Chapter Two

"Kalwen!" Kalwen's mother, Kiladane called to her five-year-old daughter, out in the garden, "Kallie, come back here!"

Kalwen wandered out farther, giggling and looking back often at Kiladane. Kiladane sighed and shook her head. Kalwen started running faster as she heard her mother run after her.

It was swift. There was a loud crack and Kalwen whirled around. Where her mother had stood, an avalanche had slid. By some work of fate, Kalwen had been spared by only about two feet.

Kalwen was dumbfounded. Her five-year-old mind was slow to contemplate what had happened.

"Mama?" Kalwen called cautiously, "Mama!"

There was no replying call. Tears started to trickle down Kalwen's face. Even though she hadn't figured it out yet, her body knew what had happened.

"Mamaaaaaaaaaaa!" Kalwen sobbed, and yelled, and screamed until her voice went hoarse. She beat the snowy ground with her fists, and when she ran out of energy, she lay curled up on the rocky ground, her streaming tears making snow into slush around her face.

Kalwen had no siblings, and her father had left before her birth. She lay there in shock and finally, fell asleep.

"Sweetheart, wake up," Kalwen heard a soft female voice in her ear.

"Just a few minutes, Mama," she said sleepily, holding up a finger.

The voice left.

Kalwen woke up in a small room, and sunlight streamed in through the windows. The bed was merely a cot, and a thin cotton blanket covered her. She climbed out of bed, shaking her long brown hair out of her face. With a hard yank, the door opened. She wandered out into the hallway. She didn't know what she was looking for, though.

"Girl!" a voice came behind her. Kalwen turned around and looked up with her silvery eyes. It was a man of about 23, and with him was a young boy, about her age. He had dark brown hair and amber eyes.

"What's your name?" he asked gruffly, "What room were you in?"

"I'm Kalwen," she said simply, "I can't remember what room.

"You're Kalwen?" he asked sharply, "Oh alright. Come with me and Kaeldros."

Kalwen followed the man and the boy, right, his name was Kaeldros, into a large room filled with talking adults.

"Irene!" he shouted, "Irene!"

A woman wove her way through the crowd, and stopped in front of the man.

"What, Paul?" she asked impatiently, "If this has to do with that stupid airhead, then the answer is no."

"Actually, it's not about the airhead, for once," he said, his cheerful smile dropping instantly, "It's about this girl, Kalwen."

Irene stopped her impatient foot tapping at once. She bent down to Kalwen's eye level.

"Kalwen, was your mother Kiladane of Whitefang Mountains?"

Kalwen nodded. She noticed Irene had a small drawing of a wolf on the back of her hand. Men with similar drawings had visited her mother before. But where was Mama?

"Come with me, Kalwen. Paul, you can come too," Irene took Kalwen by her hand and led her to a different room. Paul and Kaeldros followed.

"Kalwen, please, sit," Irene gestured to a plush armchair. Kalwen climbed up onto it and snuggled into the soft plush.

"Kalwen, do you know where you are?" Irene asked gently.

Kalwen shook her head. "Where's Mama?" she asked.

"Kalwen, Mama won't be coming back," said Irene, straightforward, but gently.

Kalwen froze. "Why?" she asked, her silver eyes innocent. She had no memory of the day before.

"Remember the snow, Kalwen? Remember everything crashing down?" Irene asked, softly stroking the young girl's hair.

Kalwen did. The terrible image was still clear in her mind. Irene had triggered the memory that had until then, been forgotten in Kalwen's shock.

Kalwen started to cry. The sobs wracked her whole body, and she curled up in the seat of the armchair. This continued on for a few minutes, until Kalwen's sobs were reduced to hiccups, and she was half-asleep.

Kaeldros and Paul watched, silent. Kaeldros felt pity for the girl, Kalwen. Paul, with his gruff appearance, was soft at heart, and it hurt him to see such a young girl in such sorrow.

Irene scooped up Kalwen in her arms and took her to an empty sleeping room. She laid her in the cot, and closed the door softly.

"Well?" Paul asked.

"She's too traumatized. Maybe tomorrow we'll be able to explain." She looked at Kaeldros, "Well, young man, you've been trailing us all morning. Go play with your friends, little one."

Kaeldros slipped his hand out of Paul's and ran outside. Irene and Paul watched him go.

"Two young'uns, all in the same year," said Paul, "Both have the same eyes."

"Yes," Irene said softly, "Eyes reflecting sorrow."