The day had gone eventless, fruitful in its perfect simplicity, its serene flow. The black that Levani had purged during the morning hours had been scrubbed clean from her flesh, from her mind, and she felt anew. Had lounged, even, for a short time in the kamuna tree, reading through another book that she had received in a trade with a traveling merchant, silently mouthing every new word that she discovered, snagged for but a moment while she deciphered its meaning. The blackbirds provided a song to complement her reprieve, heralding the slow death of the sun as they feasted on the fruits that hung swollen on the branches. It was a rare moment of peace, a breath of tranquility amidst the darkest days.<br/><br/>The hairs stood on the back of Levani’s neck before she so much as heard it, the raging, curdling scream of something unnatural. A familiar, guttural death rattle that made the soul tremble, that made her muscles stand rigid and flexed, ready to fight. The book that she had been holding was dropped, landing on its delicate parchment pages. Most of her more severe articles of clothing had been shed, leaving her to simple attire. Her leather breeches, fitting close to the swell of her hips and thighs, her long boots. A loose, silken shirt spilled down her front, over the curves of her chest and lean belly. It was split at the sides, gaping open, but black wrappings guarded her breasts underneath. Sleeveless, the curvature of her arms were bare, dark ink embedded in the flesh wrapping over her shoulders from her back like spined wings. A belt with her dagger’s holster was thrown quickly around her, her staff taken from its leaning against the wall.<br/><br/>As she breached the haven of roots, Levani scrunched her nose and recoiled. Blood soaked the air, weighting it, choking it. The black was entwined underneath, in thick, acrid ribbons that mocked her senses lasciviously. Though she had thought Asdenni clean of the filth, it had crawled back underneath her nose, scorching the land as it went, closing in on her home. She had been relaxing while it destroyed and wrought havoc. Wretched. Shameful.<br/><br/>Watching now into the crags of the trees and the soft veil of dusk, Levani was unsure of where it had called to her from. What, even, had caused it to scream. The burdensome cretin had sounded different from those that she often hunted; larger, fiercer, and she only briefly worried over such implications. She shook her head, ridding herself of the distraction. Now was the time to deal with the circumstances she’d let occur, not ponder.<br/><br/>Levani’s primal perception came to bear itself, and she was led by a sanguine scent, moving her feet to the other side of the kamuna tree. It was an arduous trek, and she climbed as deftly and as gracefully as if she had lived forever in its labyrinth. Though shadows had meant to impede her, masking the roots and the pitfalls in obscurity, golden eyes pierced the dark, and she navigated just as easily as if she was not wearing her human skin.<br/><br/>On the other side of the tree, the anxiety of the forest was palpable. There was something there that they did not want, something that was<i>Other</i>, that was anathema. If the woods could shift and crawl away from it, they would, and it was their terror, their disdain, that led her the rest of the way to a corpse that had just breached the edge of the clearing.<br/><br/>It was a man, without doubt, with a handsome, angular face, despite the crimson rivulets that made themselves down from his lips. He had been laying on his back, an enormous sword implanted in the earth not far from his body. That weapon, and his body, were drenched in blood, soaked in it. If Levani were to guess, he would have died from his grievous wounds, where he was torn across his stomach, just between the shielding plates of his armor. How he was here, in the heart of the wood, she was not sure. She could tell so much as to where he had come from, glancing up to see the scarlet trail he had left. Though she had meant to follow it, and deal with the carcass later, she was curious. She knelt down, inhaling, searching, before she turned her head to blanch. The touch of black was on him, its wreaking stench apparent now that she was close to him. Seeing as the forest was quiet now, he must have killed it before his death. He must have been the cause of its shriek.<br/><br/>Before Levani could stand to look for the black’s unhallowed cadaver, she noticed a slight, trembling rise to the man’s chest.<br/><br/>“<i>Vylisker!</i>He’s alive!” She shouted, startled. To be sure, she leaned down, cheek close to his face. A small trickle of warm air stroked the sensitive curve of her ear and she gasped. Surprised was an understatement. “You should be dead,” she said quietly, colored with disbelief. If she did not move, he<i>would</i>be dead.<br/><br/>A quick observation surmised that Levani was significantly smaller than the man, and she was unsure that she could carry him safely. She stood and lifted her staff, rocking it into the earth. She forced magic into the dirt, this time imposing her will, asking the living and dead and inanimate things beneath to thread together, to aid her in this task. They fed on her energy, flourished with it, lively and vibrant and ravenous. Levani felt it drain her, but expressed no qualms, only let it feast. The ground beneath the man moved, lifting him into the air. A golem of dead roots and rock and clay rose, its flat back the grasses which he had collapsed on. It moved on four legs, marked by runes, steady, slow, each step a crash against the earth. Levani moved by its side, her gaze continuously at the trees, eyeing the shadows that watched back, still as death.<br/><br/>Rounding the tree, the golem hunkered down before the roots, a still guardian. Levani placed a hand on its face, uttering, “Phydel lyh.”<i>‘I will call upon you again.’</i>The runes on its legs lost their glow, but it remained in its form, statuesque and silent. The tree aided her down, as she offered her magic to it as well, a sweat breaking across her brow. Its roots cradled the man, shifted and traded until he was inside, laid across her nest of a bed. The hovel that Levani had made herself beneath the tree was one of many in Asdenni, though this was her favorite. It was simply furnished, with a small bed for one, though it was filled with a plethora of plush furs and blankets. There was a wooden chair and table, the latter stacked with odd books from a plethora of languages - only half of which she understood. Drying herbs hung from the belly of the tree above them and salted meats sat on a shelf in jars, along with collections of fungi, leaves, feathers, and a plethora of strangely-colored liquids. Just outside of her burrow was a clay fireplace, which the tree had - understandably - forbade that she bring inside, though it had allowed small candles.<br/><br/>When the man had been lowered, Levani grabbed her two wooden buckets, and took off on foot to the nearby stream. Once they’d been filled, she returned, and got to work removing his armor - after she checked again that he was indeed still breathing. She fought and struggled with some of the straps and buckles, but she did not relent until his bear cloak was crumpled by the table and the plates shielding his chest were sitting next to the bed, exposing the worst of his wounds. The black was there, on his flesh, but could not seem to so much as dive into his veins, much as it wished. She wondered then if he was like her, as she filled her hands with power, with energy, and consecrated his skin. The bleeding had already come to a slow crawl, so she went about cleaning away the clots that would hinder her efforts. A small bone needle was extracted from her things, along with string twine, and she set herself to drawing the slice across his belly together. It was a haphazard effort, quick, but it would do. Once she had finished, biting off the end of the thread, she packed it with mosses from one of her many jars, the plant still moist from the excursion she’d found it on, and wrapped him with clean linen. Lucky, seeing as it was the last of it.<br/><br/>Despite the damage, he still seemed to be alive, and Levani was almost sure that he was unlike other humans. The blood from his mouth warned her that he most likely was bleeding internally - with the stomach wound, he should have been drained, dead when she found him or dead when she worked on him, but he was strong. Much stronger than even his muscles would tell.<br/><br/>By now, Levani had exhausted some of her most abundant pools of energy. Her skin was touched with sweat and she could feel the whisper and promise of sleep beckon her, but she refused its song. Instead, she sat on the chair next to her ward, picked up the book from the floor that she had dropped earlier. She lit a candle, for his sake should he wake, and began to read, internally feeling as though if she should sleep, he would die while she dreamt.