Newtal

"Honour has no place in survival"
'Danger arrives in threes. You can see and create decay. People like me destroy people like you.'
My entry for the Carve The Mark competition.

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1. Beyond The Caelum Sea

If anyone had seen her, they likely would have mistaken her for a statue, and by 'anyone,' that would mean someone outside of the tribe-the tribe knew their own, identifying each individual member by their unique auras that they had possessed since birth.

This particular young tribe member, a young woman, had a dark purple, verging on black, aura-she had gained the name Newtal, roughly translating to The Necromancer; the fear she instilled in others through this was not helped by her right eye, as it was the dominant facial feature she had. Although she could not see through it like most others, she had been told that it was like looking into a vortex of black and dark purples and if looked into long enough, the feeling of having death looking right back at them. 

At current, Newtal had been crouched in the thick, twisted tree branches for quite some time, her lightly muscled legs tucked into her chest, scarred hands gripping the gnarled branches above and eyes shut in concentration. In her state of concentration, Newtal could see the entire jungle mapped out perfectly in her head; this was all down to her necromancy traits being able to sense the decay that clung to the animals and trees that were dead and were going to die soon. She could see at once how all the dead had died and how the dying would; to Newtal, it was not a gift and a gift and yet also a curse and not a curse. She was just born that way.

There. Her head snapped to face north, the direction of the Caelum Sea and the thing she had been dreading. Stretching a dirtied, tattooed arm out of the comfort of the leafless tree and toward the unnatural decay of the Northern Solum, Newtal pulled it back when she felt the first globs of the ino storm pat against her skin.

Stinga had been warning the tribe of this particular storm for three days, warning them that they should prepare just in case the worst happened. Although he could warn the others of trouble that happened (as long as it had any relation to the number three), Stinga could not foretell to what extent how serious the danger was, which was both helpful and turhauhava, frustrating.

Focusing her mind and her eyes, Newtal knew that she would not die on the journey to the Caelum Sea if she ignored Stinga's warnings and went during the ino storm. She could, and would, take shelter both above and underground. Game would be obtained through hunting, and if Newtal could get no game (though Newtal knew she would, she could see their death) then fruits and nuts would gathered from the many trees and undergrowth. Water would be gained by drinking from one of the many large, upside-down pool leaves-they always seemed to fill right up whenever there was even a slight hint of rainBesides, Newtal had one of many food pouches and a water pouch looped onto the leather belt around her waist as backup.

 

Shuffling backward to press into tree trunk and under the branch above which was big to protect her from the steadily heavier rain, Newtal checked over what she did and did not haveFood pouch (containing multiple kava roots, meat slices and a rikter flower to help ward off the poison snake), full water pouch, her knife carved out of the famous Kullhead tailbone, the bugle fashioned out of a dried Pocka trunk and the growing necklace of teeth from the animals she had killed. It was only respectful that Newtal prayed to the necklace every night, so that she would be forgiven for what she felt needed to be done when she killed the terra's sacred animals.

Looking south, toward the Umbra tribes base, Newtal hesitated for only a moment; thunder and lightning had started to rumble.

If anybody had been watching the careful statue of a woman, she was gone from the branches between the first flash of lightning and the next.

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