Potential YA Story
The trek from the village to the mouth of Sky Vale Forest was a relatively short one on a sunny day, but on mornings where the wind stung and the rain slashed like an angry cat it felt like the beginning of a long harrowing adventure. Tamara thought about the stories her Pap used to tell of brave heroes and mysterious creatures, and as she peered up from her cloak she wondered what creatures awaited her. Towering trees the size of castle spires stared back, daring her to step further. She exhaled white plumes and rubbed her hands together. The tattered old gloves that left her finger tips exposed provided little in the ways of physical warmth, but they reminded her of home. She shook her head.
“Pap, I’m gonna get that bird.” Tamara whispered into the quiet. “They’ll see then.” With a nod and audible grunt, she adjusted the travel sack on her shoulder and the quiver of arrows at her back; her bow hugged the other shoulder as she walked nimbly over the forest’s threshold.
All at once life buzzed around her. It was as if she had pulled open a thick curtain to reveal a crowded room. This was different than the forests surrounding her village or the trees near the creek. Life was louder here, bigger. Birds chirped their greetings while small creatures darted into the underbrush. She glanced at the withering canopy above and thanked the gods, perhaps for the first time ever, for the colder weather. The sparseness of leaves meant more sunlight reached the ground—and her. Unfortunately, it also meant rain would continue to dampen her clothes.
It was no matter, though. She would be home around a fresh fire before the wet had a chance to chill her bones.
Her boots beat a steady rhythm as she moved through the flora. It was just like in the song. She walked with one hand outstretched, fingers dancing across ancient bark, and sang.
“Sky Vale Forest there my feet did tread
Sky Vale Forest where my heartfelt dread
Thy tale surest to show you the way”
(song talks about a run in with a mighty bird and how the only way to it is to follow the song of the forest but be careful not to ignore it,) She sang quietly. Tamara imagined the birds, with their cacophonous melody, were singing along.
She was on her twelfth reprisal of Pap’s song when a caw unlike the rest cut through the din. Silence reigned at last. Tamara took a deep slow breath and deftly shrugged off her bow. The caw echoed again, moving away.
Tamara muttered a curse and reached for her quiver. Her feet swiftly covered the uneven terrain as she nocked an arrow.