NaNo 1
I had a little NaNoFail this week. I haven't written anything for a week due to life things, so I sat down this morning and wrapped out ~3000 words. Which means as of today I am only 4000 behind. I can totally come back from that right? Right. Anyway here is the unedited (and unreadover for that matter) version of my "week 1" of NaNo.
Apologies if it's painful - I don't even know.
High Marshal Alana Destrin's cool, gray eyes took in the landscape - they were coming out of the last of the stunted trees and scrub brush, into rolling hills of long golden grasses. The heat shimmered on the horizon. Her riding cloak had been demoted to a blanket days ago and as she wiped the sweat from the back of her neck she contemplated dispensing with her overshirt as well. She was unconcerned by the social mores of the question, especially this far from any proper civilization, and over this country she could spot any other travelers and redress if need be without much of a problem - not that there would be any others this far out of trade season. And she didn't think her companion would mind, one of the perks of traveling with a eunuch. Palton Jesk was just remounting his horse after answering nature's call in the dwindling cover. His young roan tossed its head and sidestepped a few paces under Palton's not inconsiderable weight. He reigned it in and with soothing words and sharp heels to the flanks he rode up to join Alana as she removed her short sleeved leather overshirt, to reveal a beige cloth jerkin.
Jesk eyed Alana's bare arms, the sun tanned wrists fading up to a much lighter shoulder. His stomach roiled in an uncomfortable way, but he took a silent breath and said, “You're gonna burn if you're not careful, Destrin”
“I'll have to get used to it sometime,” Alana responded. “And I hear the women of the south tend to be less modest in their dress anyhow. I can certainly see why.” She took a pull from her canteen, and offered it to Palton. He drank deeply of it then looked to the horizon.
“Gonna need more water soon too. This is damned inhospitable country.” Jesk shielded his eyes from the late afternoon sun and stared down the the sparse cobblestone path, punctuated by enterprising tufts of grass. “See any likely place for a camp?”
Destrin shrugged, letting her light brown hair out of its ponytail and shaking her head. “There should be some sort of shrine in another hour or two. Trader back in Benturas said that there was one a day's ride outside of Lastridge, we should be coming up on it soon.” She deftly twisted her hair up into a high bun and wound a leather thong back around it. Within seconds the the two locks of hair that always refused to be bound had worked their way free again to hang down framing the sides of her face.
“I can't wait to spend a day out of the saddle. I hope Lastridge isn't as backward as they say - I could use a hot bath and a stiff drink.”
“We'll find out soon enough. There hasn't been a proper Imperial presence there for four or five years, but it's a pretty major trade center. If the locals have enough sense to capitalize on that at all, it shouldn't be too primitive. Ready?”
Jesk grunted a response and the two started off down the old cobblestone road once again. They traveled in silence - any topic either was willing to discuss had been chewed over pretty thoroughly on their ride down from Highcourt. Each was content at this point to mull their own thoughts.
Alana wondered once again why Jesk had chosen to come. She'd had no choice - Exarch Marshal Croidon had effectively exiled her from the city, but Palton had asked to be assigned to her even as she was stationed at the farthest, most desolate reach of the Empire. She'd worked with the husky eunuch on and off over the past few years when their assignments had overlapped. Alana found him competent if a bit unorthodox - a good man to have with you in a pinch. They shared a similar background, both orphans, both granted apprenticeship to the Marshalry on merit. She tried not to dwell on the fact that he was a convicted rapist - he was young, and the alleged victim was of a social class such that there was no true trial. She may very well have been consenting. In any case, he was no more danger along those lines, and he'd been a perfect gentleman so long as she'd known him, especially on this trip. Castration and enforced military service could work a profound change in a man. The fact that he'd had a desire to join the Marshals and that he was accepted should be sign enough of his rehabilitation she supposed, though she suspected that it was the reason that he'd never been promoted to a full Marshal-at-law. And despite all that, she was grateful of his company and that there would be a familiar face in Lastridge. His sentence was simply one of those things that was very difficult to put out of mind.
