Writing Exercises – The Clearing

Clearing(I’ll sometimes take a picture and write a story based on the impressions it gives me. This one of the starts to one of these stories.)

Tria pressed her back against one of the last trees before the clearing broke, like a wound, through the ancient forest. The canopy did nothing to stop the torrent of water as it washed over her dark blue cloak. Despite the weatherproofing, the cloak had seen many seasons worth of weather. Beneath it, her dark green deerskin tunic and dark brown leather pants and boots were logged with water to the linen undershirt and trousers beneath that she wore. Her black hair was braided tight and twisted about her head. Despite the years since she had left her people, she could not lose the taboo a blade touching her mane would be. For her people, the lesson to never cut hair after the adulthood ceremony was, literally, beaten into each person at the onset of puberty.

Green eyes peering from under the blue wool hood observed the towering wooden tavern from the middle of the man-made clearing. Tria scowled. Her fingers flexed into claws as she grabbed the tree trunk. She hated it. For so long she wandered the trees. For years, decades, she had followed the same principal; stay away from any other living, sentient being! Now, however, the rainy, winter season had come again, and by chance or a cruel trick of fate, she was in a part of the forest hunted nearly bare after a horrible growing season. She needed supplies, and she needed warmth, and some part of her that she wished dead but remained stubbornly alive wished for a fire, a candle, a feather bed, and some warm, mulled wine. A meal cooked by anyone but herself. For the company of others, the sounds of talking, even if not to her.

“What are you waiting for, Tria?” she asked herself bitterly in her surprisingly beautiful, deep melodic voice. She pushed away from the tree and towards the tavern.

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