The Blood of Alchemy

Chapter 1: Hunting Trip

Thirty years later… The village of Ficus.

The little hut was crowded. Three small beds took up most of the space. The remainder was taken up by wooden drawers covered in carvings of animals, and other trinkets Gad had made. There were mugs, arrows - some still half fletched. There were small bone fishing hooks, and jars of oil and herbs and spices. It may have been a small home, but it felt exactly that; home.

In summer - which it currently was - the doors and windows were opened up, and a soothing breeze came through from the shaded canopy of green that surrounded the small village. In the winter, they were all boarded back up to protect from the snow, and lit with oil lamps to provide extra warmth - though body heat was usually enough. There were no need for stoves, dinner was held around the nightly communal fires and cleaned out nightly so not to attract wild animals. The privy was kept far off, to avoid drifting smells.

"It's mine now, unless you can get it from me!" The boy teased as he held his cousin's quiver just out of her reach, leaning back as far as he against the wall of the little mud hut, doing his very best to taunt her.

It was working, she was getting quite annoyed. She could feel her lip tightening like it did when she got riled up.

His name was Tharon and her name was Thalia - Tally for short. They were both of an age - in their fourteenth years, and had always been close. Too close. They shared the same last name, had always lived in the same forest town, and had always grown up in the same wooden huts.

The two were supposed to be getting ready for a hunting trip out into the woods with Tally's father, Gadriver, who Tharon called Uncle Gad. They had only been alone for ten minutes before they started bickering. It was never insulting or spiteful, but mostly childish playful pestering, and rarely got out of hand. Besides, spending so much time together was bound to lead to quarrelling on occasion - or nearly anytime they were alone - as Gad would say, so he did not blame them for the galling.

Tharon was slender, with bright blue eyes and tousled strawberry blonde hair that swept across his forehead. He dressed in a tan deerskin tunic, belted about the waist with brown leather. He kept a brooch of hematite, marked with a strange symbol that looked like balancing scales, fastened on its right breast. On his feet he wore brown moccasins with the slightest tip of a point to them at the toes, usually tattered and muddy from running around the forests with Tally.

The dyed tunic and hose were very common among the forest folk. You could see them throughout all of the different forest villages - tan ones, ones made the colours of autumn, crimson red and pumpkin pie orange, some in golden honeycomb yellow, and others in all shades of green and grey. Tan was the best choice for Tharon, because his clothes were usually tattered and muddy from running around the forests with Tally.

His skin was slightly tanned, like his mothers had been, and he still looked much a child.

"Give it here!" Tally shouted as she tried to make a swipe for the case, but failed.

"You'll never get it from me!" Tharon laughed back, continuing to parade around with a wide grin on his face. She hated this game.

Tally was nothing like most of the other girls. While most of the other girls typically loved to gossip around the fires, sing songs, tether furs, and teach recipes, she never cared for their mingling. Their stories bored her. They were never full of any excitement, like the ones her father told her about quests for beasts, and wizards, and knights. Instead, she often played games with the boys - like woodball, and touch, or castles and swords. It was much more natural for boys to play these sorts of games, but that did not stop Tally from finding her way in. Tharon had always stood up for her - he must have liked having her on his team. She was better than most of the boys were, though Tharon never would have admitted any of that. She wasn't afraid to spar with boys either; she would often pick fights with the ones who would tell her she couldn't play - and win.