The hills had smoothed into heath and the sun fell low and hot against the riders, when Alana first made out the dark tree wavering on the horizon. At first she thought that her eyes were playing tricks on her but as they grew closer it became a apparent - there was a single large broadleaf tree on a plain where the only other vegetation was grass. Alana and Palton exchanged quizzical looks, but the road seemed to be running directly toward it so they continued on.
The tree was even larger than it had seemed from a distance - it rivaled the tallest oak Alana had ever seen, but was broader, with wide spade-shaped leaves. Built against the trunk was a small lean-to with mortared stone walls and handsomely cut timber roof. There was a well worn footpath running from the road to the tree.
Jesk dismounted and walked his horse toward the tree, nodding appreciatively, “Well. This sure beats sleeping under the stars.”
Alana followed him, her eyes narrowed. She did not care for things that didn't make sense to her. There was something about the place that set her on edge. There was a wooden sign leaning against the shelter, that read 'Welcome, friend. Rest in the grace of Eloura.' and had further script beneath it in a language that Alana did not recognize.
Palton had paid no heed to the sign, and had instead leaned in the open doorway, calling back to Alana, “It'd hold four, I'd say. And there's a little fire ring in the back. And a chimney, too. This place is almost as nice as my room in Highcourt was.”
“Any idea who Eloura is?” Alana asked, circling around the perimeter of the tree. There was a wooden piling stuck in the ground with a cross piece atop it, suitable to tie of the horses leads. She kicked it to make sure it wouldn't pull out if the horses spooked but it seemed firm.
“No idea. The townsfolk in Benturas had referred to this as a shrine - maybe she's a local goddess of some kind. Maybe they worship the tree itself. Who knows with these types.” Palton was circling around the tree the other direction, “I think there's a well back here!”
Destrin wrinkled her nose at the mention of a goddess. Any such beliefs were publicly denounced in the capital, and there was to be no such worship by Imperial edict. But the farther one moved away from the center of the Empire, the more numerous these superstitions became. Alana had noticed several small altars and wardings in the last few towns they had passed but nothing quite on this scale. She was thankful for the refuge but the fact that it was constructed by some misguided Imperial citizen in exoneration of a false deity made her a little sad. These people were citizens too, and they were so far from the light of Highcourt. While it may not have been her choice to come here, she certainly would do what she could to bring the culture and wisdom of the Empire with her. She tied off her horse, and began to gather fallen sticks from the great tree, so they could have a small fire.
In a well established routine, Palton took care of the horses while Alana set up camp. She could hear him talking softly to the horses, telling them that the journey was almost over, describing the piles of hay and oats that waited for them at the end of the next day's ride. She knew that he called the roan he rode Maple and her speckled mare was Starlight, though he never used those names when he thought she was listening.
She contemplated her arrival in Lastridge. The town was the farthest southern outpost of the Empire - and the expansion had only stopped there because no general could devise a plan to carry a military force across the barren wastes of desert that lie between Lastridge and the glittering jewel of Ondirien. Trade caravans make the journey in the spring, when narrow wadis trace across life lines across the sands, and brave and experienced souls can make the trek in autumn when the days and nights are merely uncomfortable, rather than one or the other being a lethal extreme. Additionally there were the Scincades, barbarous reptilians who thrive in the desert, who often harry the small merchant bands but without fail attack any large convoy through the desert. Altogether the south was too much trouble for not enough gain, and the winds of war blew west across the Stormbreak Mountains, into the Velwood and north to butt against Rimefolk. In the last hundred years, the Empire had begun to contract as the Vel Coalition, an alliance of western peoples, destroyed the passes through the Stormbreaks and pinned the Imperial troops against the now impenetrable cliffs. The Rimefolk have become more savage and brutish, every winter they surge down in frenzied raids against peaceful villages, slaughtering all but the few poor souls taken as slaves and disappearing again into the fog.
