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Jorieke ´JoSav´ Savelkouls / Text 9 of 12 / Stillness Chapter One
"Stillness Chapter One" by Jorieke ´JoSav´ Savelkouls
SciFi/Fantasy text 9 out of 12 by Jorieke ´JoSav´ Savelkouls. ←Previous - Next→
| Where She Came From... |
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Chapter One –Where She Came From–
It was still the same. The same dreams haunting her. But then, were they really dreams? They seemed to hold so much more fear and anger. Were these memories of a forgotten life? Were these actual memories?
Whispering of raindrops that tenderly trickled down evergreen and autumn coloured leaves spread the scent of meadow, earth and damp, the scent of the meeting between open field and forest. They spread the scent of danger.
For she remembered. She remembered more than she wanted to admit.
The plateaus and valleys at the edge of mountain range were mostly covered in abundant grass supplemented with few juniper, spruce and fir, set firmly by the edge of the river and her tributaries, and in the slope of the opulent dales.
Most of the lower lands were swathed in grass, incremented by deciduous trees like birch and willow, and various allotted evergreen foliage. In the higher region of northern mounds and crests grew arctic plants that had thrived there for millennia, growing sparser by the year, surrendered to spruce-fir and pine.
The course of the river followed a meander path across cerulean fields in a concealed valley which late summer grass turned into a rich and tall cover of gold, indicating transfer in seasons.
Slowly, a gentle gathering of grey and even darker clouds collected, embracing one another into a thick cover, indicating the dry season was finally over.
She crouched, concealed within a shadow of foliage, and she overlooked the valley spreading out before her like a carpet of infinite perfection, abundant in food, rich in all nutrition she had ever known.
Suddenly, overtaking the majority of her conscience, faint memories washed over her like a feral ocean of wilderness. Memories of a time she did not understand, of an origin she could not grasp, as if where she was now was not where she belonged.
Reminisces skimmed along the edges of her mind, faint memories, faded in time. She remembered, she remembered as if she had been there herself.
The sound reverberated inside of her, the sound of slaughter, the sound of approaching, blustering hooves, the sound of man.
Not a moment did she understand what this meant, why she did not run like she would have wanted to. Truth was she did not understand this memory was of a person who had died long ago, had died there that night, a person who had died like everyone else that night. It had been the beginning of the Sig'ri besiege. The start of desolation and despair amongst man of a stature never witnessed before, of gravity none could ever have predicted. For it was the night the Sig'ri had decided the Earth Mother was not their God, it was the night the slaughtering of men had begun.
She screamed.
United in a dance she wasn't able to acknowledge, the horses rushed forward, white foam covering their exhausted bodies, their terrifying cries shrill, akin to thunder, as they reared and fearlessly struck down their bloodstained hooves onto man, woman and child, slashing down onto the semi-frost ground. Such frightening scenario was merely subdued by the layer of blood-red slush and mire that covered the steppe already.
A massacre, these barbarians left nothing but a fest for the famished scavengers that already scanned the frozen land from a distance, from either land or sky.
A wolf howled in the coldness of night to call for its kin. Nobody seemed to notice or care as if they had forgotten wolves were dire competition. Even the dogs the people kept to protect their herds were disturbingly quiet, as if all they did was wait for death to collect them, having given up the fight beforehand.
But she remembered more than that. She recalled the clashing of rock, metal and bone, the splitting, tearing sound of destruction and fire, the cry of both fear and rage, the cry of utter bereavement. But there was more, so much more she remembered, even though she didn't understand.
There was one thing however, that haunted her still, haunted her more than anything else. One thing she would never forget. The rain. And still she screamed.
Lashing down with a thundering madness that left everything else to die down into oblivion, the fury of this heavenly force struck down onto the bare steppe and onto her naked flesh, soaking everything to its very core, turning everything within sight in a muddy puddle of semi-frozen earth, water and blood.
She recalled the slaughtering, passing her by like a ghost. The hatred, gruesome in the face of such innocence, the utter hatred that manifested itself in each and every movement these butchering, murdering barbarians made, evident in a massacre of the likes man had never seen before was more than she could bear. Those spared of death were enslaved, forced up like cattle. They were raped, beaten, and tormented. And if death did embrace them eventually, there wasn't much left to release from such martyr.
She remembered, even if she was too young to understand.
