The metal that had cut the bark deep enough to draw sap did now bite on her flesh. As her blood poured from the slash onto her carved name, the life essence of tree and first one intermingled, a dark-crimson celebration of this special day for her.
Frami looked then at the skies her mother's line revered, and wondered if her ancestors would be proud of her. Not many days ago she was at the walls of Arescod, she and her warriors taking many lives, but also paying a heavy price against the Ascalonian arrows and lances. Good first and second ones fallen, remembered in a large carved stone monument erected by the winners, she among them, unfallen and victorious. And now, her reward at hand.
Today was her entrance into her father's clan. At the large Kailmamont tree her ancestral family dagger had carved her name among a select group of others, but a score of them, all proven warriors of the Clan d'Serrai. And then the same dagger had pierced her skin to open her blood vessels to paint the carved runes with blood, sealing the deal in the traditional ritual manner.
With a confident grin and a healing wound that would fade into a small scar, she stood up again and left. It was time to see the matriarch she had pledged fealty to, and perform her duties.