Lastridge, Benturas, Calaphon and all the other southern cities have been either granted a thin trickle of Imperial support or left entirely to their own devices, so long as they pay in their tribute to the throne. They were part of the Empire only in name, the bastard children of a distant father. And Alana had been sent as a Marshal to this throne forsaken outpost. She had never been Chief Marshal of a town before, she'd always worked within the hierarchy of the Highcourt Marshalry. The irony that Croidon had effected her exile by promoting her to High Marshal and granting her the 'honor' of an independent post was not lost on her. He was a slippery political manipulator, and Destrin considered herself lucky that she'd left Highcourt with her life and badge intact after crossing him the way she did.
As remote as Lastridge was she could be fairly certain that the residents didn't even know she was on the way, so she had her work cut out for her establishing her authority before she could even begin to do her job. She would just have to take stock of the situation when she got there and think on her feet.
Alana had laid in some extra provisions in case they'd been detained but since it looked as though their journey was near it's end, she laid out the best meal she could given their supplies - a thin stew and trail bread. She and Palton ate quietly sitting against the tree, watching the sun set and thinking over the possibilities the next day afforded.
As had been the pattern for the entire journey, Palton took the first watch, letting Alana sleep. Palton had insisted on having a watch, even when they stayed in towns. Alana assumed it must be a holdover from his military days. Probably a good practice in any case, though she hoped he'd drop it once they arrived in Lastridge.
The night cooled off fast, but the stone walls held the heat of the cooking fire, and Alana slipped off to sleep swiftly. After what felt like mere moments, she felt a familiar pressure on her shoulder and opened her eyes to a tired Palton. She nodded and blinked herself awake. It was cool enough outside the shelter that she wrapped herself in her riding cloak. The moon was nearing full and there were just enough wispy clouds in the sky to paint the landscape in an ethereal collage of silvers and grays. She lit a twig on one of the softly glowing embers of the fire and used it to light her pipe. She almost never smoked during the day, but she found it very useful in waking up and would occasionally enjoy a bowl when drinking. She walked a circumference around the tree to allow her eyes to adjust to the light, and then settled with her back to the trunk, faced southwest towards Lastridge, the nearest settlement. She laid her sword next her in the grass, ready to hand and settled in to wait for the dawn.
Alana tried not to admit to herself that she'd been enjoying the journey and felt sad that it was nearing it's end. She had lived her entire life in Highcourt, and had rarely left it save for training exercises and the like. She had assumed that her place was in the city, but she found the solitude of the countryside very pleasant after the city. She watched a silver owl dart moonbeam-swift across the field and smiled. Not that she didn't miss the city. She did and she was sure she would miss it more in time, but for the moment at least, she would content herself with enjoying the peaceful evening.
Alana was contemplating loading another bowl, when she heard a slight noise behind her on the other side of the tree. It was no louder than a whisper - perhaps a small branch or nut had fallen to the ground, but Alana refused to assume it was something so benign. Her hands unsheathed her blade in one fluid motion, and she rocked to her feet quietly, pausing and listening and hearing nothing. She circled to the front of the lean-to checking to make sure that Jesk was alright. He was sound asleep. Alana decided not to bother him - it was likely nothing. Palton was a light sleeper anyhow, he'd surely awaken if there was anything. After listening a moment more, Alana continued around the tree to where she'd first heard the noise. All she could see was silver grasses obscured by black shifting patches of shadow. Her ears thumped with her heartbeat and she chided herself for getting so worked up over nothing.
Then she heard a rustle directly in front of her somewhere. Her blade snapped in front of her defensively, and she scanned the area once more, her nerves on edge. She thought she made out a shape then, huddled in the grass. She approached cautiously, trying to decipher what she was looking at. The shape moved slightly and Alana suddenly found herself looking into a pair of eyes. Her muscles twitched to strike out but she realized that the thing was too small to be an assailant. A child rose from the grass, her tangled blonde hair and lopsided smile illuminated in the soft moonlight.
There was a long moment where the two regarded one another silently, the women with the blade and the small girl, before the child gave a small wave and said, “Hello.”
