The nose of the little thing was digging into her palm as she clambered her way back towards the edges of the Wardwood. She didn't know what the heck it was, or why the heck she had even felt the need to take the thing from the tree in the first place. Or how she had even found the tree. God. It was like something had called her there -- an idea which was, to Lytka's mind, completely absurd. Besides, if it -- whatever IT was -- had called her to the damn tree and then made her climb all the way up to the top of the thing to reach this specific totem, it should at least have the courtesy to guide her back out of the bloody forest again afterward. Not that she couldn't find the way herself with a little effort -- she was a gypsy after all, even if she was half-blood -- but a little help would have been more than welcome.
A short curse spat out of Lytka's mouth as she tripped over a root that was hidden under the fallen leaves gathered on the forest floor. Her hand, tightly clutched before, opened as she caught herself, the little figurine falling with her into the muck. It landed a few feet away, its little feet mud-splattered. Lytka sat up onto her knees, feeling the indentations the thing had left in the skin of her palm. She stared at it, resentful. She didn't understand why it had brought her out here or what she was supposed to do with it. I should just leave the thing, Lyt thought, her eyes narrowing as she looked determinedly away from the totem. Something in her chest gave a little spasm of dismay at the idea. She let out a sigh of frustration as she crawled over to the little stag, the puff of air blowing up over her forehead and moving aside a few unruly curls of blonde hair.
"Fine," Lyt grumbled, picking up the thing and standing up to brush what mud and leaves she could off of herself. "Fine, okay. Fine. But it's not like I need something else to make me stand out." The little gypsy girl's frown faded a little -- against her will, mind -- as she wiped the little stag off with the hem of her sash. It was quite pretty, at least. She sighed again, resignedly, brushed a few locks of hair behind one ear with a muddy hand. Her eyes rose to the sun, gauging the hour. Just past noon. The whole tedious journey hadn't even taken two days. Her mother probably hadn't even noticed her absence, lost as she always was in her own head. Besides, it wasn't like Lytka had never disappeared for a few days before. Maybe she would be lucky and no one would notice the strange little totem at all.
Something told her that was a futile hope. Clutching the stag tightly in her palm once more, Lytka continued to trudge back toward the edge of the Wardwood towards the familiar sounds of the gypsies' camp. The smell of something cooking over a wood fire wafted towards her on the wind and she hurried her steps. Suddenly she realized she was ravenous. Maybe there'll be venison for dinner, she thought, though it would be but a small recompense for her all her toil.
