Ruminations of Silas Witthorn

Year: A5 Month: Helak Day: Rehl

Journal, my old friend and trusted confidant,

I awoke early this morning under the most curious of circumstances, the events of which I shall relay to you now. As you know, my partner Quill Stonedew and I have heard reports of poachers ensnaring the sacred unicorns indigenous to the beloved forests of Corelle. So, as a ranger, and sworn protector of the forest, I hatched a plan to catch a few of these lowly menaces red handed. With Quill’s help, I set up a fair number of traps scattered throughout the forest. Nothing lethal, of course. Just a series of ropes and pulleys, to create snares. We got to work quickly, and were able to lay all our traps in less than two days. Our traps are sturdy, and if activated, the snares would lift the poachers high into the trees. Any hope the poachers may have of escaping would prove impossible. Because these traps were intended to catch the abysmal poachers, not innocent animals, we took care to place the devices where we knew the unicorns were not likely to tread.

On the eve of summer’s solstice, we set up camp as usual. Quill and I had enough provisions to sustain us a few days, before we would need to resupply. After a quick and meager meal, we settled down for the night. You know, journal, how I prefer to sleep under the stars rather than a tent. Providing the weather is agreeable, of course, and the night was more than agreeable. The dark sky was clear, stars twinkling like crystals, and the temperature was moderate with a cool, crisp intermittent breeze. Each constellation was perfectly visible, and I could tell this fair weather would continue throughout the week. This was good, because there was no telling how long it might take to nab a poacher or two. 

Anyway, on this particular occasion, I was awoken near dawn by a loud shriek in the distance. My sharply attuned Elven ears easily determined the sound originated from the northern sector of the forest. I was positive that our traps had proved successful, and that we already snagged one of those dreadful poachers. Glancing over at Quill, I noticed he was still in a sound sleep. His inferior human ears had not picked up on the noise at all. Shaking my head in annoyance, I roused my partner with a swift kick to the bottom of his boot. Quill woke with a start.

“What in the blazes? Silas? Is there a fire?”

Glaring, I replied, “I told you time and again, you must learn to sleep lightly, and be fully aware of your surroundings at all times.”

“So there is a fire?”

Sighing, I roughly ran my hand down the side of my face, “By the gods, I swear a human has no business being a ranger. There is no fire, but something, or rather someone has triggered one of our traps.”

Finally, Quill was moved to his feet, ready to take action, “I am loyal to Corelle, and love this forest as much as you do.”

I nodded solemnly, “Then prove it.”

Silently, Quill gathered his gear, while I quickly, grabbed my bow. Then, I slung my quiverful of arrows over my shoulder, and together we stealthily ran toward the northern sector of the forest.

As we crept our way deeper into the forest, I cringed each time I heard Quill snap a twig in the darkness. I know every square inch of this forest like the back of my hand, and when I move, I can do so with the utmost silence. If Quill Stonedew truly desires to be a competent ranger, he will have much still to learn. The sky was still somewhat dark when we reached the northern sector, but I could see signs of the golden sun just beginning to rise above the treetops. Quickly, I scanned the immediate surroundings in search of the one who tripped the snare. That damned poacher was here somewhere, hanging from one of these trees.

“We must split ways,” I informed my partner, “I will sweep this half of the sector, and you take the other half.”

Quill nodded and darted in the opposite direction, and he soon disappeared among the dense gathering of trees. Because I am an elf, my eyes easily adjusted to the morning twilight that enveloped the forest. Carefully, I probed the woods, looking for signs of poaching. Any unusual activity would not go unnoticed by me. I hadn’t forgotten where we set any of our traps, so I methodically moved my way through my half of the sector. The first few traps, I found, were empty. Nearly half an hour or so had passed by the time I reached the last trap. By this time, the sun had risen fully, and it was plain to see the trap was empty. Which meant, decidedly, the poacher was somewhere in Quill’s half. I frowned with disappointment, for I wanted to be the ranger who would bring the foul poacher to justice.

Suddenly, I heard Quill call out loudly, “I’ve found your poacher, Witthorn!”

I turned swiftly as the wind, and ran to catch up with Quill. I ducked under low hanging branches and leaped over fallen, moss covered trunks, in my bid to reach Quill. I found him standing with his arms crossed over his chest, and staring up at the trees. His shoulders were heaving greatly with laughter, which piqued my curiosity. What could possibly be so amusing, I wondered?

“What have we caught?” I asked, as I finally reached his side.

Quill, who was still in stitches, did not answer me in words, but pointed upwards instead. I set my gaze toward the high branches, and saw a person of small stature dangling by one leg among the green leaves.

“A dwarf?” I questioned, quite puzzled, “I’ve never known dwarves to be poachers.”

“So much for your superior Elven eyes,” Quill snorted, “that’s a child.”

“What in the blazes?”

The child, a human child, was screaming mightily, and kicking his free leg, and both arms about erratically. Whatever I was expecting to see, it surely wasn’t this. I scratched my head, truly perplexed. For the love of the goddess Hurn, what was a mere child doing here, so deep in the woods?

“All right,” Quill called to the child, “We’ll get you down. Hold tight.”

