Nine hundred and sixty-one years ago…

A pair of shadows danced in the gardens of Estrilere*, deep within the Great Forest.  Occasionally one of the shadows would detach itself from the murky dark beneath the trees, only to be engulfed again a few moments later.  Guttering lamplight cast an irregular beat for the dance, and the shadows circled round and round in this strange ritual.  Twilight had fallen when they halted at last, and the sources of the shadows were locked in embrace.

“Give….in!  I won this time!”

“Hah!  The Old Elm will lay on the ground before I give in to you!”

Merasiel found herself staring at the canopy of trees above as her legs were swept out from beneath her.  Her breath blew out in a huff as she landed square on her back.  She coughed and spluttered.  She fought the urge to punch the face that suddenly appeared before her eyes, brows knitted together in concern.

“Mera, are you alright?”

“Yes…” she croaked back to him, “…no thanks to you!” With the newfound advantage of surprise, she knotted her hands in her companion’s tunic and arched her back, rolling him over to the side.  He stared at her in surprise as he felt cold metal resting against his neck.  “Did you really think that after all this time you could throw me like that and I wouldn’t be able to land properly?  Hmmm?”

He began to shift and she tightened her grip.  “Ah-ah-ahhhhh.  Say.  It.”

“Fine!  Fine.  You win.”

“Again.”   Merasiel grinned widely, released her grip and stood quickly before he could retaliate further.  She lowered a hand to her companion once her dagger had been sheathed and pulled him off the ground and into an embrace.  They held each other quietly for a long while.

It was Merasiel who broke the silence.  Her voice was muffled in the fabric of her companion’s tunic.  “I will miss you, Bela.  While I’m away.”

Belaguin leaned back, gripping her shoulders with his hands, his expression betraying his disbelief.  “What?”

“You heard me.”

“It’s not often you say things like that.  Are you worried about this journey?”

“Of course not.  I really will miss you.”

Belaguin folded her in his arms once more.  “I wish I knew what the elders were thinking.  They’re sending only five others with you and-”

Merasiel interrupted him, pressing a finger to his lips, “Stop.  The visions were clear.  Those five, Mendelel, Gabrielthorn….even Mags must travel to Mortuturesihad.  No more than that and no less.  The elders won’t say why.”

Belaguin frowned and muttered, “They’re sending that fool Mags with you instead of me.  I’m insulted.”

Merasiel arched an eyebrow and continued, “And, when I return, I will not be sent on any missions for a while.  So I’ll have that much more time to show you how to properly fight.”

He ignored the jab.  “Oh?  How long will you be here?”

“I don’t know for sure.  The elders said that when my task is complete, I won’t be going anywhere for a while.”

“Hm, that’s an odd way of putting it.”

“When have the elders ever had a way of putting things that wasn’t odd?”

“True,”  Bela kissed her gently on the forehead.  “For what it’s worth, my little fawn, I will miss you too.”

Merasiel smiled at him.  “Bela?”

“Hm?”

“If you continue calling me ‘Little Fawn’, I am going to have to gut you.”

The pair tarried in the gardens long into the night, talking and making plans as those in love tend to do.  The following morning dawned grey and bleak, and the six companions gathered together to receive the blessing of the elders, say their farewells and depart.  All of their words had been spoken the night before, and Merasiel shared only a brief touch of fingertips with Belaguin.  She looked back once as they rode into the forest, but her last view of Bela and home was marred by the trees.

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* Estrelere is completely made up by yours truly.  Approximate location is in the Great Forest close to the southern end of the mountain range that runs through the center of the forest.