Alana exhaled a curse beneath her breath. This was too strange for her. “What are you doing out here?” She lowered her sword so it was not pointed directly at the girl, but did not let it drop to her side entirely.
“I live near here. What are you doing here?” The girl still smiled seemingly unconcerned by the weapon. She folded her hands in front of her as though she wanted to appear on her best behavior. She was wearing a loose white fraying dress and her feet were bare. Alana shivered sympathetically but the girl did not seem chilled at all.
“I'm just passing through. Do you want me to take you to your home?” Alana's mind raced, she couldn't remember seeing any farms or buildings of any kind in the area. Where had this little girl come from?
“Passing through to where? Lastridge?” The little girl glanced in the direction of the city and her smile faded for a moment. “Bad time to be in Lastridge.” She nodded with a immense gravity that only a small child can levy.
“Yes, I'm going to Lastridge. Is that where you're from?” Alana was not very good with children. She hadn't been very good with children even when she was one. Maybe she should wake Jesk. He might fare a little better.
“Are you going to help the people of Lastridge?” The clouds shifted so that the moon shone full on the girl, and she veritably glowed silver. She took a small step towards the Marshal.
Alana was at a loss “Yes, I am going to help Lastridge. I can help you too. Where do you live, child?”
“I'm glad someone is going to help them. They're in trouble and they don't even know it. There are storms and blood coming. Black blood and death. And they're the gateway. If Lastridge is lost then the tide comes in, a tide of skulls and teeth and claws.” The girl's eyes widened and she took another step toward Alana. “You need to help them, them and the ragman. You need to stop it, turn back the tide. You need to because there isn't anyone else. No one else.”
The girl reached out her hand to Alana but she involuntarily took a step back. She must be hearing things or dreaming or...something. The girl's eyes pleaded with her and she reached out her tiny hand farther. Alana stepped back and again a bumped into the tree, startling her. The girl whispered quietly, “Please...?” and reached out and touched Alana's knee. The moonlight glowed painfully bright for a second and then faded out to gray and then to nothing.
**edit** cleaned up the most glaring of errors. Rough but not awful for being written straight through. More next week. (hopefully much more)
Apologies if it's painful - I don't even know.
High Marshal Alana Destrin's cool, gray eyes took in the landscape - they were coming out of the last of the stunted trees and scrub brush, into rolling hills of long golden grasses. The heat shimmered on the horizon. Her riding cloak had been demoted to a blanket days ago and as she wiped the sweat from the back of her neck she contemplated dispensing with her overshirt as well. She was unconcerned by the social mores of the question, especially this far from any proper civilization, and over this country she could spot any other travelers and redress if need be without much of a problem - not that there would be any others this far out of trade season. And she didn't think her companion would mind, one of the perks of traveling with a eunuch. Palton Jesk was just remounting his horse after answering nature's call in the dwindling cover. His young roan tossed its head and sidestepped a few paces under Palton's not inconsiderable weight. He reigned it in and with soothing words and sharp heels to the flanks he rode up to join Alana as she removed her short sleeved leather overshirt, to reveal a beige cloth jerkin.
Jesk eyed Alana's bare arms, the sun tanned wrists fading up to a much lighter shoulder. His stomach roiled in an uncomfortable way, but he took a silent breath and said, “You're gonna burn if you're not careful, Destrin”
“I'll have to get used to it sometime,” Alana responded. “And I hear the women of the south tend to be less modest in their dress anyhow. I can certainly see why.” She took a pull from her canteen, and offered it to Palton. He drank deeply of it then looked to the horizon.
“Gonna need more water soon too. This is damned inhospitable country.” Jesk shielded his eyes from the late afternoon sun and stared down the the sparse cobblestone path, punctuated by enterprising tufts of grass. “See any likely place for a camp?”
Destrin shrugged, letting her light brown hair out of its ponytail and shaking her head. “There should be some sort of shrine in another hour or two. Trader back in Benturas said that there was one a day's ride outside of Lastridge, we should be coming up on it soon.” She deftly twisted her hair up into a high bun and wound a leather thong back around it. Within seconds the the two locks of hair that always refused to be bound had worked their way free again to hang down framing the sides of her face.
