Chasing Hope

Written and distributed by Nightshade

This is a very short story and part of my characters backstory, enjoy!

Rain pattered softly on the damp grass of the forest, which was the only sound one could hear for miles. Every creature had succumbed to the warmth of their nests or hollows. Neither the birds nor the mystic Kipine had made a sound on this stormy day. All was quiet, but never peaceful it seemed. Danger was thick in the air, tension rippled with every shaking branch of the forest. The silence seemed anything but tranquil, something was wrong, very wrong. As the dense vegetation swayed during the high winds, it was lurking in the darkness. Waiting for an easy catch to feast upon. After what it seemed like an eternity, it would finally get the chance.

Light footsteps rustled the dewy foliage and crashed through thick trunks of aging trees. A dragonborn was running through the forest at a rapid speed, her breath was gone, yet she still ran. One hand was ready to pull out a dagger tucked neatly in her leather belt, while the other carried something warm and smooth. She barely had time to gasp before the soft earth began to surge beneath her. With a puff of determination, she managed to dodge a striking blow from the soiled ground. She knew what crept in this forest, and she knew if she stopped running, it would catch her. More mounds of topsoil seemed to swell from what lay under it, and the dragonborn tripped under an uprooted tree. Far too tired to carry on, she laid there, ready for what was next. She had sealed her doom when she entered this forest, and she felt like a deer caught by a skilled hunter. Trapped, and on the verge of death. There is no escape for me now, her mind pressed on. ''Quillren will be the name forgotten amongst my clan, I will be dismissed as only a traitor. There is nothing left for me in this life, and all I can anticipate is for a better one after this.'' Her thoughts seemed to savor the taste of certain death. Quillren had resisted the urge for so long to give up, and now she finally indulged in the rotting jaws of death. In fact, she seemed to welcome it more as a friend than anything. Her tail curled with apprehension as the creature emerged from the blackened depths of sodden loam.

Curved mandibles twitched with uncontrollable bloodlust, and beady, black eyes seemed to stare hungrily at her. Six legs made of sharp chitin erupted from the terrain, spraying clumps of mud and clay onto the forest floor. Quillren watched as the ankheg emerged to its full height, with three others behind it. The first one crept closer to her until she could feel the warm vapor of its vulgar breath like hot needles. She stared, her eyes wide with terror as drool seeped from the creature’s labrum and onto her viridescent scales. Quillren slowly edged her way to the hilt of a dagger, and all the while keeping her eyes locked with the fearsome apex predator. Careful not to sway the minacious savage, she silently pulled the dagger out in one swift motion. Clutching it with a shaking hand, Quillren plunged the dagger straight into the beast’s blazing eyes. The ankheg screeched in agony as the blood spurted from the eye like pus bursting from an infected wound. With the beast distracted, she quickly crawled to a nearby log of rotten wood. Its insides were feasted by worms and beetles of all kinds, she hoped it would be safe enough. Quillren turned to grab the precious item she’d been carrying alongside her journey for moons. She wouldn’t have given up for the world, and now she knew it was the only choice. Her hands lightly brushed the top of the beloved treasure, and it made her heart swell with affection. She gently tucked the egg inside the fetid log, praying to the gods that it would stay safe. Please, please, this is my last wish upon the world. Please honor it,  by the power of Silvanus, let my child live. Quillren felt herself hesitate to let go, but she forced her hand away. She quickly limped back to the clearing in a few strides until she fell again. Her chest heaving, she settled herself on the flattened sod. She let a small smile creep on her face as she lay there, awaiting her certain death.