The August sun was strong and hot upon her back, like an insistent lover demanding attention. Her pale flesh gleamed wetly under its rays, decorated by snakish tendrils of hair that had turned a deep auburn after climbing from the creek's lazy current. No matter how many years the young huntress had spent in the open wilderness, her skin refused to be anything but the color of fresh cream, dotted with dusky freckles.
She had a fondness for high places and overlooks, and today was no exception. The jutting rocks above the stream that flowed through the southwest portion of the Chetwood were a favorite perch. Her bare legs dangled over the edge, and she could feel the faintest wisp of damp mists puffing up from the waterfall below. The air smelled of water, mud, and sweet growing things.
Her hands were set on her lap, palms upward. With the left, her fingers curled loosely, as if gripping something invisible. With the right, she drew it up a little, turned it over, and made a lazy, stroking movement downward. Her lips were slightly parted, and from her throat came low, uncertain sounds. Several in a row, timed with the motion of her right hand. Then she would stop, place her hands back on her thighs, and look out across the sun-bathed forest.
Minutes passed, and she repeated the little ritual, humming the same three sounds over and over. Her face was solemn and focused, and after each round, she pursed her lips softly in a puzzled manner.
The first sound felt like a question. Some kind of secret or mystery, with beauty behind it. It made her heart ache.
The second was still a question, but the ache was gone from it. It felt hopeful, like a mind on the brink of understanding.
The last hummed tone was the most pleasant of the three. She didn't feel any questions in that one. It felt like a celebration of some kind. Not jubilant or noisy, but quiet and gentle. A softly happy heart.
It was a good way to pass an afternoon. Naked, sun-bathed, with a head full of things to ponder that, for once, did not have to do with the past and its ghosts.
