The flaming arrow flew past my head, nicking my ear. Searing hot pain shot through me the flames licking at my left ear. I looked behind me. Eight looming figures, bulky in size and manner, their rough hands alight in a breath-taking flame. Orcs. I ran as fast as I could, ignoring the pain of my left ear and the constant stiffening of my legs.
Trapped. Lost. Broken. Demolished. These are the four words I live by everyday. These are words used to describe my land, my area, my life. We live in a world where people judge people, it’s human nature. We live in a world where danger is evident and there is no way of backing out.
I’ve always knew I was different. From a young age I knew I could hear things, see things, that other little girls couldn’t. At first the visions were short and mostly pleasant. I’d see my friends and I, pelting each other with snowballs, and making misshapen snow angels. Sure enough, then next morning the entire hinterland would be dusted in a comforting layer of snow. For years my family put it down to sheer coincidence. But I knew better.
Re-shaping the monks memories proved difficult at the start, especially since my last meal was 10 days ago. I could feel my energy leaking from every pore in my body, drop by drop as I painted each mind with colours of farming and family life. Watching each man collect what little belongings they had and leave the confinements of the monastery poured both relief and regret in to my heart. They’d probably be dead by sundown.
It was the tiny splash of raindrops falling on my forehead that woke me. Looking up to the sky I guessed it was close to dawn. The soft red glow was rising in the East, spreading across the land but had not yet reached the forest where I lay, hidden among the foliage.
I lie in bed I can see the sky through the roof of the cottage. A red hue splashes across the sky. The old saying father taught me enters my head “red sky at night, shepherds delight, red sky at morning, shepherds warning” The sound of thousands of birds in flight filled my ears. My mother stirs. As I get up and get ready she remains in a deep slumber.
I bent down to pick up another stick that can be used for later. The woods get really cold at night so I needed plenty of branches to keep the fire going as long as possible. The forest was starting to run short of supplies for warmth. Probably because I’d been there so long. Despite that, it had provided a safe environment for me and I’d been lucky enough to not have been caught. Since the day I go there there hasn’t been a sound that wasn’t made by myself of the nature. Thank god.