The Healer

Acacia woke to the frantic chirping of birds, along with a twang and the sound of something heavy falling into dry leaves on the forest floor. Frantic shuffling followed, but she had no reason to believe that the forest was safe in that moment. She leapt to her feet, sweeping the walls of willow vines aside as she peered out of her mossy hollow. The scene was as unpleasant as she had seen in years. A young doe had been felled, driven to the ground by an arrow which struck her in the shoulder. Thankfully, it had hit her shoulder blade, protecting most of her internal organs, but she bled badly, and she shook as she tried to stand.
She dropped to the ground, not caring about her own safety. If it was another of her race who had hunted the deer, she doubted that they were cannibals. Running to the deer, she bent down and calmed it as best as she could, urging it to be still before assessing its wound. the arrow penetrated enough that the full tip of it was embedded in her skin, a fact that would make it harder for her to heal the deer. She felt the area around the arrow; the bone was broken into many peices, but otherwise had hit only muscle.
As quickly as she could, Acacia tugged the barbed arrow out of the doe’s flesh, causing her to shudder more, but she made no move to stand. once the deer was again calm, she placed her hand over the damaged shoulder in preparation.
“What are you doing?!”
Acacia stood, startled out of her concentration, and the deer raised itself and fled, limping. Anger filled her as she watched it run before turning to see who had attempted to kill it and interrupted it’s healing. Twenty feet away, a man stood garbed in a leather cloak, and on his feet were tall, lace up leather boots. A hood rested in a pile behind his head, and he appeared middle aged; he bore no gray in his hin-length hair, but his face was carved with wrinkles and his hands were scarred and calloused. He stared at her as if she had offended him, mouth hanging open slightly.
“Well?! What reason have you for taking my kill?”
Her anger was renewed at his way of speaking; he was no higher in rank than she, so why would he treat her like it was the case? With the arrow in hand, she stormed towards the man, fuming.
“What reason have I for taking your kill, you say, well let me ask you this; what right have you to take its life?” Her words were halting, for she had not used the language regularly since she had left her hometown. A few mutterings and quiet curses were the only times she had spoken in a strict language.
“Why, that was going to be my dinner! I have every right to it! I tracked it and shot it myself, and you’d best give me back my arrow so I can finish what I started. Nothing short of a full quiver will do.” He held out his hand, palm up.
“Oh, you can have your arrow back!”
The man bellowed as she drove the arrow into his upturned hand, burying it deep into his muscles. She was astonished at her own actions, but she did her best not to let it show as she turned away. As occupied as the man was, he did not pursue her but hurried to return from wherever he had come from, she assumed to recieve treatment for what she had done. No doubt
he would tell all who would listen of the woman who attacked him in the woods, but she could not know how many would believe him. Hopefully they would learn their lesson, one way or another.
She climbed back up into the willow, where she ate a quick breakfast of berries and nuts while she decided what to do about this new threat. The doe headed in the direction of the oak, so if I go there I can look for her and possibly get a closer look at my race’s new settlement, she thought to herself. What she had taken for thunderclouds the day before she now realized were pillars of smoke from the furnaces and fireplaces of settlers, for they still rose from the same area, near the pines and the oaks.
Soon she was on her way, and she cursed human greed, for it drained all others of hope.

* * *
Acacia hung over the creek as she sat in the oak tree, keeping watch. She had found the doe along the path to the oak, but it had taken almost an hour of waiting and murmuring soft words before the deer was calm enough for her to heal it. Even then, the deer bolted as soon as she had healed it, for her magic felt strange and was unknown to the doe. All that remained of the injury was a bald patch of skin.
It seemed that the settlement was larger than she had thought; from here she could see the tops of the cabins that had so quickly appeared, dozens spreading from a center point where a fire pit, holding bright, large flames, roared. She was dismayed to find that she could not see the pines beyond, where another of her posts once was. Perhaps they had stolen that for themselves as well.
Now that she knew what she was looking for, Acacia found many signs of the humans throughout the forest. Before she had taken them as signs of her own passing, but now she saw that the footprints were deep and were made not by her own small, bare feet but by thick boots. If she looked closely she imagined she would find a lost arrow hidden beneath the foliage or an old stain on a fallen leaf from an animal’s blood, but she did not want to find more evidence. It seemed to make the situation more real, and although she knew just how real it was, she still hung on to the hope that it would end quickly.
Although she would have sat there all evening, studying the settlement, she knew that she needed to gather food. She visited this post less frequently, and so she did not keep food stored here. Not far from the creek several berry bushes grew, but there were few nut trees around, so she would have to collect more berries or leafy greens. stepping along the branch, she made her way towards the trunk and then down to the base of the tree before striding off in the direction of the berries, whose bushes she could see from here. Although she kept no foods in the oak, she did keep a woven grass bag which she now retrieved for carrying the berries.
Acacia knew each berry that grew here. Most of them were wineberries, a type that she favored above the others. They did not hold any real value, but they tasted good. The berries stained her already splotchy purple and red satchel, and soon the bag was filled. As much as she needed the food, the practice was calming, and she thought that even if she did not need or want the berries she might still pick them.
A single shuffle of leaves ruffled behind her. She began to turn before a hand gripped her shoulder with hands like iron and she saw something out of the corner of her eye before it smashed into the side of her head, and the world went dark.

* * *