Chapter two of Bittersweet Tragedy

Hello, this is the first draft to my novel. I am aware there will be grammar mistakes and ect, what I really would like to know however is whether the story is interesting, and it makes sense.
I know its still very early on within the drafts, but since I have created this whole new world I don't want it to become sluggish or boring.
thanks for reading!





Chapter Two:

Dragging a dead stag wrapped in the pelt of a mountain lion back to my village proved harder than I had anticipated and I was gasping for breath by the time I had returned, every inch of my body seeming to tremble with fatigue. The downpour had finally ceased, but night had well and truly begun to wash over the sky, the bioluminescent algae that coated every inch of the forest glowing blue and green in the darkness. The arm that had been shredded in my fight was left in ribbons, and while the gashes had stopped bleeding, the pain caused dark spots to form in the corners of my vision and a nasty headache had begun to bloom on my brow. In the clearing ahead of me, standing proudly and starkly against the wildness of the woods was my village. The wooden huts were situated in a circle and in its centre was a large bonfire that we lit for festivals or important ceremonies such as the one that happened to fall on that very same day. From where I stood, or rather swayed I could already hear the drums made from animal skin being beaten with sticks, bone rattlers filled with dried seeds were shaken and flutes crafted from tree branches pierced through the air. If I pushed past my blurring vision, I could see figures dancing, their bodies swaying and writhing alongside the flame that licked its way up into the sky. I stumbled forward, tugging on the rope that I had tied around the stag's leg and made my way to the rows of houses, muttering my hellos to the villagers I passed, their faces merging into one. They might have asked me whether I needed help, or if I was alright because judging from how I felt, I couldn't have looked much better, but I marched onwards with only one specific goal in mind and not one faerie could stop me at that moment.
My ears pricked at the sound of singing and ululation. Usually I would've loved the sound of my people celebrating and singing the songs that had been passed down from generation to generation, but with my headache and growing irritable mood, I wanted nothing more than to shove my head down a rabbit hole for some peace and quiet. I found the Shaman sitting on a large log beside the fire and while her face was always stern and ageing, it was utterly beautiful. Similar to my own appearance, she looked nothing like my kin. Her body was a similar build to our Elven cousins that hailed in the neighbouring continent, which meant she was tall and slender, her torso elongated as well as her legs. The only difference being her hair was an inky mass of black curls to the light blonde colour of the Elves and her eyes were unusually round, similar to those of an owl. Her yellow irises met mine from across the clearing and she frowned deeply at my pallid expression, the action making the animal bone she had pierced through the bridge of her nose crinkle.

"{Daughter, you have returned and with a mighty hunt it seems..." she said by a way of greeting, eying up the Stag behind me. "The Goddess must've been smiling down on you today."

"I believe she was Mother, our tribe will eat well tonight."

The shaman offered me a tight lipped smile and patted the empty space beside her. "Come sit my child, I'll inspect your wounds."

I staggered over to the log and plonked myself down ungraciously, exhaustion seeping its way into my bones. I sighed deeply, pleased to be finally sitting down and resting my aching feet. My mother gently raised my arm so she could properly inspect my injuries before poking and prodding the skin around the area that was swollen and sore. I held back my hiss of discomfort and refused the urge to pull my arm out of her withered hands. Around us Faeries hurried by, clutching various items in their arms, their horns glittering orange in the reflection of the fire. Some watched us from the corner of their eyes and whispered to one another, observing me warily. I chose to ignore the pointed stares and focused on the emerald coloured grass beneath my feet, which was soft and long, tickling my bare ankles. I was used to such unpleasantries and had grown accustomed to having a thick skin. My mother was as unusual as I was, but she was a severe Faerie that commanded respect as she sauntered by, nature seeming to bend to her will alongside the Faeries. But a half-beast wasn't nothing more than a brute and predator; and they made sure I never forgot that. Which is why since the moment I could walk, I was handed a weapon and taught to kill and hunt, even if as a child I had cried each time I laid down another's life. Their excuses always were that the Great Goddess had crafted my body after a Lion, therefore my destiny was to be a savage and there was only so many times you could push someone until they became the monster you made them out to always be.

"The cuts are deep, but you haven't severed anything important so I won't need to stitch it up. You are incredibly lucky." My Mother murmured and pulled from a pouch tied to her loincloth what looked to be dried dandelion leaves. "Chew on this, I must prepare for the ceremony."

"Thank you Mother."

She waved me off and rose off the log on sturdy legs, her woven shawl that had been thrown over her shoulders shifted with the movement and wafted her scent around me - Jasmine and elderflowers, and she departed in the direction of her hut. I ate the leaves cringing at the bitter taste and two Faeries wordlessly came and took the stag off my hands so they could prepare the meat for the celebration tonight.
I couldn't help but feel somewhat lonely. Mated couples wandered past holding hands, staring at each other lovingly and I scowled at them all. Disgust bubbling in my Stomach at the lovesick fools.
Then it occurred to me that maybe the villagers disliked me so much because I sat on a log, judging their happiness and looked as pleasant as a hissing cat. I shifted on my seat uncomfortable, and when the next Faerie strode past I gave them the warmest, biggest smile I could offer. Only they had taken one look at my elongated canines and bolted as far away from me as they could.

"When you smile, You're supposed to mean it and not just bare your teeth to other Faeries."

I rolled my eyes and turned to see a heavily pregnant woman approaching me. Her dark smooth skin was harsh against the bone-white colour of her horns that twisted and curved from the top of her head and she had wound strips of dyed leather around them decadently. Her caramel hair was left unbound and She was smiling broadly at me. I hated to admit it but she was absolutely stunning.

