There was a time in my life when I'd been very much alone. An outcast perhaps, but not with some piteous story of not belonging or having no friends or of being fearsome and disgusting. I just was. Perhaps because I didn't recognize the aching that pulled me forward, didn't know what it was, what to call it, that it was there at all.

Like…Not knowing the reason for not knowing what the problem was with a situation you felt was off but didn't know why. It made my head hurt to think about, so I didn't, but the nagging feeling was always there.

I was lonely, I suppose. Tired of being by myself, perhaps. Sick with this isolation, I'd guess.

Why though…Well…maybe because…

Because…


A powerful, misty wind kicked up spray as it blasted over the rocky red coasts, showering the somehow achingly dry land for a moment before the droplets evaporated. The wind paid this no mind, continuing on its way over a scorched prairie, flattening the long yellow grasses and slipping over yet more hills, these higher, mountains of varying size. It blew past machines and fallen trees with ease, coasting into a forest hazy with dappled shade and old magic. Twisting northward, the wind gusted into a stretch of pale forest and gray coastline, a stretch that could be considered rather lengthy by some standards but was a mere passing to the untamable air. Quickly, the wind was gone, now ghosting over a flat expanse of clear sea, stirring up what fog lingered, yet to be burned away by the first rays of pale morning light. Eventually, the wind reached one of its more worthy foes, a structure it had never been able to topple. As if with indignation, the wind hit the trunk of the great tree rather abruptly, sharply breezing up and over, into the strange, magical, eternal-though tainted-forest. The wind wound its way over a city-a great city, to its visitors, but again, nothing to the wind-and around ancient sentinel trees, buffeting those it passed as it pleased, taking no notice. By the time the wind reached the shadowy glen that so many called a "beginning", that once fierce gale was little more than a cool, light, life-scented breeze that had so many layers in it that it had become impossible to identify each. That breeze lilted through the shady woods, at some point tousling the bright turquoise bangs of one particular woman, tugging gently at her ponytail, caressing her cool, inky blue skin.

A slight smile played on that woman's-that Night Elf's lips as she watched the spirited zephyr dance about her home, scrunching up the two blue slashes over either softly glowing eye in a comical way.


I let a small smile curve my lips as I watched the gentle breeze twist and turn through Shadowglen, loving that feel of it brushing my skin and ruffling my hair. My nose twitched when a small leaf ferried on that very air current tickled it. I sneezed once, resisting the urge to chuckle; the little act made me so happy.

An amused sigh from my left, followed by a clicked tongue and the soft swishing of robes signaled Mother's approach. I turned my smile on her, bowing briefly before allowing my eyes to roam over her familiar figure, assessing her condition, as I often times did when she returned from Temple.

Conivera Felwhisper was a lovely woman. Her high cheekbones were heightened by the green cranes descending from either eye, contrasting in an interesting way against her pinkish skin. Her dark jade hair, falling past her shoulders in twin tails, accented her face, and her plum lips curved slightly in an ever-present serene expression. Today she was dressed in pale, white woolen robes with long sleeves and a dipping neckline, plus a thin, brown ribbon belt; comely, neat attire.

My mother was still young by our standards, in her late sixties, but a distinct gleam of wisdom was in her eyes, one that most gained from experience that she held from faith. I found it was that way with many if not all Priests. Perhaps some connection to Elune, to the Light, gave them a certain aged quality, a knowing presence. That did not disqualify them from foolishness, stubbornness, or ignorance however. I knew that all too well.

"Daughter." Mother murmured. It seemed like she always murmured.

"Mother."

"I'm home."

"Indeed you are." My words are toneless. She grimaced slightly.

"Do no be like this Abheida. I missed you. Can not you say the same for me?" I grit my teeth—damn name.

"I cannot say I missed that name, nor your attempts to persuade me."

"Your name is your name Abheida. And your duty is your duty. Stop trying to runaway. Let us have a peaceful reunion." Her tone was still serene, but her eyes had tightened, and it wouldn't be soon before that gentle face broke like it always did when we argued.

"I am not running. Just because I'm a Priestess's daughter does not mean I will be a Priestess! You want to keep me locked up in the Temple of the Moon, away from the wild and away from battle, because you think I can't fight, that I'll die like Father did! We have this argument every time you come home, and it hasn't changed a Light-cursed word! And for the last damned time, do not call me that!" I fumed silently, waiting for that same old response.

