Rewrite of Hchaahn's part of the 24 hour challenge
Part 3
Hchahn collapsed exhausted at the base of a tree. She had been running through the woods for what felt like forever. Time had lost its meaning. It was getting dark. And cold. She could hardly move. She wasn’t sure where she was or how she had gotten there. Those things didn’t seem important. She wasn’t even sure who she was for that matter.
She thought there was something vitally important and urgent that she needed to do, something to do with the durwood box she carried. She looked at the polished wood, but her eyes slipped away from it. For some reason, even thinking about the box filled her with dread. She wanted to throw it and its horrible contents far away from her, but she lacked the strength. She just slumped there gasping and sobbing and trying not to retch.
“What are you?” she whispered and it seemed as if the box were asking her the same question.
Hchahn saw an image of glistening fangs that dripped with venom just before the deadly strike. The fangs grew and turned silver, transforming into an exquisitely wrought dagger that began to hum and glow read with fiery runes and blood.
Hchahn remembered Layla’s body turning to ash and drifting away on the wind.
Then she did retch, again and again. It was as if her body was trying to expel the hideous taint that had grown in her spirit and now overwhelmed her. She heaved long after she was empty then finally rolled onto her back.
Layla had been an evil creature who killed for pleasure and for greed, but she had also killed on Hchahn’s orders. Hchahn had killed Layla, not from the undeniable strike reflex that Ssoi’isslythi are subject to, but coldly and with forethought, just as Brianna had ordered.
Layla was not the only one Hchahn had killed for the sake of the revolution. Some had died from her own venom. While her strike reflex is uncontrollable once triggered, Hchahn had been aware, with at least some part of her brain, that Brianna was arranging for the trigger to be pressed by people who needed to be removed.
The whisper of the wind in the trees reminded Hchahn of the serenity she once sought.
‘How did I come so far away from that?’ she thought ‘What have I become?’
Her heart felt as cold as the ground that stole the heat from her body. Hchahn knew she must build a fire or die, but her body was too weak and her spirit too ill to care.
Her heavy eyelids closed of their own accord. If only the cold could stop her tortuous thoughts.
“Who are you? What do you want?” she heard a distant voice ask as her consciousness faded.
Part 5: Grandmother
Cython carried his load of firewood toward his cave. He saw a shape just a little away from the path. “Who are you? He called. “What do you want?”
When he approached, he saw that it was the sstoi’isslythi woman who had approached him about joining some rebellion. He’d already declined. “What do you want?” he asked again. Still she didn’t answer, or even move.
Cython stood over her prone form wondering if he was too late. He reached out with the darker senses he possessed and felt the small spark of life that for the moment resided within her frail frame. It was fading. He reached through the pool of darkness beside him and withdrew the blanket from his cave home. He laid it on the ground and transferred her to it to insulate her. He then started a small fire. He built a framework of branches around Hchahn and draped his cloak over it to direct the fire’s heat around her and to protect her from the breeze.
The cold wasn’t the only threat to her life. Cython had sensed a great wound in her spirit as well.
He sat in a lotus position beside her, closed his eyes and lapsed into a state of deep concentration. A tendril of shadow reached from the center of his forehead to bridge the distance between them. The tip of the tendril gently touched the center of her forehead and he could feel her presence.
Hchahn was home again among her own kind. As she looked out over the settlement of her people she remembered the time when she thought the only reason she never felt at home here was because she was taller than most. She knew that a feeling of alienation had driven her from her people, but it hadn’t come from her height.
There they were the picture of propriety: thoughtful, polite, an island of civilization in a sea of barbarians. And the most exemplary of all was their matriarch, Hchahn’s maternal grandmother for whom she had been named. She was the definition of civil for Hchahn, and she worshipped her. She emulated her grandmother in every way, and her grandmother doted on her. It was only natural, then, that she wanted her grandmother to meet her suitor.
There were some in the conmmunity who thought him a rogue, but Hchahn knew him to be brilliant and forward thinking. He didn’t blindly follow the rules of their culture. He questioned everything. He spoke freely of the bold and innovative changes he desired. His courage and determination had stolen her heart.
She decided to present him to her grandmother before the rest of her family. The main reason for this was that she knew her parents would never allow her to present him to Grandmother if she asked. She also knew that if Grandmother approved of him her family would be forced to accept him.