The Earth Mother wept that night, more than She had since the beginning of time. She wept for the loss of Her Children, She wept for the loss of Innocence. Her tears fell from the pitch-black heavens, embracing the anger, the hatred and malevolence of man.
The all consuming madness of incessant smoke billowing from the undying flames, unremittingly refusing to die at the hands of the Mother, hid the Sun and Moon, First of Her Children. But the wounded and helpless nomads left behind in a death bound world unleashed by the Sig'ri besiege would be embraced by darkness forever. None of them lived to see the dawning of a new Sun. None of them lived to see the next day, except one. A child, innocent and vulnerable, and above all the Earth Mother's Chosen. She would return the world to its initial origin; full of life and balanced at the Earth Mother's bidding. The way things had been since the first dawning, the way things should always have been.
This very infant would grow into a woman the way the Earth Mother had beckoned for long. Although her deeds held no innocence whatsoever, she herself was considered pure and unspoiled by the folly of continuous warfare and slaughter. She was the epiphany, the embodiment of purity. She was everything I always wanted.
The Earth Mother had taken pity on the child long ago. She had embraced her in all her mercy and refused to give her the life that was left, replacing it with life anew. Not many understand the way the Will of the Earth Mother is endowed in the world of man. And I don't think there will be anyone able to grasp what exactly happened back then, save the Mother Herself.
One thing would become clear as daylight once upon a time, for the child would grow into a legend. With her innocence and vigour she would manifest the Will of the Earth Mother once and for all. She would grow into a legend the likes of man had never seen except in tales of yore, except in the myths of the Birth of Our World. Through her hands, the world would be born once more. Through her hands, we would prevail, good would prevail, the Mother would prevail.
Oppressor and oppressed both knew of the legend. The iron-fisted Sig'ri, the peace-loving Lakri, and the subjugated indigenous Daieun all knew there was something out there in the vast woodlands, defying tribal territory, denying Human boundaries as a whole. The creature itself did have some sort of territory, unseen by either Nomad or Indigenous. Those trespassing trying to reveal her legacy, would vanish into the deep forests, never to return. Sole trace of them would be some torn clothing and weaponry scattered here and there and the occasional stray horse that was come across by accident.
It was said the creature roaming the plains at night was Human. Nobody knew of its origin, nobody knew why she was there.
Woman of the Wild was what they called her. As much beast as she was man. As little man as she was beast. She had no home. She did not belong and yet her prowess reflected in all, everywhere.
Nandone Keshna, Woman of the Wild, would grow into an unrivalled legend, unheard of in the known world. She put her will on tribes, warlords and armies, and in time, even on entire nations. She was an ordinary concubine, an outlawed slave, and a creature of the wild. And regardless of the legendary stature she would achieve later in her life, she was just like any other. All she wanted was to be free; all she needed was to be loved.
I close the small wooden box, scanning the silver embedded edges with the tips of my fingers. The amulet inside of the ornamented case now rests in the palm of my left hand. Slowly, I open my hand and cast my eyes onto the stone that reflects the beauty of what once was the woman I loved.
Keshna is dead.
My name is Riven, and I tell you the story of a legend. The tale of a young woman who unwillingly became a hero, and died, defending those she loved.
And she was only twenty-six years old.
Tonight in particular do I think of her. I can't bring myself to forget what's happened all those years ago and I fear I won't be able to keep those demons, eating away the ordinary, much loved life I have taken up ever since she died, at bay much longer. I have always breathed her legacy as if it was part of me, and frankly, I think it was, and still is an actual part of who I am today. I look out the stone window, gazing over a lush valley filled with life and activity, even at this late hour. A gentle rain is falling from the skies, reminding me of the woman I loved, reminding me of her strength.
I sigh with frustration, unable to push away the thoughts of what she was like and why I actually loved her, anymore.
I don't really remember how her family had died but as far as I can reconstruct the past with the bits and pieces she handed to me on the few occasions that we did talk, I'm convinced the Sig'ri killed them all. She never really wanted to talk about the life she had led before we met. She had never been the kind of woman to openly discuss what went on inside of her. All she ever showed were basic feelings such as irritation, fear and intuition. Why I think so? I once took her to where she must've been born but she didn't even seem to register the least form of recognition whatsoever. So, how do I know what happened? I just know. The nightmares, her impulsive behaviour, everything measured up in the end.
