The Disjointed Tales Of Renryre Island

03-1: The Restless Stars

It was a crisp morning, and Ryleine could smell the sweet scents of Rordynne Forest as it awoke; the flowers opening, the pollen carried by the breeze. Her catch had been light recently, but she could feel her luck changing. There was something different in the air, something restless. The wildlife would be nervous, prowling the forest with eyes and ears pricked up, and not concentrating on the traps beneath their limbs.

Her feet landed softly on the damp mossy dirt, her leather boots keeping the moisture out. She had made the boots herself, along with the rest of her outfit. Her knee length shorts wrapped tight around her thighs and tighter still under the belt, her shirt perhaps more stylish than it was comfortable, and a jacket to keep her warm in the cool mornings. But for all her efforts in presentation, her priority was always durability, and to avoid loose clothing snagging in the undergrowth.

The forest provided all the leather she needed, and all the food. The rest she sold in Lerinton, where the traders would resell to Helen's Bay merchants at twice the price. She wouldn't normally bother travelling that far herself, not unless she needed to buy better supplies.

Lately however the forest had provided less than she needed, and the first trap she checked that morning had yielded the same pitiful results. She crouched down, resting on one knee as she searched for any signs of animals passing by. The evidence was obvious in the spoor, but luck, it seemed, had been on their side that night.

She stood up with a sigh and retied her hair as she had several times already that morning. It hung close to her waist, and years of experience had given her the ability to twirl it into a knot within moments, a habit she often repeated while her mind was wandering.

Three traps later and several reties of her hair, yet still no yield. Something had changed, but she couldn't quite figure out what it was. Finally, the fifth trap held a catch, and her excitement grew as she neared it, seeing that it had caught something completely unexpected.

It was a beast she had never seen or heard of. The large cat, its back as high as her waist, appeared to be something like the tiger she had heard of in the myths of the mainland, but this was quite different.

Female, she saw; her fur was a deeper black than a dark night in a cave, with rich red stripes running the full length of her body from whiskers to tail, thinning out at each end. Her paws were nearly twice the size of Ryleine's hands, while her teeth bore resemblance to a torturer's set of sharp stilettos.

She looked back at Ryleine, sad, and in pain. The noose had tightened on her front paw, and blood dripped from the wound. The beast snarled at Ryleine as she approached. Her stomach grumbled despite her distaste for feline flesh. Besides, the pelt alone would fetch a handsome price. And more than likely this carnivore had eaten, or at least scared off most of the other prey, leaving Ryleine's traps unsprung.

Despite the hissing and growling in defiance, Ryleine was not put off. She edged closer to the large cat, dagger drawn, eyes fixed on her prey, prepared for the usual death throes. All creatures fight to the last no matter how slim their chances.

Ducking under the all too predictable swipe, she slashed with her dagger and quickly stepped back.

"Go free, sister of the forest," she said.

 She was glad no one was around to hear her, it sounded much better in her head.

The black tiger backed away slowly, limping slightly, eyes still fixed on her. Then, she turned and bounded off into the thicket.

An act of madness no doubt, but Ryleine felt sorry for her. She was probably all alone in the forest, something Ryleine could relate to. Besides, once that pelt was spotted in Helen's Bay, every man with a pointy stick would be flooding Rordynne Forest in search of more of the new precious hide. Ryleine would far prefer that her sanctuary remained her own.