3SpdDragster
First Post
Ydadoras and Rikka
Rikka looks at the ghostly tree’s that encircled her former home, after several hours of walking she realised it covered a large area. Beyond the white trunks of the oaks the forest was dark, overgrown and had an air of menace. “What had happened?” she thinks to herself.
Lost in her reverie she almost didn’t notice a shape detach from one of the trees, but her training allowed her to react quickly to the threat.
The other elf looked at her with rapier in hand his shield held loosely by his side. For some reason he looked familiar. A puzzled expression crosses his face. “Rikka?” he asks in a voice barely above a whisper.
Recognition comes to her, this elf was a hunter from her village, she had known of him growing up.
“Ydadoras?” she queries.
He nods guardedly. “Your parents will be pleased to see you. Follow me.” Without waiting to see if she followed the hunter silently crept into the forest becoming one with it almost instantly. Rikka follows, her own training making her just as quiet in the forest as it did in the city.
For six hours they travel north in silence, Ydadoras pausing frequently to examine a trail or sign of some spoor. Finally, he breaks into a loping run that Rikka finds easy to match and the pair came into view of an encampment.
Tents dotted the glade, dozens of them. People moved about and children played happily. Several elves turned to look at the pair, bows at the ready. It was then that Rikka noticed how heavily armed everyone was.
“Most of our people got out,” Ydadoras states. “Come.”
He leads Rikka to a tent where a small toddler struggled to walk to an elven woman. The child saw Rikka and grinned, causing the woman to turn. Seeing the mirror image of herself, Rikka felt something give way inside her, a sense of belonging bloomed.
“Meet me by the fire later,” Ydadroras states before moving away.
“Rikka?” the woman whispers and a slow smile creeps across her face. She picks up the child and swings it onto her hip. “Jorra!” she calls out.
From behind the tent Rikka sees her father step out, sword belted at the waist. He stops and stares, after a moment he wipes a tear from his eye. “Well, I guess we had best introduce you to your little sister.”
Rikka looks at the ghostly tree’s that encircled her former home, after several hours of walking she realised it covered a large area. Beyond the white trunks of the oaks the forest was dark, overgrown and had an air of menace. “What had happened?” she thinks to herself.
Lost in her reverie she almost didn’t notice a shape detach from one of the trees, but her training allowed her to react quickly to the threat.
The other elf looked at her with rapier in hand his shield held loosely by his side. For some reason he looked familiar. A puzzled expression crosses his face. “Rikka?” he asks in a voice barely above a whisper.
Recognition comes to her, this elf was a hunter from her village, she had known of him growing up.
“Ydadoras?” she queries.
He nods guardedly. “Your parents will be pleased to see you. Follow me.” Without waiting to see if she followed the hunter silently crept into the forest becoming one with it almost instantly. Rikka follows, her own training making her just as quiet in the forest as it did in the city.
For six hours they travel north in silence, Ydadoras pausing frequently to examine a trail or sign of some spoor. Finally, he breaks into a loping run that Rikka finds easy to match and the pair came into view of an encampment.
Tents dotted the glade, dozens of them. People moved about and children played happily. Several elves turned to look at the pair, bows at the ready. It was then that Rikka noticed how heavily armed everyone was.
“Most of our people got out,” Ydadoras states. “Come.”
He leads Rikka to a tent where a small toddler struggled to walk to an elven woman. The child saw Rikka and grinned, causing the woman to turn. Seeing the mirror image of herself, Rikka felt something give way inside her, a sense of belonging bloomed.
“Meet me by the fire later,” Ydadroras states before moving away.
“Rikka?” the woman whispers and a slow smile creeps across her face. She picks up the child and swings it onto her hip. “Jorra!” she calls out.
From behind the tent Rikka sees her father step out, sword belted at the waist. He stops and stares, after a moment he wipes a tear from his eye. “Well, I guess we had best introduce you to your little sister.”
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