She had always dreaded the rain and I'm sure it resulted from the very night the Sig'ri besieges reached her birth village and slaughtered each and every inhabitant. She couldn't have been much older than two, maybe three years old but she definitely wasn't too young to have the horrors that took place back then burn into her soul forever. What happened next would only further shape her and make for the fact she'd never be able to love me the way that I loved her.
It was the highlight of winter when we met. She was a runaway, and she must have been wandering for days before I found her. All skin and bone, my father's royal staff of physicians and even the shaman herself assured me she wouldn't make it through that first night. They were wrong. She'd survive, and much, much more than that; she'd outgrow even the wildest fantasies and legends comprising her even at such a young age.
It was a night like any other. As I sat close to the fire, trying desperately to keep warm enough to not have my toes freeze off, I dispatched two fresh guards to relieve the two I sent out when the moon first peaked over the horizon, hours ago. As if utterly fascinated by the scorching flames that dug their way through the twigs and logs the camp fire consisted of, I was probably one of the last to notice the turmoil developing at the eastern end of camp.
"Lord Riven! There's some sort of beast in the stock pavilion!"
I heard my regal advisor call for me. I didn't understand what all the commotion was about in the first place; normally one or two soldiers would simply kill the creature and be done with it. This time however, I could hear at least a dozen of my soldiers screaming and shouting in confusion and none of them seemed daring to enter the pavilion. As I made my way over to the centre of the racket I didn't even bother to draw my sword and simply walked up to where my regal advisor had word with one of my army commanders.
"What's this all about?" I inquired, folding my arms as to look older than I was. I was still so very young back then, just a boy, really.
I could see Gendhin's bright eyes reflecting the light of the torches some of the soldiers held in order to see at least a bit more than a hand in front of their face. Gendhin was one of my most trusted commanders and no matter the situation he always knew what to do. Right now on the other hand, he looked at least as puzzled as that martially incompetent regal advisor of mine.
"I'm not too sure, Riven," he said, addressing me the way I preferred; no royal designations, nor any talking around facts. Obviously, Gendhin indeed didn't have a clue what was going on. I nodded at him; reassuring him it wasn't as terrible to me as he undoubtedly thought. He showed me a hint of a smile and looked me straight in the face, finally elaborating what he did know. "None of the soldiers is willing to go in there." He gestured to the stock pavilion whilst he explained to me what the circumstances were. "They're all delirious, as if a ghost has overtaken their usual reason."
Somewhat annoyed by Gendhin's abnormal fencing I sighed, making clear to him he should spit out whatever was the matter.
"They say it's not just any animal in there," he told me eventually, "They say it's the Nandone Keshna."
I couldn't help but laugh as he'd said that. "Woman of the Wild?" I wondered, trying to suppress my forthcoming laughter. "Gendhin, didn't you get your share of sleep last night? You of all don't believe such gibberish folklore!"
"I didn't," the army commander answered, "At least, until now."
"What are you talking about?" I asked, somewhat irritated.
Without further hesitance, Gendhin grabbed a torch from the closest of soldiers in the back, and led me to one of the edges of the enormous stock pavilion where we stored most of our food and weaponry supplies. In the deceptive glow of the lit torch I could see a shadow move across on the inside of the pavilion. What I saw outdid all reason I had always held on to. What I saw was an illusive creature, spoken of in myth and legend only. No one had ever witnessed her presence and lived to tell the tale! No wonder the soldiers had been – and still were – so aghast. I wondered if one of the sentinels who had stood guard by the pavilion's entrance could tell me a bit more of the creature.
"Gendhin," I said, gesturing the commander to lean in closer. "What about the sentinels standing guard at the pavilion's entrance?"
"They're dead, sir."
"Dead?" I frowned, wondering what had happened. "Both of them?"
"I'm afraid so," Gendhin answered, turning away his eyes to look upon the shadow of the creature that crouched motionless, as if waiting for a sign from us to start moving again. "She killed them," the commander concluded ultimately, waiting for me to take action, not sure what he should do himself. "And in case you were wondering," he interrupted before I could even fully start what I was planning on asking, "None of the others caught more than just a glimpse of her. She's extremely fast."
I sighed, definitely not enjoying what the commander had just told me. Glancing at the frightened faces of the soldiers nearby, I shook my head, not the least bothered by the fact everyone expected of me to take much needed action. I was their leader for a reason, not just because I was my father's son and henceforth heir to his throne but mostly because I had earned respect and leadership by taking action when necessary and achieving vital triumphs over our much dreaded enemy, the Sig'ri.
