Sixty… sixty?! WHAT?!

(note: Eilra is pronounced Eel-ruh)

Guest: Thank you, and thank you. I hope you won't be disappointed. :)

Joseph: Good way to go, good way to go. :) I've actually read that one before; most of my ideas come from other places besides other fanfictions, though.

Tania was starting to immensely dislike being in a mobbed city.

First, there were the rocks skittering off the roof, assuring her that she wasn't taking a nap anytime soon.

Second, there were the rotten vegetables, giving the dragons' courtyard a stench that made her eyes water before she and a few of the dwarf servants cleared it away.

Third, there was the smoke off in the distance that was making the horses anxious.

All in all, the whole thing convinced her to shrug into the light armor she'd been given before the battle beneath Farthen Dûr, and when she went back to sit with the dragons, she held her strung bow and three arrows in her left hand. Her right rested on Ophelia's nose, which in turn rested on her lap.

Soon you'll be too big to do that, Tania observed.

All the more reason to do it now. You're a bit bony, though, the dragoness replied.

That's muscle, Ophelia.

Really? You're so tiny.

I've been living in the woods for most of my life. Do you honestly think I wouldn't have meat on these bones?

Well, no. Not really. You've been living in the woods, on your own, with no company save the wolves and would-be food that refuses to let itself be caught and killed very easily. I'm actually surprised you're here, to be honest. And I'm extremely thankful for whatever lucky charm you must possess that allowed you to live this long so that you could find me.

A little taken aback by Ophelia's philosophy, Tania rubbed her snout gently, thinking. An interesting way to look at it.

I'm an interesting creature.

There's no debate on that.

Many miles north…

The woman quietly cursed Islandzadí. The elf queen had had good intentions, she was sure, but Cora hadn't even received a letter from her daughter for the past ten years. The queen kept her busy, doing this and that, and after Arya had become an ambassador against her mother's wishes, Cora was doing even more. However, upon receiving news of Arya's capture, the queen had shut the forest off to all and sundry—leaving Cora a window of time to ride north and west to find out what was going on with her family.

Eilra, the elven horse who'd volunteered to carry Cora to her daughter's village, whickered softly, looking back at her rider, sensing her worry. Cora sighed softly and patted her snowy neck. "Easy, my friend," she said. "I am well."

The pure-white mare dipped her head in acknowledgement, turning back to carefully pick her way over the rocky trail that ran along a narrow ridge. They were about halfway up the mountain, high enough that the trees were a little more spread apart, allowing Cora to see down into the valley below. Great golden eagles wheeled just above her eye level, languid, without a single care in the world.

They'd been traveling for close to a month. Cora had been planning to stay in her daughter's village for a few days, but she knew Islandzadí would want her back as soon as possible—and with the amount of time it was taking, she now planned to bring Eve and her two children back to Ellesméra, where she could keep an eye on them as well as get to know them.

The day dragged on, the sun slipping from its lofty noon's peak to the western horizon. Finally, close to sunset, Eilra pricked her ears and whinnied softly. Cora, who'd nearly fallen asleep, dreaming about days long gone, started awake. Making sure she had her rider's attention, the mare pointed her snout down into the valley, where a soft orange glow could be seen illuminating a cluster of buildings surrounded by fields of crops and livestock.

"We're finally here," Cora breathed softly, suddenly excited. "Let us fly, Eilra!" she cried joyously. Catching on to her rider's contagious anticipation, the mare whinnied once more and sprung forward, muscles rippling beneath her milky-white coat, long legs carrying them both with ease.

They reached the village as the sun dipped down below the horizon and the first stars made their appearance in the sky. Eilra slowed to an elegant trot, prancing down the road as though she carried the queen of the world.

A small group of townsfolk had gathered to watch this mysterious new visitor enter their village. Among them was a man who seemed to be an Elder, his robes dyed red and black and far more formal than anything the other villagers wore. He was bald, and his eyes were so black they were dark orbs. He held a staff, the head carved to resemble a hissing snake, its eyes embedded with blood-red jasper.

He stared Cora down as she dismounted, gaze flicking over the crowd, searching for the familiar flash of black hair. "Begging your pardon, kind folk," she said, "but does a woman by the name of Eve live here?"

A few of the villagers—the older ones, she noticed—hissed in displeasure. The Elder's eyes hardened. "The witch and her spawn have no place here," he rumbled. "Who are you that seeks the devil's wife?"

Cora glared and said sharply, "Her mother."

There was an uncomfortable silence as many of the villagers shifted and gave each other confused glances. The Elder straightened, eyes becoming suspicious. "Really. Then did you know that your daughter practiced devilcraft and evil rituals? After she placed a curse on our crops, the village went hungry for months."

"And how did you repay this supposed curse?" Cora asked, her voice hard.

"She lies in an unmarked grave in the hills to the north."

"And her children?"

"Her daughter fled to the woods, fleeing judgement from our God, Gazilar, and is surely dead by now. Her son was deemed innocent of the poisonous madness, and works the fields with a family who raises him as their own."

"And it was your Gazilar who deemed my daughter an unholy wretch?" she asked coldly.

"It was Gazilar who repayed her lack of devotion and use of devilry with the deserved retribution," he corrected smoothly. "He revealed her for what she is, and then He struck her down, so that she could no longer terrorize His devout followers."

Cora glowered at him, burning hatred struggling to reveal itself and turn this village into a crater. "And her son?" she asked, a cold mask slipping over her features. "Would you bereft an old woman of her chance to meet her grandson?"

Mutters rippled through the villagers, and the Elder dipped his head. "Very well. Valentin? Come forward, please."

A heartbeat passed. Slowly, a young man, perhaps thirteen or fourteen, stepped out of the crowd, his eyes—green as spring grass—flicking nervously between Cora and the Elder. His hair was gold, but he had his mother's eyes, and her slender build. Looking uncertain as to whether he should do it or not, he bowed slightly. Cora beckoned him forward, a kind smile gracing her features.

"Is she really my grandmother?" Valentin asked. His voice was soft, almost musical.

"I believe I am, young man," Cora said before the Elder could say anything. "You have her eyes—your grandfather's eyes."

He gazed at her in wonder. Then, "Can you take me with you? Back to where you came from?"

"Absolutely not!" the Elder exclaimed.

"If the boy wants to come, he can come," Cora said sharply. "I am his grandmother, after all—the last of his real family. Besides, if he is truly the son of a witch, you should be glad of an easy way to get rid of him."

"I want to come," Valentin said firmly.

Cora smiled. "There you go. How much time will you need to gather your belongings?"

The boy shrugged. "I have nothing important. Can we leave now?"

Her smile grew even wider. "Why, yes. Yes we can."

And so she lifted him onto Eilra's back and pulled herself up behind him, the mare turning and streaking away like a bolt of silvery lightning, leaving the flabbergasted villagers and their furious Elder behind.

Heh. Heh. Heh.

I've waited a long time to introduce that batch.

I'm excited now.

Please review!

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