The wind rustled through the silvery green leaves of the forest. It was a warm, fond caress form nature to her creatures. It never snowed here, thought the seasons came and went. The trees were always beautiful, either in blossom or bearing fruits the insects dared not touch. The trees were huge things, centuries old and healthy; very healthy, knowing neither blight nor plague. The trees were home to many creatures; birds of the air nested in the high branches and creatures of the land made homes in their shadow. But in these trees resided something more; the forestdwellers.
They had lived with these trees since they were mere seedlings, tending to them, bringing them water from springs more than a day's walk away when the dry seasons became droughts. The trees grew sturdy from their dedication, and though they were merely plants, the trees became dedicated to their tenders. They stretched their limbs out to provide shady places, shelter from the rain, and comfortable places to sit and sleep in their embrace, without having to resort to nailing on dead planks or tying up things with strangling ropes. The tenders learned to live in their trees, and live on the fruits of the trees. Since the sweet fruits could not supply all their nutrition, the tenders learned to eat (and enjoy) insects, and the occasional egg. It was unhealthy to rob all the eggs from bird's nests, and the tenders were unsuccessful in domesticating birds though the fruits flourished under their hands. Small woodland creatures - mice, squirrels, and rabbits - helped to fill out their diets. Tree-lizards, with their long toes and longer tongues became popular "pets" as they ate bugs too small and too fast for the tenders to catch. Leaving those bugs free was a bane to the fruits.
Over time, the symbiotic relationship between the tenders and the trees grew stronger; much stronger. So strong that the tenders evolved.
* * *
The day dawned cool, but not too cool; the trees didn't mind, and neither did their inhabitants. Ivit Silgari Benshiar had been fully awake since moonrise, when her shift had begun. She was a brilliant young female, but restless, as those of her age oft were. She had twenty cycles - twenty years - and her lineage would grant her nearly a century more before she passed on. Dwellers her age were supposed to find mates, and join Families, but Ivit wasn't participating in those patterns; no, she'd been tapped to become a guardian of the grove. Though this was a very respectable position, it left her in such a way that she'd never have a mate, nor children. While relationships among the Guard were common, pregnancies and the activities leading up to them were strictly discouraged. Swollen bellies were a hindrance to those protecting the homes.
Ivit lounged in the branches, the bark of the tree coarse under her silver-green skin, which wasn't necessarily silky smooth either. She enjoyed the solitude, gazing out at the rising sun with dark hazel eyes. Guard was posted dawn to dusk to dawn now (though it hadn't been when she was younger) since the men from the industrialized centers insisted on harvesting the forest. An unhealthy procedure. The guards were oath-bound to protect the trees that were more than just their homes.
A large spotted feline came into Ivit's view, and the forestdweller sat upright, ready to take initiative. "Cheetai." She growled, addressing the cat.
The cheetah lay down its prey temporarily to respond. She offered a portion of her kill in exchange for the safety of the tree in which to eat it, as was polite and honorable to do.
Ivit beckoned the cheetah to come up, moving out away from the trunk so the cheetah could climb up safely. Once the cheetah was settled with her kill, Ivit came to it, and deftly sliced a portion from it with her knife, her tail lashed around the tree for balance. Thanking the cheetah as was proper, Ivit moved to another branch to eat so she could resume watch. Eating raw meat would not harm her; centuries of evolution had negated any chance of that.
The Dwellers believed that cheetahs were their cousins, and that the trees would have taken them as their own, had the cheetah been able to give something in return. As time progressed, the Dwellers formed a respectful relationship with the spotted cats. If there was no Dweller to share the catch with, the cheetah would leave the hide and antlers or bones for the Dwellers rather than eat them or carry them off again. These were useful to the Dwellers; hides became leather for various purposes, and bone and antler became knives and tools and trinkets like the string of star-flower beads encircling Ivit's throat.
Ivit finished her meat and washed it down with a drink from the waterskin slung in the tree. The slits in Ivit's pupils narrowed as she spotted someone far off, and focused on them. Otherrealmer, peacebreed. Ivit thought, and sprawled out on the branch to await their arrival. They came nearer, and Ivit recognized the insignia they wore as from the Warren. "Ho there!" Ivit called down from the tree. "What brings you to the Glade?"
The mage looked startled, not seeing the speaker. "Show yourself!" The mage said in reply.