"I bet she's not as dangerous as you all claim her to be," I said to myself, trying not to show the others how unnerved I really was. As if guided by an external, perhaps even divine power, I strolled to the entrance of the pavilion and slid aside the tent's curtain that covered the opening to ensure not just anybody could see what was stored inside, commonly used to keep predators away. I ignored the shouting of worried soldiers, advisors and commanders that had come closer as soon as the rest of the camp had been inspected for other possible intruders. If I wouldn't go in there to see what all the fuss was about, who would?
When I peered through the opening I had arranged upon shoving aside the curtain, I caught a glimpse of the mangled backside belonging to a tiny, naked woman. I blinked. Was this those soldiers had gotten so worked up about? Had this little girl killed two of my better sentinels? I couldn't believe it.
"Lord Riven, are you okay? What do you see?!"
I could hear my royal advisor calling for me in the distance. He seemed further away than I remembered him to be. Although at first I wanted to reply, even if it'd be to reassure them I was fine, I changed my mind. I didn't want to startle the girl who sat in front of me motionless.
I walked in soundlessly, kneeling behind her. "Who are you?" I asked.
In a flash, she turned and wielded her clawed fists at me, letting out a shriek that was beyond any sound I had ever heard any human being emit. I was able to avoid getting hit by letting myself fall back, and it seemed to me the spikes she had wrapped around her knuckles had broken off into the corpse she had been leaning over.
I had never seen anything quite like this. Her hair tousled, her eyes darker than anything I had ever seen in my life. Finally, I began to wonder what in the name of the Earth Mother she really was. Was she actually the one they called Nandone Keshna, Woman of the Wild? Or was she just a runaway slave? She didn't move, simply stared at me, and that look in her eyes made me think even if she was the Woman of the Wild everyone, even my most loyal army commander, claimed her to be, there had to be something human about her. She almost looked frightened, fragile even, in those few moments we just stared at one another, and I reached out to touch her cheek.
She produced a low snarl and showed her gums. Crawling backwards on all fours she lowered her head and clapped her teeth against each other. Everything about her told me to stay back and allow her to calm down. I don't think many coming as close as I did lived to tell the story. Personally, I'm convinced this embellished her myth and made for everyone to believe she was more beast than man, or woman.
"Easy," I assured her, "I'm not going to hurt you."
I knew I had made a mistake when I reached out my hand a second time. Something in her features changed and she lashed out, ripping open the left side of my face, barely skimming my eye. I screamed out in pain, and covered my face with both hands. I had tried to force her, and I shouldn't have. I realized now she was a wild animal after all.
As she started growling again, louder this time, I understood she was becoming more hostile. She produced a deafening scream before she started hissing and rose on her knees, spreading her arms, possibly to scare me away.
I looked through my hands and finally cast my eyes upon the corpse that lay behind her. Although his face was nearly unrecognizable I immediately knew the body belonged to one of the sentinels guarding the pavilion. His throat had been ripped open and it seemed he had suffocated on his own tongue before dying. I swallowed, hard. I had seen a lot of casualties of war and before that time I had even had the unpleasant experience of witnessing the finding of a massacre once. But this, this was beyond anything I had ever seen. I wasn't too sure about it but I suspected she had fed on the guard's carcass given the fact she defended her prey similar to wolves and lions would. Besides, her face was covered in blood and the sentinel had one arm all but ripped off, and one of his legs missed a big portion of flesh.
Of course, the blood across the girl's face and chest could've resulted from her slitting the man's throat but I couldn't be too careful. She seemed capable of anything and the low growls she produced wrecked my nerves to the point I definitely began fearing her.
I don't know why I didn't pull a weapon back then, possibly because I had seen a distant hint of humanity in her eyes that reminded me of that massacre I had come across a few years back. Some of the men and women at that godforsaken village had still been alive when our troops came upon them. I had seen the very glint of fear and recognition I had perceived in the eyes of those men dying as I had seen in this creature, the one they called the Nandone Keshna.
I lowered my hands, kneeling and tried to ignore the stinging sensation the blood dripping from my brow into my eyes caused.
She didn't come closer and she didn't back down either. She held her eyes upon mine, and instinctively I looked away. Long ago, my father had taught me never to look a predator straight in the eyes and I had taken that lesson to heart. My father had always been an avid hunter, much more than I ever was and if someone knew of animal behaviour it was my father, the king. To me, the fact she was the Woman of the Wild had just been proven, given the situation. But I wasn't planning on letting her escape. I would catch her and more than that: I'd make her mine.