“I can't wait to spend a day out of the saddle. I hope Lastridge isn't as backward as they say - I could use a hot bath and a stiff drink.”
“We'll find out soon enough. There hasn't been a proper Imperial presence there for four or five years, but it's a pretty major trade center. If the locals have enough sense to capitalize on that at all, it shouldn't be too primitive. Ready?”
Jesk grunted a response and the two started off down the old cobblestone road once again. They traveled in silence - any topic either was willing to discuss had been chewed over pretty thoroughly on their ride down from Highcourt. Each was content at this point to mull their own thoughts.
Alana wondered once again why Jesk had chosen to come. She'd had no choice - Exarch Marshal Croidon had effectively exiled her from the city, but Palton had asked to be assigned to her even as she was stationed at the farthest, most desolate reach of the Empire. She'd worked with the husky eunuch on and off over the past few years when their assignments had overlapped. Alana found him competent if a bit unorthodox - a good man to have with you in a pinch. They shared a similar background, both orphans, both granted apprenticeship to the Marshalry on merit. She tried not to dwell on the fact that he was a convicted rapist - he was young, and the alleged victim was of a social class such that there was no true trial. She may very well have been consenting. In any case, he was no more danger along those lines, and he'd been a perfect gentleman so long as she'd known him, especially on this trip. Castration and enforced military service could work a profound change in a man. The fact that he'd had a desire to join the Marshals and that he was accepted should be sign enough of his rehabilitation she supposed, though she suspected that it was the reason that he'd never been promoted to a full Marshal-at-law. And despite all that, she was grateful of his company and that there would be a familiar face in Lastridge. His sentence was simply one of those things that was very difficult to put out of mind.
The hills had smoothed into heath and the sun fell low and hot against the riders, when Alana first made out the dark tree wavering on the horizon. At first she thought that her eyes were playing tricks on her but as they grew closer it became a apparent - there was a single large broadleaf tree on a plain where the only other vegetation was grass. Alana and Palton exchanged quizzical looks, but the road seemed to be running directly toward it so they continued on.
The tree was even larger than it had seemed from a distance - it rivaled the tallest oak Alana had ever seen, but was broader, with wide spade-shaped leaves. Built against the trunk was a small lean-to with mortared stone walls and handsomely cut timber roof. There was a well worn footpath running from the road to the tree.
Jesk dismounted and walked his horse toward the tree, nodding appreciatively, “Well. This sure beats sleeping under the stars.”
Alana followed him, her eyes narrowed. She did not care for things that didn't make sense to her. There was something about the place that set her on edge. There was a wooden sign leaning against the shelter, that read 'Welcome, friend. Rest in the grace of Eloura.' and had further script beneath it in a language that Alana did not recognize.
Palton had paid no heed to the sign, and had instead leaned in the open doorway, calling back to Alana, “It'd hold four, I'd say. And there's a little fire ring in the back. And a chimney, too. This place is almost as nice as my room in Highcourt was.”
“Any idea who Eloura is?” Alana asked, circling around the perimeter of the tree. There was a wooden piling stuck in the ground with a cross piece atop it, suitable to tie of the horses leads. She kicked it to make sure it wouldn't pull out if the horses spooked but it seemed firm.
“No idea. The townsfolk in Benturas had referred to this as a shrine - maybe she's a local goddess of some kind. Maybe they worship the tree itself. Who knows with these types.” Palton was circling around the tree the other direction, “I think there's a well back here!”
Destrin wrinkled her nose at the mention of a goddess. Any such beliefs were publicly denounced in the capital, and there was to be no such worship by Imperial edict. But the farther one moved away from the center of the Empire, the more numerous these superstitions became. Alana had noticed several small altars and wardings in the last few towns they had passed but nothing quite on this scale. She was thankful for the refuge but the fact that it was constructed by some misguided Imperial citizen in exoneration of a false deity made her a little sad. These people were citizens too, and they were so far from the light of Highcourt. While it may not have been her choice to come here, she certainly would do what she could to bring the culture and wisdom of the Empire with her. She tied off her horse, and began to gather fallen sticks from the great tree, so they could have a small fire.
