The screaming woke me. It was a familiar scream, but it was filled with terror. And the voices, the angry loud voices barking threats and orders. My room was in the middle of the tower Sorcera, the single window open to the forest. Leaping out of bed, I ran for the door, pulling it open and emerging in the narrow hall way bursting with elves. Some were familiar faces- Head of Sorcera, friends, relatives; others were strangers. Their flame red armor broke the continuity of the iridescent surroundings as they pounded on doors, demanding that everyone go to the lyceum immediately.
I was rushed off in the opposite direction. We made it halfway down the next hall before we were stopped by another group of the strange warriors. Their shouts were muffled by the robes of the elf in front of me. She was challenging them, her hand extended toward them threateningly. They shouted at her, telling her to give me to them. There was a flash and one of the invaders dropped to the floor clutching his eyes. One of the others growled and lunged forward, gold blade glinting in the moonlight and I felt the jolt of the impact through the robes I was holding on to. The elf woman fell to her knees, then to her side and reached for my hand. I grabbed it like a lifeline and felt the magic in her touch. My eyes widened as the tingling sensation rushed from her hand to mine, filling me up, swelling my own magic and lending me strength.
I did feel stronger, but I wasn't strong enough to break the grip of the two remaining Blood Elves. They grabbed me up, one on each arm, and dragged me sobbing to the ground floor with the others of my people. We were scared, and I was starting to feel trapped. I was used to space, not to this many people packed into the smaller lyceum. I closed my eyes, telling myself to breath and calm down.
Then I heard it. The scream that shattered my heart.
Astrid jerked awake, gasping for breath. Alyss had gone to sleep and the fire was now little more than dying embers, allowing a pre-dawn chill to settle around the room. A shiver shot up her spine as the scream echoed in her ears.
If you live for so long, you will see many things. Most will be forgotten, but some will be so strong, they never fade. "They stay with you forever," she whispered softly into the semi-darkness.
Later that morning, Alyss woke alone in her room. She was usually awake before breakfast was brought to her door, but today the tray was waiting for her on the table in the corner of the room. The delicious scents of bacon and coffee filled the air making her mouth water. The fruit was missing though, and looking around she could see none of Astrid's things, nor the elf herself. The sun had just cleared the horizon, so Alyss assumed the elfmaid had already gone down to the cabin. Unfortunately, she had no way of knowing what Astrid was really up to. . .
The grass tickled Astrid's stomach as she glided forward on whispering paws. It felt so good to stretch in this form again; it had been three days since she had morphed into her animal. Pricking her ears, she could just pick up whispers of conversation from the small cabin a few meters in front of her.
A few steps closer… the voices abruptly sharpened and she could hear every word. The Ranger, Gilan, was speaking now, about her and her people. The skeptical response came from a new voice. Quieter and older than Gilan, this was the person that could get her to the king.
Astrid crept even closer, trying to catch a scent from inside. She was almost directly under the window and all she could smell was the damned coffee, it was masking any other scents that might be coming from the cabin. A low growl emanated from her throat out of pure annoyance. On the journey here, the only thing Gilan had made to drink every time they stopped had been coffee. She couldn't understand it. It was a bitter, dark, fetid drink and did nothing for the health of the drinker. All movement and sound had ceased in the house. Shit… she thought, they heard me. Astrid began silently back the way she had come, behind the little house and into the woods.
Pain blossomed behind her right shoulder before she reached the tree line. The force of the arrow swayed her against the cabin and she let out a piercingly loud screech as she turned to look for the shooter. She was momentarily reminded of the woman who had tried to protect her from the invading Blood Elves, the jolt when the sword entered her flesh.
Scanning the trees with her sharp eyes she caught the flick of another arrow whistling through the foliage. It grazed her tail when she flinched to avoid it and she screeched again. By now Gilan and the other man had run outside. Gilan shouted something at the bushes about fifty meters away and a figure detached itself from the greenery, another arrow nocked but not drawn. His cowl was pulled down, throwing his face into shadow, and his scent was masked by the smell of coffee still pouring from the cabin; there was no way to determine who this stranger was.
Astrid pulled her tail into her side and tried putting her paw down flat. She was rewarded by more shooting pain when her leg pushed on the arrow imbedded in her side. Growling, she tried to shrink back into the shadows, but it was hard to do with red staining her black and white fur.
There was more yelling from Gilan and the man in the bushes while the other man near Gilan stood and shook his head silently. Astrid was able to hobble until she was almost concealed by the brush. She wedged herself firmly against the trunk of a tree in a cluster of young ivy and buried her teeth in her left foreleg, dreading what she had to do.
The onset of the change was the least painful part. She knew she had to hurry, it would be less painful, she hoped, and less embarrassing. She was wrong. As her torso was shortening, fire ripped through her chest. Her body convulsed, each spasm sending waves of agony to every inch of her lithe body. Teeth punctured flesh and she cried out, tears streaming unchecked from her tightly closed eyes. Her arms shortened and grew slimmer, her legs longer and her head and face lost their feline features. The last thing to go was the tail; it shrunk up into her back, the gash from the arrow opening up at the top of her tailbone. Astrid shrieked again as her bones set into place, that was normal, but it just added to the pain.
The entire process took close to two minutes, plenty of time for the three Rangers to gather round and watch her writhe in agony. When she finished, Astrid could only lie on the ground gasping for breath, whimpering in pain every time her chest moved. She clutched at the arrow, but couldn't get to a straight enough angle to pull the broad head out.
She gave up and just slumped against the cool ivy leaves. A firm hand was placed on Astrid's side, positioned so the arrow was in the gap between the thumb and index finger. She felt when the arrow was gripped, but she wasn't expecting the tug to come so soon. Flesh tore and a sharp gasp escaped her lips. Blood started to flow, tickling her as it trickled down her back, soaking her tunic and staining it scarlet. Then there was pressure as whoever it was tried to staunch the bleeding.
Again the image of the impaled elfin woman appeared before her eyes. From there, she faded into crimson oblivion, dimly aware of deep voices floating in the air around her.