"You'll understand one day Abheida. But Daughter, that day is not today."* Her face was stony, her voice haughtily cold. I bared my teeth at her. Her brow furrowed, and she frowned.

Then she turned and walked into the house, like always.

A few hours later, I came inside from training, and we ate together. Then Mother unbound my hair, brushed it out, and after a prayer to Elune, went to bed. I tied my hair back again, took up my bow and dagger, went outside, and settled down up in the boughs of my favorite tree, letting my eyes slide closed and holding my bow loosely across my chest.

Like always.

The earlier breeze, now more like a puff of air, was heavy with night-scents and dew.

That breeze was different at least. Not that the wind never blew, but something else, a shifting, like something was about to change permanently, could be felt in my gut. My final waking thought was spent idly pondering that difference, why it was a difference at all.

The scar on my right hand pricked.


I woke before dawn, stretching like a cat and slipping off my perch, falling the few feet to land in a crouch. I straightened up and jogged to the house, in search of breakfast.

I don't particularly enjoy eating with my mother, so whenever she's home, I get my food and go walking. Its not that I hate her that much. It just… There's always that quiet stare that pretty much screams 'I raised you better than this'. Which is a lie. Mom spent more time at The Temple with her fellow Priests than she did with me, and I found the world around me to be the best of companions.

I don't blame her for that, and I don't hate, or even dislike, her for it. She's my mother, and I love her, but we're not the same people. She just doesn't know me. I guess I don't know her either.

I blinked, trying to focus on my search for meat. If there was one thing about my mother that irritated me to no end, it was her vegetarian habits. Not that she was one, but that she tried to force me into being one. Every single time she comes home, she takes all the meat, all the damned meat, and hides it. Doesn't throw it out—that'd be wasteful. Sets it out. For the animals.

Too bad for her I counted myself as one of them.

I followed my nose to the ponds west of the house, and found my precious meet lain out on a piece of linen, most, but not all of it eaten or gnawed on. I growled lightly, snatching up what was left and leaving the gnawed morsels for the scavengers. Glancing around, I proceeded to eat it. Raw, of course. It was the best way to eat meat. Or at least, my favorite way. Although, most animals would probably prefer freshly killed, if not live, but I hadn't tried that yet. I didn't think I ever would for that matter, unless I were truly starving.

Content to simply sit in one of the shorter trees with pale trunks and maroon leaves as I ate, I watched the sky brighten, the sunrise. The birds and the beasts had all woken long ago. Mom would be waking soon, for that matter.

Stuffing the last strip of boar flank into my mouth, I hopped down and darted back into the house. It wasn't hard to find a small wooden bowl, berries, and some sheep's milk. Needless to say, I tossed it all together and set it in front of mom's place at the table along with some fresh bread. A slight creak from her bed sent me bounding through the doorway and into the open forest I so loved.

I wandered through the dusky grounds of Shadowglen that were so familiar to me, feeling nostalgic, remembering various jobs done and incidents that had occurred as one thing or another called them to memory.

There, in Shadowthread cave, where I'd gone to fetch one of the Webwood Spider Eggs, and the resident spiders I'd killed in search of a special Ichor to cure Ivron. Or Shadowglen's moonwell, from which I'd drawn samples. The Thistle Boars and Nightsabers-with much regret, I'd had to thin out their population a bit. The building were most of Shadowglen's inhabitants served, including Ayanna Everstride, the Hunter Trainer, under whom I'd spent a few years. The cobbled path that led out of Shadowglen, out of the only home I'd ever known, that Mother took so very often.

That spot only I seemed to know had any significance…That clearing northwest of where Fizzlecog had set up his camp…That place…Those Nightsabers. That spotted one. Him.

My body moved without my consent, taking me to that special place. I kneeled down, unconsciously cradling my right hand, scratching lightly at the scarring there. Bite marks. Teeth marks. Two of them further apart, and much larger than the others, though all were somewhat small.

Mom had scolded me for not cleaning the wound, bandaging it sooner; she was even more irate when I wouldn't tell her a thing. Fizzlecog's body wasn't found, and neither was any trace of his camp, bloodstains, or scorch marks. Since I'd cleaned all that up.