In a well established routine, Palton took care of the horses while Alana set up camp. She could hear him talking softly to the horses, telling them that the journey was almost over, describing the piles of hay and oats that waited for them at the end of the next day's ride. She knew that he called the roan he rode Maple and her speckled mare was Starlight, though he never used those names when he thought she was listening.
She contemplated her arrival in Lastridge. The town was the farthest southern outpost of the Empire - and the expansion had only stopped there because no general could devise a plan to carry a military force across the barren wastes of desert that lie between Lastridge and the glittering jewel of Ondirien. Trade caravans make the journey in the spring, when narrow wadis trace across life lines across the sands, and brave and experienced souls can make the trek in autumn when the days and nights are merely uncomfortable, rather than one or the other being a lethal extreme. Additionally there were the Scincades, barbarous reptilians who thrive in the desert, who often harry the small merchant bands but without fail attack any large convoy through the desert. Altogether the south was too much trouble for not enough gain, and the winds of war blew west across the Stormbreak Mountains, into the Velwood and north to butt against Rimefolk. In the last hundred years, the Empire had begun to contract as the Vel Coalition, an alliance of western peoples, destroyed the passes through the Stormbreaks and pinned the Imperial troops against the now impenetrable cliffs. The Rimefolk have become more savage and brutish, every winter they surge down in frenzied raids against peaceful villages, slaughtering all but the few poor souls taken as slaves and disappearing again into the fog.
Lastridge, Benturas, Calaphon and all the other southern cities have been either granted a thin trickle of Imperial support or left entirely to their own devices, so long as they pay in their tribute to the throne. They were part of the Empire only in name, the bastard children of a distant father. And Alana had been sent as a Marshal to this throne forsaken outpost. She had never been Chief Marshal of a town before, she'd always worked within the hierarchy of the Highcourt Marshalry. The irony that Croidon had effected her exile by promoting her to High Marshal and granting her the 'honor' of an independent post was not lost on her. He was a slippery political manipulator, and Destrin considered herself lucky that she'd left Highcourt with her life and badge intact after crossing him the way she did.
As remote as Lastridge was she could be fairly certain that the residents didn't even know she was on the way, so she had her work cut out for her establishing her authority before she could even begin to do her job. She would just have to take stock of the situation when she got there and think on her feet.
Alana had laid in some extra provisions in case they'd been detained but since it looked as though their journey was near it's end, she laid out the best meal she could given their supplies - a thin stew and trail bread. She and Palton ate quietly sitting against the tree, watching the sun set and thinking over the possibilities the next day afforded.
As had been the pattern for the entire journey, Palton took the first watch, letting Alana sleep. Palton had insisted on having a watch, even when they stayed in towns. Alana assumed it must be a holdover from his military days. Probably a good practice in any case, though she hoped he'd drop it once they arrived in Lastridge.
The night cooled off fast, but the stone walls held the heat of the cooking fire, and Alana slipped off to sleep swiftly. After what felt like mere moments, she felt a familiar pressure on her shoulder and opened her eyes to a tired Palton. She nodded and blinked herself awake. It was cool enough outside the shelter that she wrapped herself in her riding cloak. The moon was nearing full and there were just enough wispy clouds in the sky to paint the landscape in an ethereal collage of silvers and grays. She lit a twig on one of the softly glowing embers of the fire and used it to light her pipe. She almost never smoked during the day, but she found it very useful in waking up and would occasionally enjoy a bowl when drinking. She walked a circumference around the tree to allow her eyes to adjust to the light, and then settled with her back to the trunk, faced southwest towards Lastridge, the nearest settlement. She laid her sword next her in the grass, ready to hand and settled in to wait for the dawn.