"Not everyone has your effortless beauty, Petrie." I mumbled.

She chuckled and as effectively as she could tried to lower herself down onto the log. I threw an arm around her thin shoulders and she offered me a thankful look once she had settled, her chest heaving.
"I can't wait till the Baby is finally here." she groaned, "I want to be able to see my toes again or at least sit down without feeling like I'm about to topple over."

"At least you have that youthful, pregnant glow."

"Oh please, that's just sweat. Go for an hour jog and you'll get it too."

I laughed darkly and focused my gaze on the bonfire ahead of us. Petrie was my only friend in the entire tribe. She was gentle, delicate, and could only be described to be like a fresh blooming flower in the midst of spring. The children absolutely adored her and it was her job to teach them the ways of the forest and the Great Goddess. We didn't learn to read nor write as we never needed those kinds of skills, but we passed down our ancestors' stories through dances and songs. Each Faerie in the tribe did have a particular skill set that contributed towards the success of our village. I was a born hunter, Petrie was a born mother and helped the younglings to decide what their path should be. It could be anything from weaving to harvesting crops. But we all were a signified unit. A family and despite me being slightly feared for my differences; the tribe had never treated me unkindly.

"Well... you truly look awful," Petrie sniggered, before reaching over to pluck out a twig that had been buried within my braid. Her necklace that had been crafted from wood and adorned with Feathers, a fashion all Faerie women wore to cover their breasts, brushed against my arm.

"I might've gotten into a slight argument with a Mountain Lion."

She snorted, placing a hand on her swollen stomach as if to brush a delicate hand over the babe growing inside. It wouldn't be long now. Possibly a week or two before she'll be holding the bundle in her arms and the whole tribe will come together to witness the newborn be given a name. I glanced around the village looking for the familiar long, beaded hair and broad shoulders I had become accustomed to. But couldn't spot Matthias within the throng of bodies.

"Matthias left just after you did this morning, he's down south scouting the coastlines." Petrie said, noting my stare.

"That must've been difficult for him." I murmured. Faerie males were territorial of their mates at the best of times, let alone one who was as vulnerable as Petrie was in her current condition. Leaving her must've felt like stones within his heart.

"Oh you should've seen him arguing with your mother, it would've been funny if she hadn't been so adamant of him leaving. He yowled like a kicked Thylacine hound."

My brow furrowed, if my Mother had forced Matthias to leave his mate so suddenly there must've been a plausible reason for it. My mind raced with possibilities. But I couldn't find any that would explain the urgency. The tribe had mere inconveniences, such as illnesses or a rogue animal. And we never had visitors from the neighbouring continent called Ebes. The Elves were far too preoccupied with their war with the Orcs to bother us. Not that they would anyway, we were nothing more than savages to them. Even though many aeons ago we were created from the same clay mound they were and called their island our homes as well. However our ancestral songs do not tell the tale of how we came to be on our tiny, forest covered isle. It was as if someone had wiped that part of our history from our minds. All we knew was the first Shaman had led my ancestors here and forbade them to leave. Which they later came to be grateful for as a brutal civil war sprung up across Ebes that still raged to that day.

"Did my Mother give any inclination to why she sent Matthias south?"

Petrie shook her head and I knew I had to question my Mother about it later. Ahead of us the flames seemed to flare and the entire tribe had come to link arms to sing the first song of the night. Outside of the circle Faeries clapped and hit their chests rhythmically alongside the instruments. At once the villagers moved around the fire and their feathery voices filled the air. I found myself breathless just watching them. My eyes fell shut and I let the music encompass my heart, my entire soul. The crescendo rose and I flicked my eyes open to see the Shaman break apart the dancers, a long black robe trailing behind her. On her head was a deer skull, white ribbon was looped around the horns and fell down to her back. On her hands and feet were bracelets and anklets that made her jingle as she trudged forward. Her skin underneath the cloth was bare, but swirls of colourful paint covered her body. We all watched holding in a breath as she took her place before the flames and raised her bony arms. Her voice was raspy and raw as the song in the ancient tongue tumbled from her lips. She was far from talented but we were all transfixed nonetheless.
This prayer was not joyful. It was obscure and compelling. It told the legend of the Goddesses daughter, who gave up her immortality for an Elven prince she had fallen in love with. But he was not as pure hearted as he had seemed. He stole her remaining power and with it tore through the earth. He slaughtered and birthed creatures so foul they would crush cities and feast on flesh. Until one day he made the fatal mistake of murdering the beloved daughter and the Goddess with her grief and rage paralysed the prince, casting his body into the deepest parts of the sea. Where he would spend eternity drowning over and over again. The Prayer insured he would never be released from her spell, to wreak havoc once more.

But before the song could be completed. My Mothers body convulsed and she dropped to her knees. Foam sprayed from her mouth. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head and her body spasmed horrifyingly like a fish out of water. Villagers screamed and wailed. I sprung up from the log and raced towards her. Ignoring my Mothers alarming appearance and lifting her head to my lap, tears spilled from my eyes and I was utterly petrified. I had no idea what to do. But her body suddenly became still, her eyes falling shut. As quickly as I could I felt for a pulse. I could barely feel one at all.

"Help me carry her to her hut!" I roared at no one in particular.

Someone, I don't know who, helped me lift her from the ground. Together we carried her limp frame and in that moment I couldn't see anything of the powerful shaman that made faeries quiver by just a glance. I could only see My mothers frail, feeble body and that terrified me more than it should've.