I sometimes wonder how flying creatures lift themselves into the air. I also wonder why the world is a cruel place, and wish I could fly. To escape far from the horrors that plagued this life.
The flock of sparrows I had been observing had just lifted from the branch in the distance, likely to begin their long migration south for the winter. Standing from my crouched position, and taking aim with my bow, I fire into the air, trying to hit one for supper when I am startled from my hunt. My sister Sarah is leaned out the front door of our house hollering with an odd tone in her voice.
"Elaina! Father is waiting for you!" I rush into the house, closing the solid door behind me, then hear the crash of a bottle on the wood floor. The harsh thunk and glass shattering reverberates in my ears, even from the other room, making me wince with the all too familiar noise. I begin to tremble in fear of the memories, and what I am sure will come if I haven't made money enough to please him today.
"This is what you get, you rotten bitch! Making such messes in my home," he yelled, despite his rotten breath being palpable from his mouth next to my ear. " Clean it before you get more lashings than I already have planned!" My father yells angrily at me as I continue gagging, having already lost all of the food and bile in my body. He had kicked me in the ribs only making the aching and heaving of my gut feel worse.
Sarah walks into the room we share cautiously, after hearing our argument. Her eight-year-old frame is small, likely due to our life of malnourishment, but her height dwarfs my six-year-old stature in comparison.
"Daddy, she can't help being sick. Please, let me-" She is cut off by father grabbing her throat and slamming her into the wall. I yelp at the loud crash but silence myself when he drops her and stalks towards me. She tries to get up to place herself in front of me but is still struggling to regain her breath.
He pulls his foot back to deliver a harsh kick, right to my face when-
That same yelling voice breaks me out of my thoughts.
"Elaina Marie Isealsdaughter, get in here now! I need to be in town soon so hurry up!" I rush into the room and kneel after handing him the bag filled with ten gold crowns.
"Good. I expect more from you though, you dirty slut. No whips today, but I swear more tomorrow child or you shall be punished."
I sigh as soon as he stalks out the door, the putrid smell of whatever he had thrown up onto himself in a drunken stupor wafting into my nose as he passes. I look up to see a familiar face in the distance in the woods behind our home. A smile tears across my face as my friend waves at me, returning the look. I run out after father and watch as he and Nelson, his grey horse disappear. I walk to the stalls and tack up my black and white stallion Tarpin.
"Nina, why were you in such a hurry to go?" I jump and yelp lightly but sigh and catch my breath realizing it was just the familiar blonde I saw from the window jogging towards me.
"Hey, you okay? You seem anxious." Eragon takes a step towards me and tries to see past my knee-length curtain of thick brown hair. One of his hands brush it behind my shoulder, then comes to rest atop it, thumb grazing my protruding collar bone.
"I'm fine," I whisper then get on my horse and take off. I don't look back to watch him collect his horse from the post outside. Shaking he feeling of apprehension, I settle another smile on my face and ward off my daily worries. Our horses breathing and the rustle of the leaves in the autumn wind is the loudest of sounds as we guide our steeds up the rocky ground, incline growing steeper and the forest denser. We meet up in our usual hunting spot up the mountain in the Spine before he hands me a spare bow of his.
"Tell your uncle I said thanks for the extra cash today it really helped." He nods as he points out a fresh set of deer tracks to me. We make eye contact and I leave Tarpin tied to the branch of a tree. I see the little x's we put in the trees to find our way back on previous trips. We make it to a clearing and split up to flank the herd of twelve or so deer. The herd as a whole seems a little spooked, and I notice the sounds of the forest have come to an almost complete halt. The hairs on the back of my neck raise as an eerie feeling settles over me and I glance around the clearing for the source.
Ignoring it, I nod across the clearing, pull my string back and aim while Eragon does the same. We release right as a resounding boom fills the clearing. My mind is dazed when I am blown back a bit and my shoulder smacks roughly into a low hanging branch. I get up, looking for Eragon in the haze, jumping when I see him kneeling in the middle. My eyes widen as I see, upon my approach, that a large blue stone is sitting in the center of a patch of burned grass. The deer forgotten, we look at each other in shock.
"What is it?" I ask cautiously, nudging it with the toe of my boot. Eragon scowls slightly and runs a finger along the white spidery veins in the smooth surface.
"More importantly, how did it get here? It just... appeared," Eragon says, pointing out the obvious. I sit back on my heels and think for a few minutes, and realize what might have happened. My heart pounds a little harder at the thought, and I open my mouth to speak in a hushed tone.
"Do you remember the stories you told me when we were children about magicians?" He nods. "What if it was teleported here to us? It has to have come from somewhere," I say, eyeing his face closely for a reaction. His eyebrows raise a bit and he picks the object up off the ground.
"Well, I'm not going to just leave it here. It has to be here for a reason. Do you want to take it home?" he asks, fixing the egg into the pack he was carrying on his back.
"No, take it for all the extra pay your uncle has given me over the years." He remains persistent, trying to convince me to take it home, but I stand firm in my answer.
We move back through the trees, our hunt unsuccessful. We chat along the way, feet nimble from years of practice roaming these same paths. At some point conversation stops and my back aches from the whipping I received yesterday.
Suddenly, I trip, foot caught under a root and fall forward, my forehead connecting with a sharp rock on the ground. I struggle to lift my head again, twisting but I can feel warm blood oozing not only from my head wound but from the stripes of welts on my back that had smarted when I twisted, trying to catch myself. Red floods my left eye and I can hear Eragon's concerned voice, but it sounds far away and fading as my world disappears into the blackness.
