Friday, November 4, 2011

Prologue for my NaNoWriMo Novel

It's different when the blood is not your own. It's so much worse when it's your cousins, or your dearest friends. But first, before either of them were hurt, it was me. It always started with me, whether near home or far away, with friends or alone. The first time was a stray arrow in my thigh. I fired back, killing the human who shot it. It was instinct alone, the way I had been trained during the seven years since I was five and started training. I was twelve then. At fourteen, it was my best friend's sword, wielded by his younger brother. My elf ears heard it coming, but I wasn't quick enough, and had I been any slower to grab the blade, he would have killed me, with a slice through the stomach. It's hard for me to forgive someone, and with my quick temper, I nearly returned the blow. Feredir saved us both, but I couldn't stop my blade in time when he leapt in to save his brother, and I gave him the deep scar on his cheek. it will never heal. I was used to my own blood, but this was different. I may never forgive myself. But we are still best friends, and I must go to the capital. He has been there for four months, and has no traveling companion to return with. I go with two of the very few humans I trust, Maegan and Mick-hael. We meet at our favorite creek tomorrow at the third hour.

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