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strong. The wood of the Looba tree
is perfect, but there aren’t many of them around. Walking around
with her eyes focused on the branches above her, Arella doesn’t see
the tangle of roots at her feet and trips. She falls to the ground
with a thump, knocking her head on the stump of an oak tree. “Gods
damn that hurts!” She says as she touches the spot where the pain
is coming from. She feels heat on her hands and instantly knows it
is blood. “Oh great!” Arella sighs. “Just what I need. A head
injury.” She brings herself to her feet, and instantly feels dizzy.
“Maybe sitting down for a couple of minutes might be a good
idea.”

    As Arella sits
on the mossy ground massaging her head and looking at the roots the
tripped her, she notices something. The wood of the root that
tripped her is a dark colour, almost black. She moves forwards to
investigate it further. “This root is bendy, but strong enough to
not break when I fell over it.” She wonders. She takes out her
dagger and begins cutting at the root as close to the base of the
tree as she can get. As she hacks at the root, she notices that the
flesh within is a deep purple colour. “An anamoa tree!” She
exclaims aloud. Anamoa trees are extremely rare, but the wood is
the best for making weapons. The Looma tree is good, and the wood
is strong and bendy, but nothing beats an anamoa tree for
strength.

    After what
seemed like hours, Arella finally freed the root from the base of
the tree, she begins pulling it from the ground. It lies over a
meter long above ground, and is thicker than any root she has seen
on a normal tree. As she pulls, the root seems to just come away
from the ground and soon she is holding a two meter long piece of
root thicker than her arm at its thickest. The root has a slight
natural curve which will make it easier to carve into the right
shape, and it is strong enough not to bend under pressure. “This is
perfect!” Arella looks down at herself, covered in mud with dried
blood on her arms and in her hair from her fall. “I must look a
right mess.” She laughs to herself.

    Arella
continues to walk out of the forest, careful where to put her feet
and towards the lake near her village. It is now nearly lunch time
and everyone in her village will be wide awake. Arella knows she
must go back to the village to get fresh clothes, but she cannot
take her anamoa root with her. She stashes it in a bush with white
flowers and makes a mental note of where she left it.

    The walk back to the village from here takes her a while, but
it is a nice day. The clouds are covering the sun, meaning she is
not finding it too hard to see from the light. “ I have to put some coal dust under my eyes when I get back to
the village.” Arella thinks.

    Once back at the village, Arella quickly goes to her small
tent, picks up a fresh pair of leggings and cloak. Arella’s stomach
growls at the smell of meat coking over the fire. “Nope. Can’t stop
to eat. I have to get myself clean and make this bow.” Arella is
determined to do this by the time the sun goes down. Before leaving
her tent, Arella takes some flint, for sharpening her dagger and
making a fire. She puts the flint in her boot next to the dagger
for safe keeping. It scratches against her skin a little. She moves
her sock up her leg to stop the rubbing. On her way out of the tent
she sees an old fire that has long since burnt out. She puts her
fingers into the ashes and rubs it under her eyes.
“ This will make seeing much easier.” Arella leaves the village with strange looks and
whispers from the others, but no more than usual.

    Once she has collected the anamoa wood, she comes to the edge
of the forest, where the trees meet the water, she decided to
follow it round. Walking between the trees and the water is tricky,
but it means she can get to a place where she will be able to bathe
and make her bow in peace. After a short walk, Arella comes to an
area where the lake is shallow and