directly under one of its arching roots.

Placing her hand firmly over a large rounded boulder, Asdza knelt on the floor.

She opened her eyes, brushing the grass over where she had spotted the glowing mass.

Plunging her hands back through the black dirt, she scooped handfuls of leaves to the side, careful not to bruise whatever the blob could be.

Her tiny fingers tingled as she shoveled the dusty mounds away.

With every till the funk of moss and mildew brushed her nostrils.

“AAaachoo-aaaAA-choo!”

The uncontrollable sneeze ceased her search.

Before digging further she closed her eyes once more and listened for the pulsating hum.

Its loudness grew as she excavated further under the prodding root.

As she heaped one last fistful of soil to reveal a bulb over a cot of gleaming mycelia.

Shroomies?

Her confused face questioned her senses.

“That’s it?”

She leaned forth, plucking a globule from the cluster.

“A BIIIG shroomy…”

Barely managing to squeeze its bouncy flesh inside her childish palm.

For the first seven cycles of her life or the ones she can remember, she could never figure out why her older siblings would hunt for these globs.

As resplendent as their energy might be they were just, for the lack of a better term, fungus turnips.

Closing her eyes once again, she held the puff in front of herself.

Even detached, its shine fluctuated with the rhythm of its buried sire.

The palpitation was there.

This was the other heart she would hear in her solitary outings at the foot of Neeschitsin.

Peaceful and vigorous.

BANG

BANG

BANG

A clamorous noise shattered the calm air hanging over the trees.

Gasp

Asdza swiftly stored the turnip in her deerskin satchel spilling her pollen.

Instantly she shuffled next to the Neeschitsin’s hilling root, inching ever closer over the hedge.

Between the metallic clangs, there were strange snorts, a long whining underlain with the resonance of a beastly rib cage.

Along with the stomping of what she recognized as hooves.

A Shakoshke.

She thought as her tipped toes slowly sunk into the tender soil.

The top slivers of her eyes could only catch what would reluctantly be called a peek.

Reaching for her satchel she pulled the loose knot and emptied its contents close to her spot.

Folding the satchel, she placed it where she stood,

Jumping on the makeshift stool.

Off in the distance, ten yards to the west, she observed two unusual men stumbling through the dense brush.

Clad in metal plates.

Bright hair like the fibers of corn, with staves that cry a thunderous roar and pierce with pebbles of steel.

The overgrowth between the forest jostled their armaments like instruments.

Not far ahead of them, a huge deer trampled around, struggling to regain its footing.

Asdza’s eyes widened as she had never seen a Shakoshke of such composition.

The hide was of more orange than tanned, its antlers of a pink-reddish hue; as opposed to the usual granite-crested, chestnut stags that lived within her tribe’s borders.

From what she could tell the rampaging deer was a bull; By the looks of the thrashing antlers goring the nearby trunks.

Its large cloven feet hewing the surrounding boulders.

Two round holes had ruptured through its flank.

“How’d the bloody beast get up frum dat?!”

The blonder man on the left joked.

“I frekin gottem right ina birds nest.”

With a yakking billow, its body emitted copper-colored energy.

The shimmering mist drifted close to the ground.

Its currents rushed towards the titan’s planted feet, wrapping up its legs and converging unto its skull.

“Shot yer yapping n reload the dam rifle!”

The brass-haired one ordered.

Asdza saw as the men panicked to search their person.

Meanwhile, the Shakoshke slammed its granite hooves into a resting boulder.

It rammed its horns downward, fragmenting the bedrock.

The gathered energy burst with the splintering bolder.

A mystical force swirled the shards midair, the magical energy fusing them into a crown of stalagmites, encasing the Shakoshke’s regal horns.

BANG

BANG

BANG

In rapid succession, three bullets pierced the Shakoshke’s abdomen.

The pale men stared in disbelief and dismay, as the pulverized stone coalesced with the titan’s energy.

Rapidly seeping into its open wounds and mending its broken body.

BLAAAAAUGHH!

With a fierce bellow, the wild animal swung its head in defiance, causing its encrusted antlers to launch a volley of shingles straight into its assailants.

Clink clink clink clink

The showering rubble pelted their armor ineffectively.