“No!” wailed the child, “I don’t need your help.”

“Says the little boy trapped in my snare!” I snapped incredulously.

“I’m a girl, you dolt!”

Now, I was truly taken aback. Why was a small female child roaming unaccompanied about the forest. It was no wonder that she triggered one of the snares, as they were well hidden, and a child wouldn’t likely know any better. The girl was still kicking and screaming, while hanging upside down by one leg. She was relentless, and insisted she didn’t require any assistance from either me or Quill.

“Then how do you expect to free yourself?” I snapped at her.

“A couple of flopdoodles, the both of you!” She screeched.

“Flopdoodles!” Quill whooped, slapping his knee, “This kid’s a riot.”

“I’m so glad you’re amused, Stonedew, but this is hardly a time for jests.”

“Morons,” she screeched again, “I shall curse you yet!”

“That’s it,” I grumbled, highly annoyed, “I’ve had enough of this.”

With that, I pulled a knife from my boot, and cut the rope, effectively disabling the snare. 

“Silas!” Quill cried, as the girl dropped from the trees.

My partner dove for the girl, catching her, before they both tumbled head over heels to the ground. When they lost momentum, Quill lay flat on his back, and the child was sitting up, straddling his chest. The girl looked totally unharmed, but I have no clue why he made such an effort to intercept her.

“Children are fragile, Silas,” Quill said in a lecturing tone, “you can’t just drop them on their heads.”

I rolled my eyes as Quill helped the girl to her feet. We didn’t have time to escort this child through the forest and back to town. Not when there were actual poachers lurking around, threatening an already dwindling population of unicorns. The girl stood facing me, brushing dirt off her tunic and cloak. Staring at the gap toothed child, I was filled with resentment. I wanted her gone, and out of my forest.

“What brings you here, child?”

“Oh, don’t mind him,” Quill pipped in, “elves aren’t terribly emotional beings, so I’ve learned.

“Don’t you fools know who I am?”

“An unmanned brat?” I answered.

The child straightened her back and held her head up high, “I am Princess Aviva of the Nobledawn family. Given your ill treatment of me, I wouldn’t be surprised if you were both relieved of your posts.”

Quill’s eyes grew wide, and he immediately fell to one knee, “Princess, whatever are you doing roaming these woods unaccompanied?”

I watched as the girl slowly reached her hand into a leather drawstring pouch at her waist. Suddenly, she withdrew it and puffed a handful of pink dust in Quill’s face. Turning on her heels, she took off running into the thickest part of the forest. Poor Quill was left trying to rub the mysterious powder from his eyes.

Rushing over to attend Quill, I asked, “Are you well? Can you see?”

“Yes, but what was that stuff?”

“Listen,” I began, “you stay here and recover. Also, continue to mind the traps, because there still may be poachers afoot. I will track her down and return her to the palace.”

Quill nodded in understanding, and I ran in the direction the young princess had taken. Tracking the girl was not difficult work. I simply followed the trail of broken twigs and trampled plants she left in her wake. Fifteen minutes later, I discovered  her lying face down in a pile of dried leaves. One of her feet was hooked under the gnarled root of an old tree. The little wretch was stuck fast.

“Tripped did you?”

“Shut up!”

I sighed, and carefully  freed her foot from under the old root. I performed a quick check on the child’s ankle. Luckily, there appeared to be no broken bones, but the bruising was rather substantial. Helping the child to her feet, I asked, “Can you hold your own weight?”

Upon attempting to stand, she immediately fell to the ground with a sharp cry.

“I suppose not,” I shrugged, hoisting the girl onto my back, and began the trek to the palace, “you’re a long way from home. How old are you anyway?”

“Six a and quarter.”

“I assume the king isn’t privy to your whereabouts.”

“No.”

“What were you trying to accomplish here?”

“I heard there were poachers illegally trapping unicorns, and I thought I could put a stop to them.”

All at once, I found my resentment toward the girl rapidly subsiding, “and just how did you fancy you would manage that?”

“Oh, I have lots of tricks up my sleeves,” the princess explained, “I’ve been taking lessons from the old mage, Perrin.”

“That explains the pink dust you assaulted my partner with.” 

 “It was supposed to be a forgetting spell. Did it work?”

“I’m afraid not. His eyes were fairly irritated, but his memory appeared completely intact.”

“Drat! Not potent enough, I guess.”

“Do you think you will be in very much trouble upon your return home?”

“Probably. Must you really bring me back so soon?”

“Yes, I must.”

“But I wanted to help the uni...” her speech was suddenly interrupted when a magnificent creature unexpectedly crossed our path, ”...corns.”

Journal, I swear to you a unicorn with a coat black as coal, was staring us down completely unafraid. In all my years as a ranger, I have never seen anything like it before.

“It looks like a shadow.”

Indeed it did. Breathlessly, we gazed upon the unicorn before it reared up on its hind legs, and cantered away.

I will leave you here, dear Journal, for it is growing late. Princess Aviva has been sleeping for a long while, and I soon must rouse her if I hope to return her to the palace in a timely fashion.

Sincerely yours,

Silas Witthorn

https://theprose.com/post/250896/aviva-s-closet