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Chapter One


“You can’t shoot from down there, bring the bow up.”

“Oh?” Vox shot the centaur a coy look. “Just because you’re taller doesn’t give you the advantage all the time.” She held her stance and shot, her arrow zinging through the air to smack in the center of their target. Just then, something stirred in dark trees nearby. The pair heard slow, shallow breathing. Riven quietly nocked an arrow. This wasn't the first time their target practice had turned into something serious.

“No, Riven.” She pushed his hand aside, and gasped. What emerged from the hedges was most certainly not what they expected. The girl that stumbled out of the bushes had dark hair and wide eyes. A gaping slash ran down her right side and her face and arms were covered in scratches. She limped, leaning heavily on her right foot. Her voice was little more than a hoarse whisper.

"Attacked," the strange girl gasped out. "Take it. Protect it with your very life.”

"Protect what? What is—"

But she was cut off as the girl fainted just outside the doorway of the little shack. Vox examined the object in her hand.
No! It couldn’t be!
I’ve only heard of this in the stories!
But it was. Or so it seemed to be. The gold shone in the sun, setting off the rubies and yellow topaz, the strange orange stones. Fire danced in their depths. Fire, and something else she couldn’t find a name for.

Magic? she mused. Were the stories true?
Vox looked down once more, and she knew there could be no doubt about what she held.
In her hands was the legendary Phoenix Circlet.

She spun wildly.
“Riven!” she shouted. “Riven! Do you know what this is?”
He looked at her in that slow, steady way of his. Of course he did. He knew the legends.

But why has it come to us?
However well he knew the lore, he could think of no reason whatsoever it would fall into their hands, unless…

“Are we to return it?”
Vox looked at him, her forehead rumpling.
“To who? You know it would'nt have come to us unless...”
“It didn’t come to us at all. It came to you. Unless we are to return it.”
Vox pointed to the figure lying in the doorway.
“She said to protect it.”
“She doesn’t seem to be able to explain herself. Maybe it was meant for someone else.” Riven looked at her again. “We should go to Queen Amara.”
“Riven! What could she do? I don’t trust her.”
“We need counsel.”
“But she would take it. The Circlet. Take it for herself.”
He paused.
“Maybe it would be for the best.”
“For the best? Riven, the Circlet came to us!”
“Are you going somewhere?” A little figure emerged from the shadows. “Can I come too?”
And like a puppy too small for its ears, hers flopped, emphasizing her words. She was petite, with Nakiri’s long thick hair. However, this was not the time or place for her. Vox didn’t want Nakiri’s granddaughter to see the grisly sight outside.
“Naira… No, love. Not this time.”
She began to whimper.
“When will you come back? I won’t have anyone to play with.”
She hugged Naira before turning to Nakiri. The old woman was crying.
“Please,” said Vox slowly. “I promise I’ll come back.”
The old woman nodded. She watched tearfully as Riven gently laid his hand on her shoulder.
“We should go. Now. Whatever was hunting her,” he pointed to the girl in the doorway, “could easily find us.”

The old woman couldn't believe it had been just eight years ago that they had found her.

The centaur’s name, as Nakiri found out in the weeks following their somewhat awkward introduction, was Riven. He was from a tribe that lived somewhere in the Great Northern Forest. He would tell her no more than that, and try as she might, the old crone couldn’t glean any more information from him. His leg had healed nicely; however, even as he grew stronger, he refused to leave the woodland surrounding her cottage. He was always there, hovering within shouting distance. Not that the old half-breed was resentful of his company. No, she actually enjoyed her new friend. He was too young to have picked up his race’s peculiar prejudice, not yet an adolescent, and pleasant to converse with. Often, he would even graciously allow her to offer him food. Sometimes, though, Riven was conspicuously absent at mealtimes and in the early afternoons, and only the gods knew what he was doing. It was a crisp autumn evening that for the first time, Nakiri began to worry about her odd new friend. The edges of the sky were fringed and striped with bands of purple and pink and gold, and the beauty of it quite took the old woman’s breath away. But Riven had been late, two days late, and Nakiri began to consider leaving Naira in the village to go and look for him, when the familiar rustling of her bushes, now overgrown, sent her scurrying out of her home in a hurry.

It was Riven, but today, he wasn’t alone. Instead of a dead rabbit dangling from his quiver, a muddy, dirty, frightened little girl was with him, blinking rapidly as though dazed. She looked around for a few more minutes, taking in the small cottage with its thatched roof, the overgrown bushes she had just come from, the smell of pine that always served as the forest’s first greeting. After a few minutes of harsh scrutiny directed at the old woman, she managed to speak.

“Adorre ami matche?”

Nakiri looked her up and down. The poor child was obviously terrified out of her wits, and talking nonsense. Probably some village girl that had wandered too far from her hovel and spent a wretched night in the forest. Riven was handsome for a centaur, tall and dark and elegant, but very imposing, and the old woman was suprised the girl wasn't crying. With some difficulty, Nakiri knelt down. She took the small girl by her grubby hand and led her inside, offering her a piece of the bread she had baked that morning for her four-legged friend.

"Let's get her home."

Riven nodded his assent.

Of course! Why wouldn't you be?
Constructive criticism is luffed.

Any better?

(PS- Tankies for le comment! I'll go see your entry as soon as I have time to read the whole thing.)

i greatly appreciate it ^_^