Cries and screams echoed through the previously silent night air, carried by the wind. Flames reached out, quickly catching on the thatched roofs. Isówyn sat up abruplty, awoken by her mother's gentle nudges.
"Isówyn, quick. Get dressed," her mother whispered fiercly.
"Momma? What's going on? Where's Pappa?" Isówyn's small voice called out.
"Hush, dear one. Everything will be alright. I promise." Her mother quickly urged her up and dressed her, covering her in a thick, warm cloak. Horrendous sounds flooded the room through the open window. Shreiks of death, from both human and beast. The harsh and flickering light of the flames outside reached into the room, casting ominous shadows.
"Momma, I'm scared," Isówyn whispered. In answer, she was pressed into an embrace; her mother's arms wrapped around her comfortingly. She looked up at her mothers bright blue eyes, they were barely visible in the darkness. She felt her mother kiss her on the forehead. Her mother then gave her a heavy pack, it contained what little food they had in the house along with a heavy blanket. Reluctantly, she placed a sheathed knife in her young daughter's hand.
"Do not be afraid to use this. Protect yourself Isówyn." At that, her mother rushed her out the back door to the stables. Her mother stopped her from looking over her shoulder, knowing knowing that the young girl would become gripped with fear at the sight.
Isówyn felt herself being lifted up onto her small horse, Eorla. Eorla stamped beneath her, frightened by the impending threat.
"Ride, Isówyn. Ride as far as you can. And don't look back," her mother urged the horse off, calling to her daughter one last time. "I love you, dear one."
Her mother's beautiful face was plastered in her mind, sorrow-filled and loving. Her beautiful blue eyes rimmed with red, tears freely flowing down her face. She saw her mother's rosy lips mouth those words over and over. "I love you, dear one. I love you."
Isówyn's eyes opened. She could feel that her cheeks were tear stained. The dark night pressed in on her. "I love you too, Momma."
She sat up, putting together her pack. She would get no more sleep this night. She was haunted by her dreams. She could not forget that night no matter how hard she tried. It had been almost a year since she had fled, but every night she dreamed the same dream. Every night, her mind was filled with the image of her mother's face.
"Come, Eorla." She called her horse to her, and gracefully mounted. The pair travelled almost silently through the night. They could barely be seen in the darkness; a small, dark brown mare and a young rider of no more than twelve years with long, dark brown hair that waved lightly in the night wind.
They traveled on as they had since that horrid night. Only stopping when rest was absolutely necessary. They had no place to go, yet they never stopped moving. Isówyn was too frightened to stop, too frightened to become attatched to one place ever again.
They rode on the edges of Fangorn. Isówyn remembered the stories her mother had told her, and kept a cautious distance. The forest felt threatening, and she had no desire to approach it. Eventually, they came to a small stream. Isówyn clumsily dismounted, they had recently run out of water and she knew they wouldn't have lasted much longer. She allowed Eorla to drink as she crouched on the bank herself, splashing her face and drinking the clear, cool water. Isówyn caught a glimpse of her reflection in the water. She looked so different then she recalled. She seemed much older than she was, her face betrayed the burden she carried.
Suddenly, she saw a shadow move beside her. She felt hot breath on her neck, and could smell a fetid stench. She heard a low, rumbling, threatening growl. She stood quickly, pulling her knife from her belt. Standing before her was a large, black warg, poised and ready to attack. It's dark eyes were focused on Eorla, as if it hadn't even seen Isówyn. She froze, as time seemed to stand still and the warg pounced on her beloved horse. Eorla's shrieks filled the air and blended with her own.
The warg turned from its freshly killed prey to look at Isówyn. It's eyes were filled with loathing and hunger. Blood matted the fur of its face. It seemed that she looked into those cruel eyes for an eternity before it soon moved to attack her too. Isówyn gripped her knife in her hand as tight as she could manage. She slowly backed up to the bed of the stream. The warg pounced and she dashed out of the way, rolling behind Eorla's still body.
The warg turned and pursued, its fur was dripping from its momentary swim in the stream. It stalked toward her, growling once more. This time as it leapt at her, Isówyn ducked, driving her knife into the soft belly above her. The warg tumbled as it howled, thrashing in pain. Isówyn watched in horror as it finally stilled. Only then did she release her breath. It was finally over.
She turned and collapsed onto Eorla's body, overcome with grief. She was Rohirrim, and had a special bond with her horse. She could not see how she would manage without her steed. As she sobbed onto Eorla's body, she heard faint movement behind her, accompanied by quiet, high pitched whimpers.
She turned, wiping her eyes free of tears. There, before her was a small, black warg pup, nudging and licking its fallen mother. Hearing her gasp, the pup looked at her with its piercing black, sorrow-filled eyes. It looked away, lowering its head before circling and lying down beside its mother.
Isówyn sat and watched it, it was still dark and she had no desire to move on. She started a fire and observed the mourning warg pup as she pondered what to do next. The pup ignored her and posed no threat at the moment. She was intrigued by the warg and felt guilt for killing its mother, despite the fact that it was in self defense. She sat by the fire and watched, and was soon asleep.
Isówyn woke to the sound of tearing flesh and growls. She opened her eyes to see the pup tearing at Eorla. She gasped in horror as the warg ripped apart her friend. She moved to pull her knife and stop it, but paused as it looked up at her. It pained her to see her friend in that way, but she knew the warg must be starved. It had lost its mother and had no chance at hunting. She had no way to bury Eorla and knew other animals would devour her body anyway. It hurt her, but she did not stop it. Instead, she doused her fire and shouldered her pack. Isówyn left her only friend behind along with the warg, and set off once more.
The next night as she sat by her fire preparing to eat she heard the high pitched whimpers once more. The small black warg pup stepped into the firelight and looked up at her. It slowly crept over to her, circled, and lay down beside her. She gripped her knife in her hand, but could not force herself to use it.
"Oh, why can't I kill you?" She yelled as she flung her knife into the groud beside her, her hand trembling. The small warg looked up at her, its head slightly cocked to the side. It's eyes held that same, sad look that it first gazed at her with. Isówyn sighed in surrender as she gently held out a hand. The warg sniffed it hesitantly, then nipped at it playfully. Isówyn gently ran a hand along the matted, black fur. The beast seemed half starved.
"No wonder your mother attacked us. You look as if you haven't eaten in days." She ripped a generous piece from the deer she had caught and prepared and tossed it to the warg. The odd pair sat beside each other in the light of the flickering fire, eating together in an unspoken truce. A truce that would soon be replaced by friendship.