Alana tried not to admit to herself that she'd been enjoying the journey and felt sad that it was nearing it's end. She had lived her entire life in Highcourt, and had rarely left it save for training exercises and the like. She had assumed that her place was in the city, but she found the solitude of the countryside very pleasant after the city. She watched a silver owl dart moonbeam-swift across the field and smiled. Not that she didn't miss the city. She did and she was sure she would miss it more in time, but for the moment at least, she would content herself with enjoying the peaceful evening.
Alana was contemplating loading another bowl, when she heard a slight noise behind her on the other side of the tree. It was no louder than a whisper - perhaps a small branch or nut had fallen to the ground, but Alana refused to assume it was something so benign. Her hands unsheathed her blade in one fluid motion, and she rocked to her feet quietly, pausing and listening and hearing nothing. She circled to the front of the lean-to checking to make sure that Jesk was alright. He was sound asleep. Alana decided not to bother him - it was likely nothing. Palton was a light sleeper anyhow, he'd surely awaken if there was anything. After listening a moment more, Alana continued around the tree to where she'd first heard the noise. All she could see was silver grasses obscured by black shifting patches of shadow. Her ears thumped with her heartbeat and she chided herself for getting so worked up over nothing.
Then she heard a rustle directly in front of her somewhere. Her blade snapped in front of her defensively, and she scanned the area once more, her nerves on edge. She thought she made out a shape then, huddled in the grass. She approached cautiously, trying to decipher what she was looking at. The shape moved slightly and Alana suddenly found herself looking into a pair of eyes. Her muscles twitched to strike out but she realized that the thing was too small to be an assailant. A child rose from the grass, her tangled blonde hair and lopsided smile illuminated in the soft moonlight.
There was a long moment where the two regarded one another silently, the women with the blade and the small girl, before the child gave a small wave and said, “Hello.”
Alana exhaled a curse beneath her breath. This was too strange for her. “What are you doing out here?” She lowered her sword so it was not pointed directly at the girl, but did not let it drop to her side entirely.
“I live near here. What are you doing here?” The girl still smiled seemingly unconcerned by the weapon. She folded her hands in front of her as though she wanted to appear on her best behavior. She was wearing a loose white fraying dress and her feet were bare. Alana shivered sympathetically but the girl did not seem chilled at all.
“I'm just passing through. Do you want me to take you to your home?” Alana's mind raced, she couldn't remember seeing any farms or buildings of any kind in the area. Where had this little girl come from?
“Passing through to where? Lastridge?” The little girl glanced in the direction of the city and her smile faded for a moment. “Bad time to be in Lastridge.” She nodded with a immense gravity that only a small child can levy.
“Yes, I'm going to Lastridge. Is that where you're from?” Alana was not very good with children. She hadn't been very good with children even when she was one. Maybe she should wake Jesk. He might fare a little better.
“Are you going to help the people of Lastridge?” The clouds shifted so that the moon shone full on the girl, and she veritably glowed silver. She took a small step towards the Marshal.
Alana was at a loss “Yes, I am going to help Lastridge. I can help you too. Where do you live, child?”
“I'm glad someone is going to help them. They're in trouble and they don't even know it. There are storms and blood coming. Black blood and death. And they're the gateway. If Lastridge is lost then the tide comes in, a tide of skulls and teeth and claws.” The girl's eyes widened and she took another step toward Alana. “You need to help them, them and the ragman. You need to stop it, turn back the tide. You need to because there isn't anyone else. No one else.”
The girl reached out her hand to Alana but she involuntarily took a step back. She must be hearing things or dreaming or...something. The girl's eyes pleaded with her and she reached out her tiny hand farther. Alana stepped back and again a bumped into the tree, startling her. The girl whispered quietly, “Please...?” and reached out and touched Alana's knee. The moonlight glowed painfully bright for a second and then faded out to gray and then to nothing.
**edit** cleaned up the most glaring of errors. Rough but not awful for being written straight through. More next week. (hopefully much more)