Ivit rolled her eyes, and leapt down, her silver hair bouncing as she landed lightly before him. 4'6" of silver-green forestdweller, with skin like a crocodile and a prehensile tail, with a black leather belt around her waist. Two bone knives hung from it - one for eating, the other for fighting, and a plain leather ouch. Not a shred more, beyond the intricate bone necklace at her throat. The mage looked startled. "There's something you wanted?"
"I am an apprentice from the Warren." He said, diplomatically. "I seek Ivit, of the Benshiar Clan, on behalf of Mystic Dragon."
"And for what purpose do you seek Ivit?" Ivit replied, amused to why this youngling was seeking her.
"Word has reached Tris'Hath that Ivit Benshiar has the qualities we seek, and she is to be fetched back immediately."
Ivit scoffed. "Qualities for what?"
"For bonding, of course. Only she's not to be told, lest her knowing spoil it all." The young mage replied.
"It's too late for that." Ivit said with a laughing grin.
"It is?" the mage looked panicked. "Where is she?"
Ivit laughed out loud now. "Right here. I am Ivit Silgari Benshiar."
The mage's eyes went wide in alarm. "Silgari?!" It was too late; she couldn't be taken away now, not if she'd been chosen as Guard.
"Yes, Silgari. Is this a problem?" Ivit replied, a bit irritated by his response.
"It might be." The mage replied. The cheetah watched all this in idle amusement. "Can I talk to the Skiya?"
Ivit was pleased that he hadn't said 'take me to your leader'. "Cheetai...?" Ivit said, growling to the predator in the tree. The words she spoke were guttural sounds and growls, yet the predator understood. She left her meal, and headed off into the grove. "She's fetching my replacement." Ivit said to the astonished mage. "I'll take you to the Skiya personally, as likely she'd summon me as well."
Within moments, a second silver-green Dweller, slightly bulkier than Ivit arrived. The cheetah climbed back up and resumed her meal. "Thank you Veskr." Ivit said, and then led the mage in, walking rather than moving through the upper branches as she normally would.
"I apologize if I offended you, Ivit." The mage began. "I didn't expect you to be she whom I sought, since... well..."
"Because we do not wear clothes, and there is little physical difference between males and females." Ivit answered for him. "One has little use for that sort of ornamentation when they are not raising young."
The mage was bewildered. This alternate culture was just weird. Ivit walked ahead of him, her long tail curled just so, lest it drag in the dirt.
Dri Skiya was pleased to entertain the young mage's questions; amused ever so slightly by his naiveté of their ways. Had Mystic sent him here to learn diplomacy with other cultures, or for something else?
"Skiya, I've come from the Warren at the request of Mystic Dragon. She asks for Ivit Benshiar, yet the person in question has been named Silgari."
Dri Skiya nodded. "I suppose this is a problem, as the chosen are not to be uprooted." The young mage nodded. At least he understood something. "What does Mystic want of Ivit?"
The mage swallowed. He'd already told Ivit; it was too late to keep the secret. "There's a clutch of Hathian dragons due to hatch, and it is willed that Ivit be present."
Dri Skiya nodded thoughtfully. "Should Ivit Silgari be permitted to leave the forest, would she be able to return if a dragon chooses to bond her?"
The young mage nodded. "I don't foresee any problem. I believe a Hathian dragon would be comfortable in your grove."
"And how would Ivit get to Tris'Hath and back?" Dri Skiya asked.
"There is a portal, Skiya. It is located just south of the grove, where the flowering apples form a semicircle."
Dri Skiya nodded, as though she was asking him to confirm something she already knew. Ivit stood as the Skiya hailed her. "Will you accept the summons?"
Ivit bowed her head. "With your approval, I will go for the good of the grove."
The Skiya smiled. "Go Ivit, with the love of the forest buoying you."
Ivit smiled and looked to the mage. "I am ready..."
The poor boy hesitated, and Dri Skiya spoke. "Ivit, you'll be needing clothes; the warren is unlike the grove." She rose from her couch. Others appeared with a trunk and a traveling bag. With little discussion, half a dozen brightly colored folded items were chosen and packed. A seventh was held until Ivit removed her belt. It was a rectangle of deep purple cloth, with a wide border around the edges and a square collar. This was draped over Ivit, and then belted so it overlapped at the sides. The tabard nearly reached her knees, and had no sleeves to speak of, but it was clothing. And rather formal clothing at that.
"Safe travels, Ivit." Dri Skiya said as the Silgari picked up the bag.
"Thank you." She said, and then departed for the Warren with the mage, to see if this all was true.
