
03-19-2010, 01:43 AM
Now, normally I never let anyone really read my work until I am finished..... but I have decided to get some opinions on this one as I start it.
I am not looking for spellchecking or anything like that, as this is a rough first draft, just want opinions on the actual content. Do you think it is worth continuing?
It will not post correctly, so sorry if it looks scrunched, when I post it takes out all the paragraph indents and spacing....
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Night was quickly approaching, the forest would be dark soon and she knew she had to find a place to take shelter soon. It had been three days since the attack on the village, she alone had survived. Now she was alone, lost in the great forest that stretched for many miles in any direction. Wounded and without food she was growing weaker with every passing hour, but she knew she had to keep moving. Keeping near the river she pushed on, looking for someplace that might shelter her from the storm coming from the north. The wind grew chill, clouds moved in even before the sun vanished behind the tree tops, then the first drops of rain started to fall. Seeing no place to take shelter she moved deeper into the trees, hoping to keep out of the worst of the rain. Before she had gone far the rain was beating down and she was soaked in moments. She huddled deeper into her cloak, knowing it would not be much help.
As she moved deeper into the forest she thought she heard voices, but the rain quickly drowned out any other sounds. She turned in the direction the noise had come from, and then felt herself falling. The last thing she remembered was a sharp pain as the wound in her arm reopened.
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As she slowly came to she realized she was no longer soaking wet, and the pain in her arm had lessened. There was light, warmth, but she could not make her eyes open just yet, then there were voices. They were speaking softly and she could not make out the words. Her first thought was that those who had attacked the village had found her, but if that was the case she would already be dead. Slowly, trying to avoid notice, she turned her head towards the voices.
“She is waking,” the voice was strong, yet seemed gentle somehow. “Can you hear me?” closer now, and a hand upon her brow.
“Her fever seems to have broken,” another gentle voice.
She managed to open her eyes, but her throat was so dry she could not make more than a small sound at the sight of her rescuers. She looked from one to the other in wonder. Identical faces stared back at her, showing concern in bright blue eyes. They had to be at the least brothers, although one had hair so pale it was nearly white, while the other’s was as black as a raven’s wing.
“Drink if you can,” said the pale haired brother, as the one with the dark hair helped her to sit up. They helped steady her as she drank, it was sweet and made her throat feel much better.
“W-who are you? Where am I?” she asked shakily. Seeing them more clearly now, “you’re Elves!” she gasped.
They smiled. “Yes, we are Elves. I am Selran,” said the pale haired one. “This is my brother, Aerlon.” The dark haired brother bowed his head to her at his introduction. “You are in our camp, not very far from where we found you.”
“You are half-Elvin, are you not?” asked Aerlon.
She hung her head and whispered, “y-yes. My father was an Elf, he died when I was still a baby. My name is Arima.”
Aerlon gently lifter her face until she looked at him again. “There is no need to be afraid, nor to be ashamed of your heritage. I know there are those who do not approve of mixed blood, but we are not among them. Arima, the name fits you well, Silver Star.” His smile was so gentle she could not help but return it.
“My brother is correct, fear not. Whatever you run from, you are safe with us.” Selran spoke up. “We have heard of attacks on some villages in this area, might it be that is where you are from?”
“Yes, I am from Tarantus, a few days west of the river. We were attacked three days ago,” Arima told them, her voice breaking, “I was the only survivor.” Tears came to her eyes as she remembered.
Aerlon gently put his arm around her, saying softly, “you are not alone now.” At the gentle touch and soft words Arima finally broke down and truly cried for the first time since she had run from her village. The brothers shared a quiet look, silently agreeing without words that they would let no more harm come to this young woman with the silver hair.
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