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It was strange to be alone. With treefolk, you always were what you did together with others. Names were referring to what someone did best. You shared a bond with your family, friends and clan. That was why Nitay had been so angry – what she did, they had done.

And that was why it was so hard for her to mourn the others – for treefolk the dead were just fallen leaves that would regrow in time. They died and lived on.

This morning she had gone down to the creek and washed off what remained of her paint. And then she realized that now the dead had no one to live on in. She could not imagine them living on in Nitay. For the first time to Rakan, death amounted to something irreversible and final.

There was a rare feeling going with that. Fear. For she was all alone.

The creek ran down towards the plains. It was still just after dawn, but there were distinct traces of the slavers having passed this way, since it was the most comfortable source of water. The tracks were two or three days old, maybe, but they had made sure, that if someone wanted to follow them, there would be no mistaking the way they went. It was a trap of course, they knew it, she knew it and certainly he knew that she knew…

If you took to baiting an animal, there were some that fell for it, some that avoided it, and some that tried to get at it even though they know of the trap.

What kind of animal am I, she asked herself. Deep down the beast inside growled.

The mist was getting heavy, it felt heavy. Something was hiding inside. And then, slowly, shapes appeared, closing around her, closing the trap.

DAZ3D Iray Render, PS Post work

Image gallery: www.deviantart.com/magnus-stri…

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Ingredients: The last pitiful remains of my Highpark & Annie Lennox...

Description

It was strange to be alone. With treefolk, you always were what you did together with others. Names were referring to what someone did best. You shared a bond with your family, friends and clan. That was why Nitay had been so angry – what she did, they had done.

And that was why it was so hard for her to mourn the others – for treefolk the dead were just fallen leaves that would regrow in time. They died and lived on.

This morning she had gone down to the creek and washed off what remained of her paint. And then she realized that now the dead had no one to live on in. She could not imagine them living on in Nitay. For the first time to Rakan, death amounted to something irreversible and final.

There was a rare feeling going with that. Fear. For she was all alone.

The creek ran down towards the plains. It was still just after dawn, but there were distinct traces of the slavers having passed this way, since it was the most comfortable source of water. The tracks were two or three days old, maybe, but they had made sure, that if someone wanted to follow them, there would be no mistaking the way they went. It was a trap of course, they knew it, she knew it and certainly he knew that she knew…

If you took to baiting an animal, there were some that fell for it, some that avoided it, and some that tried to get at it even though they know of the trap.

What kind of animal am I, she asked herself. Deep down the beast inside growled.

The mist was getting heavy, it felt heavy. Something was hiding inside. And then, slowly, shapes appeared, closing around her, closing the trap.

DAZ3D Iray Render, PS Post work

Image gallery: www.deviantart.com/magnus-stri…

Next picture:

Previous picture:

Ingredients: The last pitiful remains of my Highpark & Annie Lennox...