How foolish I was. I could never make her mine, no matter how hard I tried. I soon found out her spirit was stronger than anything I had ever experienced or heard of in my life. I learned, unlike the taming of a lot of other animals, I couldn't get anywhere with her based on disparity and authority. Given her all-round conduct, I comprehended how much she must've been through. Not only had she lived a life in wilderness for as long as she remembered, she had been captivated by humans before. The reason that I'm talking about humans in the sense she wasn't one of us is that this is simply the truth. Nandone Keshna wasn't human, in some of the more obvious ways she might've been but on the inside, Keshna wasn't human, at all. She was a wild beast and would stay that way until the day she'd die.
She had collapsed moments after she had wounded me. And only then did I notice how emaciated she actually was. After staring dumbfounded for the Mother Goddess knows how long, I finally came to my senses again, realizing what had happened.
"Gendhin!" I called. "Get over here!"
It virtually took but a blink of an eye before Gendhin stood next to me, the tip of his blade ready to strike and defend my honour.
I could only half consciously feel how the blood dripped from my cheeks, down my chin onto my newly sowed wolf fur jacket. I didn't care.
"Riven, you're wounded," my most favoured officer commented, his sword still kept where it had been before, which was close to where the girl had collapsed.
I shrugged. It didn't matter. So what if this girl had added another scar to my arsenal of earlier collected trophies? Her condition was worse than mine, and she was in need of immediate medical assistance.
"Go get Lana. She'll know what to do with her," I told Gendhin, and I wiped away the streaks of blood trickling down my collarbones, to my chest. I knew if anyone could help her it would be Lana. Mandhi Lana was our legion's shaman or medicine woman, and she knew more of curing wounds and healing other conditions than any physician or general practitioner I had ever met.
I sat there, waiting. I didn't dare touch the Nandone Keshna, afraid I would do her more harm than good. I watched how her mangled backside moved up and down irrationally and uncontrolled. She breathed in rasps, her chest unmistakably raw with a serious cold. She kept her eyes closed but I was pretty sure she was awake and very aware of her surroundings. This young girl was different from all runaway slaves and abandoned concubines I had seen since childhood. She was pure, and unrefined. She was unsophisticated but rotten all the same.
"Lana refused to come with me. She said she rejected to treat a demonic beast sent from the depths of the Sig'ri pandemonium." Gendhin had returned, and he wasn't bringing the news I had wished to hear. From the back of my mind I could almost hear Lana utter the very words Gendhin had just told me.
I stood, suddenly overtaken by a bottled up anger I couldn't place. "Damn that woman to the Afterlife Of Sig'ri Warlords! Does she have any idea whom she's talking to?!" As if guided by a force other than my own, I picked up the Nandone Keshna, and brought her to the pavilion of royal physicians at the other end of camp.
Upon walking passed several smaller tents where soldiers usually spent the night when not called up to stand guard, I was watched closely with prudence and wonder by those unable to catch any sleep. Snow had begun falling and I watched how tiny snowflakes fell onto the girl's bare skin. Her body didn't even respond to what seemed to me must be at the very least a bit chilly. I wondered whether she was even still alive when I brought her into the pavilion, where a pleasant fire warmed the entire area from the centre to each of the eight corners.
"Lendhar, Gunn and Morir, any of you," I said, sounding not nearly as calm as I had expected. "Tend to her, please." I realized I must come across rather desperate pleading to doctors standing to me and my soldiers' service no questions asked, and at any hour of the day. But I felt it might make clear to them how urgent the girl's condition was. To me, it didn't matter if she truly was the Nandone Keshna. To me, all that mattered was that she deserved the medical attention we had been forced to refuse so many civilians already, ever since scarcity and dearth had begun plaguing our lands unremittingly. Back then, I foolishly thought I could repay the guilt I had stained my hands with by no longer serving my people but serving my selfish need to be their saviour, forgetting by being the way I was back then I caused them more impairment above anything else.
None of my physicians seemed to protest when I placed her onto the left one of two present treatment settees, and I wondered if they had had a single clue on what had happened moments before I had found her. I wondered if they had heard of the death of two of my best guards. I wondered if they had any notion at all regarding this matter. But then, who'd really care?
