Role

Chapter 1

The awakening . . .

With each new moon, with each new day it is getting harder and harder for
Krys. Her old bones are aching. Each muscle is filled with weariness and
fatigue. Each sinew is begging for a long rest. Yes, her time is near. Her body
is giving up, and it is getting harder and harder to do even those things that
were always a pleasure: long run, patient waiting, sudden strike, death cry of
unsuspecting prey, taste of blood in her mouth, bitter-sweet smell of decay . . .

She opens her eyes slowly. Comforting darkness surrounds her. Where is
she? It takes some time to recall . . . Ah, inside a small cave she found near the
roots of the Tree. Her personal quarters, as to say. Too dark and dump for
others, but it certainly feels like home. And in time, this place will become
her grave as well. And this body, the damned cell of her spirit, will serve as
food for new stronger weeds.

She looks all around. Her gaze stops for a moment on the pile of armor and
weapons lying in the far corner of the cave. No, no more of those. These
trinkets served well in her hunt, but now they only burden and tire her. She
can hardly find strength to wield weapons she made herself. May be it is a
good time to take all of it to the surface, to the hollows, where cubs will find
it and play with it, and where older ones will use it for their hunt. Yes, it is
probably a good time for that.

Today, Yes, today she will climb to the highest branch of the Tree for the last
time. With a long howl she will call her pack for the last meeting. For the last
meeting with her as with Nightreaver of Thar-Eris. Her time has come, the
time to step down and let those stronger and more vicious to lead the pack.
She is too old for that. She wants to be remembered as strong as she was in
her best years. She wants law dogs and slavers to shiver at the sound of her
name. She wants them to scare their children with the tales of her hunt. She
wants to remain a legend. And for that to happen she must find strength for
this last deed.

She closes her eyes again. Faces, voices and names . . . So many of them . . . So
many of them are forgotten for good. So many of them are already a legend.
Nrei. Aeria. Jhessar. Orau. Thaenian. So many of them. And so many new
faces around.

She smiles to herself silently. She kept the promise she gave to the previous
Nightreaver. There are two strong hunters in pack whom she is sure in.
Dizrug and Nefla. Tough choice. She observed them, she learned them and
from them. And now she will gladly watch one of them becoming new
Nightreaver. Who will it be? We will see. Only the strongest and the smartest
can lead the pack. These are the ways of Nightreaver.

She thinks of other branches of the Tree. Strong as well now. Stronger then
they were for many moons. But her branch is still the strongest. Well done,
Krys.

And what about you, Krys? You will just watch. The time has come to
prepare yourself for the Eternal Hunt. The time has come to concentrate on
your memories. The time has come to teach those who want to listen. Yes,
the time has come. You are no longer a hunter. You are a teacher and a
defender.

And may you find comfort and tranquillity in the sound of the wind, water,
and trees. M