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Fala Goes Hunting Fala Fourtusk snorted twice, decisively. She lifted each foot, stamping her trotters down through the thin frost and into the moldy leaves underneath, settling herself firmly against the earth’s grounding. Her energies were jumpy and electric in her boar form on a good day, but on this morning the woods were murmuring in a worried sussurus of windblown leaves. There was nothing for it- Fala had to ground deeper and find her way to the Arch Dryad before whatever the treegirls were mumbling about came to be. This stretch of woods was hers and she would guard it to her last dying breath. The bristles on her humped red back stood on end as the green growing energy of the forest spilled up into her. Her eyes took on a faint green glow as she turned, dowsing this way and that seeking the trail. She turned, circling in place, reaching… Ah! There! A faint whiff of apple came to her, sweet ripe scent out of season. Fala ran, surprisingly fast despite her humped shape.The apple scent led her deeper and deeper into the glen, had her dodging and ducking through tunnels of briar. As she came closer to the heart of the forest, she began to see ripples of energy, apple green tinged with red and gold. The smell of blossoms was all around her and she felt saliva pool in her mouth as she craved the sweet tart taste of the end of season’s orchard windfalls. She twisted and strained, pulling herself through a narrow opening in the brush and stumbled out into a sunny clearing. The space was circled with apple trees, a ring of ladies in waiting surrounding the great central tree, the home of the Arch Dryad of the Calderwood. Fala rushed to cross the space, nodding to the treegirls as she passed, barely making time for formality. The weight of the forest’s ominous potential rode her, driving her inwards like a whip’s lash. She skidded to s stop before her matriarch and slid to her knees, transforming into her half human half boar shape on the fly so that she could speak the tongue of the treegirls. She waited panting, for the Dryad queen to acknowledge her, her breath panting into the silence, a harsh and grating sound. The Syrwoman looked up, confused, to see the Arch Dryad bent in concentration over the prone and bloody body of- a human? --'--,--@ Hi all and welcome to my new challenge! I realized that I was missing writing fiction as part of my challenges here, and I had a bit of an idea for a story to act as a metaphor for some issues I am having in my life surrounding my body image and my relationship with food. I plan to update daily and to pair story posts with my successes and failures on the challenge as well as 4 weekly updates to make sure that Fala's story actually gets finished! Challenge goals to come in the next post.