The forest grew denser with thorny bushes that grew enormously tall, some even twelve feet high planted purposefully between the trees to create a natural barrier. The only opening within the wall of thorns is a hidden, but carefully cut open pathway in the copse. The bright moonlight shines overhead peeking through the Forbidden Forest in patches.
Rowan teleported from the hidden chamber directly to the entrance outside of the centaur village. The wall of thorns is thick leaving only a small opening in the copse to slip through. Nets hang high above in the trees to capture any beast that may attempt to climb or fly over the thorn wall.
Pausing for a few moments, Rowan waited in place. She closed her eyes and opened her mind mapscape but did not see Nadira flying toward her. Opening her eyes, she pensively glanced around. It was most usual for Nadira to come to her. Either Nadira was slumbering or otherwise occupied.
Certain that Nadira will not be coming, Rowan passes through the narrow entrance in the cope and emerges in a lush green clearing. The air is warm and inviting as large hide tents are set up through the clearing. The animal hide tents resemble the Native American Tipi's only less vertical and far more open resembling more of the Sámi Lavvu style except that these tents are far larger and grander due to the Centaur's size and stature.
At the late hour, the young centaur children are safely tucked away in bed. A few youths are still out chatting and laughing by the fireside. Most of the adults are resting inside the tents, but a few older centaurs from middle-aged to old stand outside gazing through the canopy up at the starry heavens.
Two fierce scarred warriors stand at the entrance and raise their spears at her. A young maroon-colored centaur narrows his eyes at her, while his companion a thinly bearded centaur nods his head in recognition. The two of them slowly lower their spears to stand.
Soft trotting across the grass is heard as the Chief of the Centaurs, Magorian appears swiftly at the entrance. Magorian is a proud, muscular centaur that is high-cheekboned with long black hair. "Child of the Founders," he greeted Rowan with a faint bowing of his head.
"The Shaman awaits you," Magorian crisply said gesturing for her to follow him revealing thick ropy scars across his body incurred during the battle against the giants.
For a moment, Rowan falters before recovering and doing as she is bid. The path is familiar having walked the path before. At the edge of the clearing, there is an old, battered tent dyed with ancient scenes and more recent paintings on the tent depicting the past of the centaurs. There is a fresh coat of paint depicting the recent battle against the giants as the centaurs and unlikely allies, the acromantula's battled the giants.
A trace of guilt passes through Rowan as she turns away from the depicted battle. She turns her gaze toward the large, deep pool of glistening clear water. The waters are crystal clear and reflect the night sky like a mirror. The night breeze carries the scent of various plants, herbs, and flowers kept in a large, well-fenced pen to keep rabbits and baby centaurs out.
Baby centaurs tend to get into everything and anything as they possess no concept of self-preservation. There was a very good reason why centaur mothers were so fierce with their young. Otherwise, their young would surely perish from sheer naivety.
Beyond the tent is a large wooden building, and a warehouse. It is the only building of any kind in the centaur village. It is only accessible by the Shaman or the Chief.
Magorian cooly gestures to Rowan to enter. Her midnight indigo-colored eyes unconsciously linger on the new fierce scars across his chest and hind rear. She bows solemnly to Magorian, the Chief of the Centaurs, before entering the tent. The tent opening is high to accommodate the height of a centaur and so with ease she enters without having to bend her head down. The air smells faintly of mint and other soothing herbs; but not an overpowering scent rather just enough to relax the spirit and mind, a perfect balance.
The tent is lit by a warm yellow light produced from a beautiful, crafted stone lamp by the merfolk. Rowan knew for a fact that Merchieftainess Murcurs traded with the centaurs. There was an active trade between the centaurs of the Forbidden Forest and the merfolk of the lake.
Sprawled on thick, comfortable-looking cushions and an ancient carpet that spoke of an ancient trade with humans (likely witches and wizards) is Firenze. Firenze looks youthful as ever with a swimmer's build, slender but muscled. His white-blond hair is pulled back in a French braid. Bright magical bird feathers are neatly intertwined into his long-braided hair. Each feather is perfectly preserved, and each feather is distinctly different, none belong to the same beast.
Although loosely hanging from Firenze's chest is a bone necklace with a single claw and fang from the most dangerous beast the tribe had ever slain, a dragon. However, there is a new and rather large addition to the bone necklace, the tooth of a giant. Rowan's eyes widen in recognition of the giant tooth.
Rowan's eyes flicker upward. Firenze expression is much more solemn and mature than before. They had not seen each other for over a month yet so much change had come about. His bright, pale sapphire eyes do not glitter as before but are firm and resolute.
The largest change though is the scars on his palomino quarters and on his arms. Firenze had been wounded during the attack and it showed. Tragically, as a result, he succeeded Aldonius, the former centaur shaman who had perished during the battle and became the new shaman of the Centaur Tribe.
Rowan's eyes flicker to the mark on Firenze that had been made by Nadira marking him as the future shaman to be. A self-fulfilled prophecy that was fulfilled far earlier than anyone had ever expected. Not even Rowan.
A lazy smile slowly appears on Firenze's face in greeting. "It is good to see you again, Rowan." He closed his eyes for a second as if sensing something before opening them again. "I am glad to see that you are safe having successfully completed your ward rite."
Firenze paused and slightly raised his brow at her. "Though I found myself distressed when I sensed the presence of the snake spirit of the distance sands," as he pointedly eyed Rowan.
Rowan showed no sign of surprise at Firenze being to sense the lingering magic of the ward rite on her nor having sensed the appearance of Nehebkau. As a centaur, Firenze was closely tied to the land. Even more so as the shaman of the tribe.