Chapter 1 Exile
Rowena's boots crunched over the frost-bitten grass as she neared the supply shed.
She focused on the sound of her own footsteps, trying to muffle the unease rising in her chest.
Something is off.
Someone is watching.
The hairs on her neck prickled. Out of the corner of her eye, a shadow darted behind a tree.
Rowena's hand flew to her sword, heart thumping—
Nothing there.
"Rowena!" Taskmaster Fenrick's voice cut through the quiet
He was probably eager to get back to his warm bed. Keeping him waiting was never wise.
She paused, casting one last look at the trees before swallowing her fear.
Focus now. Breathe.
At the rustic supply shed, Fenrick was already inside, gathering rations and muttering about punctuality. His unpleasant, haughty demeanor never changed during all his time in the wilds.
Rowena barely heard him.
Her mind was elsewhere, lost in the remnants of last night's nightmare.
Images of her beloved home in ruins,
battles and bloodshed,
her father's face, cold and lifeless.
"Rowena." Fenrick's voice snapped her back to reality.
Rowena jolted, gasping softly. Then forced herself to focus. "What?"
Fenrick stood at the table, supplies neatly sorted into piles. "The boy's going with you today. It's time he learned to pull his weight. See to it he stays out of trouble." He demanded.
"Oh, of course." Rowena nodded, taking note of the third set of supplies on the table.
"But, there are three rations," she pointed out.
"Yes, the third one is for Galdir."
Rowena's jaw tightened at the name. She had to stop her lip from curling in distaste.
At least he knew how to use a bow... if it came to it.
Suddenly, footsteps crunched on the gravel outside—quick and uneven.
A child's voice whined through the morning air, drawing Fenrick's glare toward the road.
Fenrick's mild demeanor shifted. His annoyance was obvious as he watched the approaching pair.
Galdir appeared first
A tall, half-elven man with a curtain of red hair glided through the doorway,
trailed by a sullen dragonkind child.
As Galdir passed, his gaze slid past Rowena, never meeting her eyes.
She'd come to expect his deliberate avoidance.
"Sorry to keep you waiting, Taskmaster. Our hero here forgot the mission. Had to wake him, but he's eager enough now." Galdir's tone was smooth, too smooth.
He nodded to the dragonkind boy.
The dragonkind child, at just four years old, stood as tall as Fenrick,
broad-shouldered and muscled like a grown man.
Copper scales shimmered across his body, catching morning light. Small horns curled above his slitted, golden eyes.
He hunched in the doorway, rubbing sleep from his eyes with oversized hands.
"I didn't forget," he whined, voice high and rough. "No one said it would be this early."
Once everyone was ready, Fenrick thrust lunch sacks into their hands. "Be back before suppertime," he warned. "I'm not eating cold because you dawdle."
Rowena lingered until Galdir and the boy slipped out of earshot. Then she moved closer to Fenrick, voice barely above a whisper:
"Any news? Any word from my father, or envoys?"
Fenrick's eyes softened. He shook his head, sympathy written in the lines of his face.
Rowena had expected as much, but it still stung. She pressed her lips together, blinking away the tears behind her eyes.
Would she ever hear from her father again?
The thought terrified her.
She caught up to the others at the village well. Galdir stared off toward the trees with the same wary look Rowena had worn moments before.
"What is it, Galdir?" she asked, masking her anxiety.
"The forest's too quiet," he said. "Something's off."
The boy spun, worry creasing his scaled face. "What do you mean?"
"Might be nothing," he shrugged, but his eyes said otherwise.
As they started along the trail, Galdir shot Rowena a look that sent a chill down her spine.
The look in his eyes told her everything she needed to know.
Be ready for anything, she told herself.