I watched carefully as they examined her. Reluctantly, and unwilling to concede, I noticed how they shook heads one after another. Baring my teeth, I realized there wasn't much they could do. When one of them moved away from her and brought me a folded cloth drenched in some sort of herbal solution to clean out my wound, he kneeled beside me, his face troubled.
"Tell me the truth, Gunn," I said.
"Yes, Milord." He coughed, and rubbed his temple. "I'm not sure how to explain but it seems what we have here isn't an ordinary woman. At least, not in the way the Earth Mother brought to being so long ago."
I laughed against my better judgment. "Gunn!" I complained. "Don't be ridiculous." For some reason, one I couldn't grasp nor comprehend, I had started whispering. I frowned. "What do you mean 'not in the way the Earth Mother brought to being'? Isn't she human? Is she the Nandone Keshna?"
The very moment I had spoken of the Woman of the Wild, a shiver went through the room and I noticed how Lendhar and Morir, the two other physicians, looked up, fright all over their faces. Part of me wanted to apologize for upsetting them but I soon realized there wasn't anything for me to say sorry about. If she truly was the Nandone Keshna, the fact whether she was or wasn't human could easily be explained. Nandone Keshna must be somewhere in between. Nandone Keshna was neither human nor bestial. Even so, then what in the name of Our Goddess was she?
"She might be," Gunn replied coolly. "But I can assure you she's far from anything I've come across since…" He fell silent, all of the sudden wondering when in the world he had ever witnessed an equal creature. "Since… ever."
"Not quite, Gunn." I heard one of the others present comment.
I looked up, noticing Morir standing over me.
"If I may be so blunt, Milord, she might be the Nandone Keshna. She might be more bestial than any human being ever seen. May the Earth Mother thwart so; she might even be more bestial than the Sig'ri. But she definitely, most definitely is physically as human as any man or woman."
I rose to my feet, and dropped the cloth I had held to my brow. I walked up closer, to look at her face. As she lay there, silent and tranquil, her calm reminded me of the dawning of the Sun. Regardless of how powerful she was said to be, she looked more fragile and delicate than even a newborn. Was she an angel? No. She had randomly killed two of my sentinels. But then, perhaps she had felt intimidated and had only defended herself from what she had thought a threat. Could she have known any better? Had she any idea on what the world of people truly was like? Had she even lived amongst humans beside in captivity? So many questions burst from the back of my head, down my tongue, though I couldn't express any of them. Who'd be able to answer? Honestly, I hadn't a clue.
"Too bad we'll never find out where she came from," said Lendhar.
"Why not?" I asked, fearing I already knew the answer.
"She isn't strong enough. Not anymore. I'm amazed she survived so long on her own. As far as I can tell she's been on her own for at least two moon cycles if not much, much longer. She has old wounds that date back even further, wounds that haven't been inflicted by man."
Lendhar pointed out the scar tissue on her thighs, stomach and chest. He showed me a long, edged scar, of which three similar ones flowed raucously to its sides. These were prints of either a lion or a bear's claw. I wasn't too sure as the wound was very, very old, dating back to the point where she must've been but a child. She had one scar across her cheek, missing her artery down her neck by but a sweat drop. If I wasn't mistaken such wounds were usually mortal. I wondered how she could ever have survived. She was utterly covered in smaller and bigger imperfections and scars: bite marks, clawed, deep scratches, ripped up flesh and scorched legs and arms. Absolutely, I hadn't even seen a war fatigue soldier nearing the end of his days in battlefield carry as many trophies as she did. In fact, I think for a moment there I was jealous of her combat prestige observed through her scarred body. Even now I discovered new marks over and over. She even had hoof prints possibly belonging to an elk at the pit of her stomach. I tried to imagine how much it must have hurt but I couldn't. I couldn't even begin to fathom how she could ever have survived to this day. The Earth Mother must really have had big plans for her, and because of this conviction I was certain she'd make it through the night, regardless of what anyone told me.
***
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Midge
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'Stillness Chapter One':
• Created by:
Jorieke ´JoSav´ Savelkouls• Copyright: ©Jorieke ´JoSav´ Savelkouls. All rights reserved!
• Keywords: Death, Love, Memories, Of, The, Wild, Woman
• Categories: Fights, Duels, Battles, Romance, Emotion, Love, Vampires, Zombies, Undeads, Dark, Gothic, Warrior, Fighter, Mercenary, Knights, Paladins, Wizards, Priests, Druids, Sorcerers..., Celtic
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Mod Pick at: 2003-12-27 09:25:52• Views: 718
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