Uncounted legions of glimmering white stars hung on the icy air, bright, yet piercingly remote. Tarree's jagged breathing frosted in the chill, and she shuddered violently, pressing herself down against the hard earth. A furtive upward glance told her that he was still there, silhouetted against the night sky, searching for her. Relaxing, she let her head droop slightly, although her eyes never left the horseman. Long before, she had ceased to think rationally. In the fight for survival, she had forgotten logic and had survived on her instincts.
A distant clatter of hooves on rock told her the others were moving away, but the one in her sight lingered, as if knowing that she was out there, watching him. A faint call lilted on the air, and the horse turned under the hand of its rider and dissapeared from view. Tarree allowed herself a hoarse breath or two, then she pushed herself up from the tiny hollow and raced down the steep slope, dodging the charred stumps that pushed themselves up out of the dangerous quagmire until she reached a tangled thicket of several half-dead bushes. No sounds reached her from the ridge of hills behind her.
Peering from her hiding place, she inspected the surrounding regions. Behind the hills to the west, there was a range of mountains, rising to sheer and unmeasured heights at their peaks, sharp as needles. For the world was still young, and the mountains were not dull and weary. Those mountains were called the Thazak-dûn, the Dark Mountains, and the foothills were named the Dûnlands, and they were patrolled relentlessly by those that would kill her and all of her kin. She was in a depression, filled with uncharted marsh. Only Tarree knew the one permanent path through, and it was always difficult, never reliable. To the North, the land rose to a flat, desolate plateau, sandy and parched. To the South, the land dropped away in a series of steppes to the flat, rich-soiled plains of the Odőche, often flooded completely by the Ravíe, which flowed down from the sea. To the East lay her path, frought with ruin. The Thazak-kân, (mountains of shadow) barred her way, long and low, black and barran. On the flat peak of the highest mountain -- Mahkhar-kân -- was the dark stronghold of the Nameless Evil. Beyond them lay what remained of the Free Lands, The regions of Pelorre and Bellanc, and the kingdom of Erandor, and the elf-realm of Lindon.
As she shifted slightly, a gleam of starlight caught the jewl bound to her forehead, a white gleam. The stone told that she was an elf-maid, of the land beyond the mountains.
Tarree found it ironic that she had escaped from the Dark Mountains to be hemmed in by the Mountains of Shadow.
Somehow, she must escape. Somehow, she must reach her fellows and deliver her message.
~~~~~
I must go for the night, will post more information and my bio tomorrow. If you're interested, post your bio.
A distant clatter of hooves on rock told her the others were moving away, but the one in her sight lingered, as if knowing that she was out there, watching him. A faint call lilted on the air, and the horse turned under the hand of its rider and dissapeared from view. Tarree allowed herself a hoarse breath or two, then she pushed herself up from the tiny hollow and raced down the steep slope, dodging the charred stumps that pushed themselves up out of the dangerous quagmire until she reached a tangled thicket of several half-dead bushes. No sounds reached her from the ridge of hills behind her.
Peering from her hiding place, she inspected the surrounding regions. Behind the hills to the west, there was a range of mountains, rising to sheer and unmeasured heights at their peaks, sharp as needles. For the world was still young, and the mountains were not dull and weary. Those mountains were called the Thazak-dûn, the Dark Mountains, and the foothills were named the Dûnlands, and they were patrolled relentlessly by those that would kill her and all of her kin. She was in a depression, filled with uncharted marsh. Only Tarree knew the one permanent path through, and it was always difficult, never reliable. To the North, the land rose to a flat, desolate plateau, sandy and parched. To the South, the land dropped away in a series of steppes to the flat, rich-soiled plains of the Odőche, often flooded completely by the Ravíe, which flowed down from the sea. To the East lay her path, frought with ruin. The Thazak-kân, (mountains of shadow) barred her way, long and low, black and barran. On the flat peak of the highest mountain -- Mahkhar-kân -- was the dark stronghold of the Nameless Evil. Beyond them lay what remained of the Free Lands, The regions of Pelorre and Bellanc, and the kingdom of Erandor, and the elf-realm of Lindon.
As she shifted slightly, a gleam of starlight caught the jewl bound to her forehead, a white gleam. The stone told that she was an elf-maid, of the land beyond the mountains.
Tarree found it ironic that she had escaped from the Dark Mountains to be hemmed in by the Mountains of Shadow.
Somehow, she must escape. Somehow, she must reach her fellows and deliver her message.
~~~~~
I must go for the night, will post more information and my bio tomorrow. If you're interested, post your bio.
