Chapter 4

Siofra stood by her father's aravel, attaching arrow tips to wooden stems. Her older sister Neria sat by the fire, preparing dinner. Siofra felt like Neria was watching her and it was annoying her. She turned the other way and began to hum a song as she worked. Siofra could still feel her sister's eyes boring into her. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. She ended her song abruptly and threw her work onto the ground.

"What!" she gasped, glaring at Neria. Neria continued stirring the pot, sitting calmly and quietly. Siofra walked over to the fire and took a seat. "Well, are you going to answer me?"

Neria slowly began pouring the contents of the pot into serving bowls. Siofra tapped her foot in impatience. "I have noticed, sister, that lately you have been going out to hunt more often than usual." Neria finally spoke.

"Your point?" Siofra retorted. She felt a slight unease in the pit of her stomach.

"Although you have been hunting more than usual, you seem to bring in less than you used to." Neria paused, passing a bowl to Siofra. "Now I wonder why that is. You are a great hunter."

Siofra tried to keep her hands from shaking. By the gods, she is on to me. Neria was right, she had been going out to hunt more often, but that was because she was actually going to the ruins, to check on Rory and to give him whatever she caught. It had been two weeks since she had accidently shot him. His wound was better, yet he did not make any move to leave. Nor did the Templars come around. Siofra had no idea why she kept going to see him. She knew he could take care of himself. He didn't need her to feed him. She supposed she was just curious. She had never known a human before. He had many stories to tell and he was such a buffoon that he made her laugh all the time. But if her father ever found out what was going on… she didn't even want to think of the possibilities. Her sister becoming suspicious was bad enough. She had to deflect the suspicions somehow.

"I guess I just have not been lucky." Siofra said, trying to hide the anxiety from her voice. She shrugged, and then took a bite of her meal.

"Luck? You are skilled, you don't need luck." Neria mused, keeping a watchful eye on Siofra.

"Even the most skilled hunters cannot combat poor pickings." Siofra replied. She needed to change the subject. "Where is your husband?"

"He trades with humans." Neria said, a look of annoyance overcoming her face. At that moment, Siofra's father Theron joined them at the fire. Siofra and Neria nodded their greetings.

"Andaren atish'an, daughters," he said as he sat down and accepted a bowl from Neria. They ate in silence for a few moments. The forest leaves rustled and shook in the wind. A warm breeze swayed into the camp, causing the cooking fire to ripple and crackle. Theron regarded Siofra intently. Siofra became uncomfortable again. She unconsciously squirmed. "Emm'asha," he said. My girl.

"Father?" Siofra replied. She put her bowl down. Uh oh he's got that serious look on his face. I hope this is not about my forest wanderings…

"You are not such a little girl anymore, are you? No, you are a young woman. I am getting old." He paused and sighed. Siofra let go of her breath, unaware that she had been holding it in. "I think it is time for you to undergo the vallaslin. It is time you get your tattoos."

Siofra was caught off guard. She knew this day was coming. She had been looking forward to it. Her excitement grew and she smiled broadly at her father. She would become a fully fledged adult, and a full member of the clan.

"Oh father, I am pleased!" she exclaimed. She got up and ran to Theron, giving him a big hug. Theron was not expecting this and, a little awkwardly, returned the hug, chuckling at his daughter's enthusiasm.

"You know it will be painful." Neria warned, a look of envy at the love Theron showed his youngest daughter. Theron, who rarely smiled or laughed, could only ever do so at the antics of Siofra.

"I am ready, Neria." Siofra said, releasing her father. Neria rolled her eyes.

"There is also the matter of finding you a husband." Theron continued. Siofra tensed up, not sure if she was ready for this part yet. "I would suggest Silas, he is a great hunter."

Siofra snorted. "He is also the Keeper's son."

Theron looked crossly at Siofra. "There is no other worthy of you, emm'asha." Siofra reddened. She glanced quickly at Neria, who gathered the now empty bowls with a scowl on her face. Siofra had grown up with Silas, but they had never been friends. He always stood aloof from the other elves. He carried an air of superiority with him that grated on Siofra and she tended to ignore him, though he rarely paid any attention to her anyway.

Neria, on the other hand, looked at Silas as all the other female elves did – Silas was as close to a god as any had ever seen. She had hoped that she and he could have been matched, but that never happened. Her father had pushed her to match with Alras. Alras the poor hunter, and even worse warrior. He couldn't even aim an arrow to save his life. Alras, the utter bore who relied on trade with humans to make a living. She wondered why her father even pushed for the match, seeing as he hated humans so much. She had thought that Theron would have nothing to do with Alras since he was the only one among the clan to ever have regular contact with humans. Yes, Silas would have been the perfect match for her. He was handsome, a great warrior, and he could provide her with anything she ever dreamed of. Instead, Theron was suggesting Silas to Siofra, and no doubt he had already brought up the matter with Silas.

"Excuse me, but, I uh, have to go, um collect herbs for the elders. I promised them I would." Siofra said, quickly making up an excuse to get out of there. Well, it was true, she had promised to find herbs for the elders, but she didn't have to do it now. "Before it gets dark." She added for good measure. Her father sighed and waved her off. She nodded her thanks and quickly darted down the path to the forest. She would go see Rory, and tell him the good news.

Meanwhile, Theron stood up, ready to get back to work. He was the clan's craftsmaster, carving weapons out of the powerful ironbark for a living. Neria smiled his way as he passed her. "Father," she acknowledged. He gave her a short grunt and did not bother looking her way, or even thanking her for the meal. Enraged at the favour he clearly showed Siofra, she furiously threw the bowls onto the ground. No matter what she did, no matter that she was the first born; she always got the short end of the stick. It was always Siofra this and Siofra that. What did she ever do to deserve this? She found herself asking that over and over again. It wasn't even her fault that mother had died. That, that was Siofra's doing. Siofra came into this world and dragged her mother out of it.