Seeds

Timestamp: Ostiarium Forests - Midnight

The clear moon wanes in the night sky. The forest is eerily quiet as if in mourning.

The only sound you hear is that of a small fire crackling and popping. It's so small that almost no heat reaches the old woman that sits next to it.

Her black shawl covers her hair and parts of her face. She looks deep into the flames as if waiting for someone or something. A sign even. A small vial sits on the grass next to her.

A figure quietly arrived from the darkness, clad in a fur cloak to ward off the midnight chill. While small, the fire was still a welcome warmth.
“Have you found any others?”

The woman looks up. Almost as if seeing a vision that appeared before her. Her milky eyes hidden in the shadows of her shawl glazed over.
"Too few. But more than when we started with..." She answered vaguely. "They're in the wind. Ready to face the onslaught of this new year. Without the sacrifice..." She let the words hang in the cold wind. She beckoned him to sit.

Her guest refused, his shadowed face looking towards her. The faint glow of the fire illuminated his furrowed brow, mirrored in the cold determination in his eyes.
“A sacrifice was given. The Preacher was a crazed zealot that overreached and he paid the price.”
He moved closer to the woman, standing next to her now with his back to the fire.

“What about the Felfar? Is this all that is left?” He gestured to the vial.
She ignored him. "He rides your shadow. He is tied to you now. His words..." She whispered. "You will carry them with you. His Tusks will defend you in your hour of need against the Great Beast. Spring comes and with it, War. Blood and death..."

A deep sigh answered her cryptic words, the face still looking into the night. “Then He will follow to Fang. Those that survived will be wise to do so as well.”

"They have scattered like seeds in the wind. Some drift across the plains, others nestle the peaks Fang and others still face the Great Desert..." she murmured.

She looked up at the moon. "I see so much blood and death. It is always so when the boon is not paid. He hungers and His vengeance will be swift." She looked at the man.
"He says to follow you. To follow you until you spill blue blood. To follow your words now."

Much of what she said was ignored for the moment.
“And what is this blue blood?”

The old woman stood up. If he wasn't going to sit with her she was done as well. Done all Slivikhi had commanded of her. A long road awaited her. One she wasn't sure she could survive. She dragged her foot across the earth dosing the small flames with a shower of dirt and dust.

"That is for you to find out." She said looking at him one last time. The old woman bowed at the waist.
"Preacher..." She said as if in veneration and walked away into the night...