prompt: character - writing
fable: Elide
entry:
378 words
- Elide claims her home in the northeastern isles, miles of boggy marsh and misty moors making up the station in which she tends to. Many of the kits and fawnlings from the forests surrounding the marsh frequent her home to play and gossip, sometimes bringing treasured gifts to leave at her muddy feet.
A preserved sprig of holly and fern, tied neatly on a branch with woven fur.
- A wolf pup's frightened yips called her attention under the blanket of night, the fear and pain clearly heard in their howl. Rushing to the pup in distress, the young Elide finds him stuck in the thickest part of the bog, struggling to stay afloat on moonlit waters. Moving quickly but with care, she gently bites his scruff and extricates him from an early grave, carrying him to the sturdy banks. The poor pup can only stare in amazement, Elide truly glowing like the moon itself as she sets him to the soft grass, safe.
She lowers her head to the pup, and sets her forehead against his.
He returns as a strong wolf with an entourage, many moons later, laying this gift at her feet with a bow of the head and a gracious lick to her jaw. His pups nipping and jumping at his feet do not know Elide as their father does, but practice their bow to her all the same. Undoubtedly, she bows back with a playful smile, and the pups spend the day playing about in the shallows of the marsh under their watch.
The winding vines of a willow tree, coiled with spring flowers.
- These vines, Elide received from a revered Old One. The Ent she had saved from a woodsman's axe, driving the ignorant one far from her marsh and far from the Old Ones. The Ent draped her mane with his leaves in thanks, a precious gift she treasures most deeply.
In the springtime blooming, several marshbirds bring her coiled and woven strands of wild flowers, tucking them alongside her green vines.
"The flowers looked awful pretty miss, and we thought they'd look even prettier on you!"
Unable to take a compliment, she blushes a deep pink and tucks her head. She loves the additional decoration, however, and lets the marshbirds weave them snugly into her mane. She allows them to take strands for their nests in thanks.