In the hinterlands, there is a lonely, forgotten mountain known by many as Mount Fraught. She has always envied her sisters to the south: popular peaks that are the sites of only happy occasions, such as pleasant hikes, midday picnics, and starry moonlit nights. Alas, Mount Fraught can boast no such pleasantries. Instead, she has freezing temperatures, vicious snow gnats, and only one lonely festival a year that takes place at the false spring. I'm sorry to say that it is atop this lonely peak that this story begins.
It was at the height of the false spring, a time where the snow melts for a short time only to glumly return to its former frozen state, that two women, with faces as white as their surroundings, trudged silently down the mountain.
They walked together, as they always did, and pondered their fate. Shell-shocked, they remembered their own words in silence. The slighter one, who only went by the name Tocuna, had only muttered the word "no" earlier, but that "no" echoed through her head inceassantly, refusing to go away. That "no" had lead them there; because she had said that word, the both of them were walking down this desolate mountainside away from a terrible villain, away from all the fires, away from a struggle, and farther away from everything that was familiar to her and her companion.
The wind was biting at her skin, but she was past caring. She just walked on, staring at nothing, with her companion at her side, surely and steadily going nowhere.
That same night, only after the sun had left the dreary sky, the other pale woman, known as Flo, sat in the dim light of the dying embers that was once a small campfire. She poked at it a bit with a stick, watching it give off a few frail sparks. Next to her, Tocuna was lying down on the hard floor, asleep, with a small smile on her face. In the flickering light, Flo lovingly swept a few strands away from her sister's face and smiled sadly.
For as long as Flo could remember, the two sisters had always been inseparable; Flo had never seen a photograph of either of them apart. "Thick as two thieves", people used to call them, "like two peas in a pod". Even with their separate personalities, the sisters fit together like puzzle pieces. Flo was the oldest and was always sad and serious, while her sister was noted for her cheery disposition.
Even after all that had happened to them, Tocuna had tried to keep her sister's spirits high, but Flo could tell that the terrible events that they had to endure were wearing even on Tocuna's spirit. As Flo gave the fire one last jab with her stick before she leaned back against the hard wall to try to sleep, she made herself a promise.
As soon as we get down from this wretched mountain, I'll protect her so she'll never be unhappy again.
Author's note!
So, yeah, this is my second real story that I'm actually putting effort into. I'm not sure what I intend to do with this one, but at least it has an okay first chapter, right? I hope all my loyal reviewers from "The Story of the Snicket Siblings" will follow this one and enjoy it as well as the last one!
This whole story is dedicated to my older sister, Sarah. I love her more than anything, and I don't know what I'd do without her.