Role

Chapter 1

The young fela child scampered up the tree with her folks smooth grace and signs
of much practice. The occasional chortle of glee the only sounds giving away her
presence. Scampering easily into the trees tallest branches, she huddled into a
tight mass of shadows, her gray fur furthering her subterfuge. For a long time she sat.
Smiling quietly to herself, she watched the comings and goings of the woodland creatures,
simply happy to enjoy the quiet, the smells and the solitude, knowing in these
moments, she was happiest. She detested the village...its stink and its shacks...
its loudness and dirtiness.

Suddenly a loud woop caught her attention, and she was moving, jumping from branch
to branch towards it. Clinging close to a old tree's trunk, she huddled concealed, peering
at the cause of the disruption. Far below her, a group of felar boys where digging at
a burrow, wooping and capering in joy at their unthinking cruelty. Tramplers.
They all brandished long sticks, no doubt playing soldiers and the poor small spiky
back, the target of their seige. Finally with another hoot of joy the biggest of the
boys, with much prying levered the poor creature from his home, levering it onto its
back. Made brave he stabbed at it, soliciting a squeal of fear and pain from the poor
creature, and causing a doubling of the groups capering and shouts.
In her tree, the girl saw red, not right she thought. Wrong. Tramplers. In
the small spiky backs squeal, she heard a friend calling in fear. Before she knew it, her
slingshot was in her hand, the lead bully, lying on the ground, nursing his head and
crying. A quick jump and she was in a different tree, and another of the Tramplers lay
on the ground, this one holding his knee. "Not see her!" she yelled, her eyes gleaming
ferally, "Treeclimber here, and time you go!" another jump and another loud thwack as
a stone struck skin, and the boys were running, screaming, their sticks and courage
forgotten.

The girl watched them run, frowning, before quickly scampering down to the small
spiky back. It still lay on its back, with a nasty wound flowing onto the ground, pitiful
grunts coming from it. Without knowing why, yet somehow knowing it was right, the girl
grabbed at a small shrub, wich seemed to call to her. Squeezing it over the small
spiky backs wound, brought a juice, which smelled better then anything she had ever smelt
in her life, and for some reason, stopped the small creatures mewls of distress. Turning
the little creature back onto its feet, it quickly scampered away, and the girl returned
to her trees.