Vanimar

Eliriael bent down to pull some of the saffron flowers from her basket and arrange them neatly into the vase. She smiled, caressing the petals with a gentle touch before pouring some fresh water, taken from the streams, in with the flowers.

The pink blush of dawn began to rise across the cheeks of the dark sky as Eliriael reentered the valley. The time to blend into the shadows had passed and she placed her fingers around the rim of her hood to slowly pull her cloak away from her body. A small sigh escaped her lips, letting the fears of night pass from her and allowing the calm of the valley to fill her.

I ran through the forest, the undergrowth clawing at my brown leather riding skirt with every stride, and the odor of stagnant, rotting leaves filling my nostrils. Ready was I to draw Sarphir from the scabbard instantaneously, though to run with sword in hand would slow me in such dense woodland.

      The spring sunshine beams softly down on parched earth. Eddies of dust, whirled into motion by the light breeze, dance and scatter before my eyes. I take a slow, unsteady breath in. The movement sends fire roaring across my chest. I did not even see the spring come, and now, I will not see it bloom in these woods I have loved so well.