Humiliation is a Virture

 

A rustle of leaves alerted the small critters grazing in the clearing. Rabbits stood ram-rod straight as their ears attempted to tune in to the location of the noise while bluejays halted their lovely calls. A deer and its fawn paused in its mid-noon meal, the mother glancing over her shoulder while subtly adjusting her footing to prepare to run. The clearing grew eerily silent, a sense of foreboding filling the air and tainting the peaceful ambience.

 

Snap

 

Immediately, the rabbits scurried back to their dark dwellings while their aerial companions screeched and took the skies in a hurry. The flurry of feathers lazily glided down towards the forest floor, their decent suddenly disturbed by the pair of deer prancing back into the heart of the forest. The clearing was no longer safe to graze any longer. 

 

It had already been marked as her territory. 

 

Silence fell upon the clearing once more, the noon sun illuminating the field with its graceful rays and flowers swaying in the breeze. An audible sigh could be heard and a lithe figure emerged from behind the bushes. Corn-silk hair gleamed brightly against the rays, almost reflecting off the foliage if leaves had not been tucked behind the strands. 

 

Anabelle cast an upwards frown at the leaf that dangled in her line of vision. So much for her camouflage technique to get in touch with nature. Perhaps a human's stench was indeed too strong for the animals, she observed. Dusting her hair from the leaves with a hand, Anabelle adjusted the grip on her staff and proceeded to enter the clearing. 

 

Not only was this among the few areas that were preserved carefully by the magick community and by the creatures of the forest, but held a hidden value that most people would fail to recognize. 

 

"A bush of mugwort! How rare," Anabelle commented aloud when her eyes fell onto a discolored shrub that stood out against the vibrant trees. 

 

Kneeling by the bush, she delicately fingered the leaves, feeling the rough yet powdery texture. Mugroot these days, along with other various plants, have been almost driven to extinction thanks to humans overusing them for their own purposes. Compared to the magick communities, humans were simple beings with only selfish desires to continue living instead of pausing to take a good look around themselves and appreciate nature. One day, all the plants known by the magick community will vanish and the reign of humans will begin to prosper. 

 

Anabelle--certainly not your typical female who would become squeamish at the thought of getting down on their knees to pluck the root--hiked up her tattered skirt and pulled out a dagger strapped on her side by a bound of leather. She inspected the blade closely to make sure the weapon was sharp before ducking her head underneath the brush.

 

Her vision immediately darkened but soon adjusted to the weak light that shone through the gaps of overlapped branches. Fumbling with her knife, the blonde pawed her way through the vegetation in hopes of finding the root. They say that a mugroot's leaves could become potentially poisonous to the body if exposed too long by the sunlight and begins to age. Local apothecaries liked to experiment with these leaves, only to find their patients getting intoxicated by the drug's sweet smell and slowly die. But only a select few know the secret of successfully extracting the true value of the plant. 

 

The very center of the plant, where it was rooted firmly to the ground and the tiny offsprings sprung from, was the prime location to grab a handful of the leaves. Mugroots tend to grow and nurture better in dark and damp places, such as close to the ground, and their fresh leaves provided protection and prevents fatigue for journeys. Anabelle definitely would need that if she was to continue searching for more herbs outside the general area. 

 

With a feeble slash of her dagger, a branch of mugroot was severed off from the main bush and fell into her palm. The corner of her lips lifted up a fraction at the prospect of the root in her hand. Anabelle would need to record these findings in her journal for further reference. 

 

She began to backpedal her way out of the bush, slowly moving one appendage at at time. It was tricky getting out of mugroot bush, especially since the branches had a tendency to snare at animals or pieces of clothing. Stories in childhood often retold a hero or warrior's path be hindered by loosing their footing due to carelessly stepping over a blooming mugroot bush. Anabelle knew she had to be careful if she didn't want her dress to get further tor-

 

Suddenly Anabelle froze when she felt a tug at her skirt followed by a obnoxious sound of the torn threads in a piece of fabric. For a few moments, she remained still while propped on all fours in the bush. A cool wind tickled her warm exposed skin, making her shudder involuntarily at the contact. What was worse was the area where the branches had snagged at was at her upper right thigh, dangerously close to her 

 

This was not good. If someone saw her on all fours in a bush with a torn skirt, Anabelle swore she would either crawl deeper into the bush in shame or discard her dignity and beat the person senseless. She began to panic. 

 

"Take it easy, Anabelle," she muttered to herself despite the grim situation. "It's alright, there's no one our here for miles. Breathe slowly, in and out." Her only living grace was because she was someone who could control magick, chanting mantras was not a problem and helped increase her self-esteem. Magick certainly did wonders. The next few moments were dedicated in chanting these words aloud while pausing in between to draw deep breathes and exhale. It took the woman awhile to recover herself, but somehow, she was able to regain her confidence back and welled her eyes shut.

 

Time to test out this so called courage. 

 

Gathering the remains of her skirt with one hand and sheathing her dagger back to her thigh, Anabelle took another big breath and proceeded to repeat the same operation.

 

Light was starting to flood her senses again as she slowly emerged from the bush. Her legs brushed over warm grass and flowers that lay scattered around the clearing. Her thigh and butt were now being basked in the rays of the sun while her back was also beginning to warm up. She was almost there! Just a little bit more and she was fre-!

 

Snap

 

A sense of fear washed over the blonde woman when she heard the sound of a twig snap underneath something. Footsteps began to approach her, heavy and almost deliberate. Anabelle's levels of panic spiked quickly as her fingers unconsciously curled against the dirt. Someone was going to see her! The woman's fear was suddenly coming at last, and she felt like the prey caught between its last line of defense and its predator.  

 

Déjà vu, much? 

 

Another crunch of leaves being crushed underneath a boot was heard and echoed in the wilderness. 

 

There was nothing our heroine could do. Half of her body was sticking out like a sore-thumb with her black dress desperately trying to cover her womanly shame while the other half remained estranged in the branches. Her bravado had vanished as quickly as it came and her mind became clouded in confusion and panic. Anabelle twisted her neck in vain to get a good luck behind her and her possible assailant from the corner of her eye. 

 

Then, a commotion of an ungraceful creature came crashing through the dense foliage and stumbled into the clearing. The sound of metallic chains jangled loudly as the being attempted to regain its balance. 

 

"I knew I saw something out here!"

 

A masculine voice. Anabelle desperately pleaded to whomever was watching over her to use whatever powers they had to divert this man's attention away from her derrière. She could feel a piercing gaze from behind her, feeling humiliated and embaressed of her current state. Oh how she wished she could have just melted into a puddle of goo to save herself.

 

The steps came closer and Anabelle unconsciously tensed. The man sat on his haunches behind her, elbows leaning on his leather-padded knees and muscular covered arms dangling in front of him. He was indeed wearing boots, a darker shade of leather and adorned with bits of metal to serve as buckles. The rest of his upper body was shourouded by the leaves and Anabelle could not possibly read his intent. 

 

"Need a little help down there, Miss?"