Sneaking him into their house and up to Grandmother’s parlor had seemed quite an adventure. He rolled his eyes when Hchahn made the gesture of apology for arriving unexpectedy, but he followed suit.Grandmother smiled as Hchahn made the introductions and offered him some fruit…as custom demands.
Soon they were engaged in conversation. He seemed to be charming Grandmother as easily as he had charmed young Hchahn. Then the conversation turned political. Hchahn had begged him to restrain himself this one time. So, when Grandmother stated her long held beliefs on the importance of tradition in their society, he was quiet and respectful in his disagreement. Hchahn thought he was doing well. He listened intently while Grandmother explained why she thought he was wrong. He carefully considered what she said, then he began to systematically pick apart her arguments with far more enthusiasm that was wise.
He had made it to his third point before Hchahn saw a flash of movement. At first she thought she had imagined it. Then she realized that her suitor had stopped mid-sentence. She looked into his eyes and could see something was wrong. They were becoming glassy and his skin had gone white. His lips were still moving, but not quite forming words. Then he collapsed. As she rushed to his side, she saw the delicate puncture wound on his neck.
She turned her horrified face to her grandmother who simply replied, “How rude.” as she left the room. Longing for some kind of explanation, Hchahn’s eyes fell on the fruit bowl. Three pears were lined up in front of it, each with a single bite taken from it facing where her suitor had been standing. Three times he had been asked to change the subject. It finally dawned on her that her grandmother, the most civilized person she knew, her shining example, had just killed her suitor over a political disagreement. Her entire universe collapsed in on itself.
Her view of her grandmother had been the basis for what she considered civilized, now it became her view of her entire community. They might pretend to be civilized, but all of their forms and courtesies are just a thin mask they wear to hide the powerfully coiled death that lies just beneath the surface. The tiniest slight, the most minor faux pas could trigger a lethal strike from any of her countrymen including herself. With lethal violence only a heartbeat away, she simply couldn’t abide the pretense of her people. She didn’t want to be a savage, thoughtless killer, and so she fled her home.
Again the words “What do you want?” floated across her notice.
Part 7: Entwise
“Who are you?” the question echoed in her mind like the edge of a dream about to be forgotten.
Hchahn opened her eyes to the familiar sight of the forest canopy. The leaves above her, silhouetted against the bright summer sky, seemed to shimmer as the forest trees embraced her with their serenity. Hchahn raised her hand toward the branches. Sunlight glinted off the ring on her finger, enhancing the leaves engraved on it. She had always loved the forest. Being taller than most of the other Sstoi’isslythi had always made her feel awkward - like she didn‘t really belong. Among the trees, she was small. In town, everyone is polite and acts serene in order to maintain peace. In the forest the peace is real. The trees are patient, calm. They touch the sky and still belong to the earth.
“I wish I could be a tree.” she said aloud. “If I was a tree then I could never hurt anyone.”
A sudden image appeared in her mind. A creature - half spider and half human - pierced by trees that seemed to grow through it. Screaming in agony it turned it’s maddened, pleading eyes on her. Hchahn opened the Durwood box and reached inside.
“Who are you?”
Hchahn stood up and looked for the speaker. A small tree seemed to be moving towards her. When Hchahn looked closer, she could see that it was really a man, but tall with skin that looked like wood. More than twice as tall as Hchahn herself.
“I am Hchahn Iniss Esstehthse.”
Hchahn bowed as one does to greet a stranger, but a part of her mind recognized the bonsai tree spirit as her one time mentor.
Entwise taught Hchahn the lore of the trees and the ways of the Ents who so closely resemble them. Each day he took her deeper and deeper into the woods, away from the Sstoi’isslythi village and the snake-people who were her family.
There were times when Hchahn missed basking on the sun-warmed cliffs with her brothers and sisters, but it seemed impolite and ungrateful to mention this to her master.
Entwise offered her a ring of golden laen. Suspended within the face of the ring was the image of a tree. When the sun hit this image the leaves would shift as though disturbed by the passing of a gentle zephyr. He promised that the ring would transform her into a being like him. She donned the ring as proof of her apprenticeship. It did make the cold nights easier to endure.
As they continued their travels, they encountered many other races. She saw Entwise lay waste to enemies and obliterate obstacles with his magic. She soon realized that despite his tree spirit shell, he was capable of greater violence and destruction than any of her people and much more willing to unleash it. He could not teach her the serenity she longed for.
Again she heard the voice ask, “What do you want?”