Fizzlecog I buried at the eastern edge of our little glen; as far from the Grell camps or and Grellkin as possible. The blood and char…I got lucky; it rained that very night, and all was washed away. I sold what was salvageable from the scattered belongings and burned what was left of the tent with a prayer for the Gnome.

…That'd been eleven years ago. Sometimes, I dread grips my heart, and I wonder…

A hand fell on my shoulder.

Snarling, I grabbed the offending arm, and, swinging in a half circle, I heaved, sending my mystery attacker flying before I leapt backwards, already starting to panic.

I didn't have my bow, or my sword, not even a dagger. Nothing. I had nothing. I needed something, anything, to defend myself with. I needed to stop panicking! I have to focus! I could fight hand-to-hand.

My mind finally registered that my madly flickering eyes were staring at my mother.

…Well hell. I'd freaking thrown Mom.

Mom.

Aforementioned parent groaned, standing up slowly and rubbing her left shoulder delicately, a faint grimace of pain darkening her face. Dammit.

"By the Light of Elune! Mother! Oh I'm so sorry!" My voice was about two octaves higher, and the pleading tone made this seem like days long gone. I was at her side in three strides, my hands fluttering frantically around her. She sighed.

"Calm down Abheida. It's only a bruise. I apologize for startling you-I recognized that lost-in-thought look but I didn't really think it'd be a problem." Another sigh, and then she smiled. "I came to thank you for breakfast…and to talk."

That brought all thought and emotion to a halt. Briefly.

"…What is there to talk about, Mom?" My words were tired sounding. She crumpled a bit, sighing again and sitting in her place. I sat next to her.

"You know…I…" She trailed off when the sun finally broke over the treetops, bathing us in warm light that starkly contrasted with the cool air. The sight captured both our gazes, and we didn't look at each other as she spoke again. "I can't seem to stop myself from worrying, I suppose. I love you very much Abheida, and I don't want to lose you like I did your father; you've always been right about that much."

My eyes widened but I refused to let them leave the skyline.

"But believe me when I say that I know how strong you are, Daughter. Not only in body, but also in heart. You have so much potential. Truly, that heart of yours is your greatest asset, your supreme strength. And yours Abheida, is special still. I cannot say how—only you know that—but it is…And believe me when I say you'll understand one day. People are going to come into your life, people that, at some point, you won't be able to live without. And when you lose one of them, then you will know. Know this terrible desire to never see that again, never let your world be damaged again. That is how I feel about you, my dearest…"

"Mother…" Is all I can say. Her hands gently clasp either side of my face, turning me to look at her, thumbs rubbing soothing circles on my temples.

"And yet, I have to let you go. I see, just a little, how important it is to you that you be free. So, I'll free you. You are no longer bound to me, Hunter. Take your leave of this place and this heart and carve a path for yourself through this war-torn world. Take up your bow and be freed." She was weeping silently by the end, her calm voice cracking. I too wept, as I swept her into my arms.

"This Hunter is freed of you and your hear then, Priestess. She is free of her bonds, and will now go forth to carve herself her own path." The tears won't stop. Mom nods against my shoulder.

We stayed like that for a very long time, simply embracing, coming to terms with the knowledge that all those arguments had finally come to an end, that something else was beginning. The sun was nearly overhead when we finally pulled apart. Eyes had dried a time ago.

"Stay with me one more night Daughter, and come morn, you may go and never look back. But just for this day, use your freedom to hear this woman's plea."

"Of course I'll stay Mother. For on more night, I choose to be yours." Our tender smiles were mirror images.


We went back to the house and had lunch, then went walking, visiting all the places there were to visit, talking the whole time about nothing and everything. We stopped by that lodge and talked with Ayanna one more time. Mom bought me a pack and some basic leather armor to wear when I set out. When we got home, we packed my two bags and set them aside. Then we made dinner together; it was fish and vegetables, along with the last of the fresh bread. After eating, Mom requested I demonstrate with my bow for her; she applauded me. Dusk came and went. In the night, we shared a bed, much like we did when I was a child and clung to my mother for warmth and comfort. Mom brushed my hair and told me old legends as I fell asleep. The last thing I heard was her whispering something to me.

And when I awoke the next morning, she was already gone.

I took my bags, strapped on my sword and bow, and left.

By the time the sun rose, I was gone from Shadowglen, from my home, from my Mother. And as of now, I was even shedding my name.

Dawn had already come; it was a new day.