Under Aegonian Skies

Chapter 1: Camping

Author's note: Two perspectives will be seen throughout the novel, so at the beginning of each chapter, I will give a clear indication of which character is narrating by putting the character's name in brackets. Additionally, a dictionary of elvish terms is available at the end, and I welcome you to reference it as you read!

[Alexandra]

I slipped into the chicken coop quietly, stomach rumbling. I looked around and pulled my cloak tighter. Should I tie it? Glancing up at the back door of the house, I noted a figure moving behind a curtain. The ogre could be back at any minute. I needed to leave. A red hen stood, pecking at the fencing absently. I snuck up behind her and picked her up.

    "Hey, you!" an ogre bellowed. Chicken in hand, I flew out the coop door and made a break for it. "My hen!" My cloak started to slip off my shoulder. I knew I should have tied it. The chicken started panicking, and I was forced to choose: do I eat a proper meal for the first time in days or do I stay warm? My cloak flew off my back, and the decision was made for me. The cold immediately hit my upper body. Chill bumps rose all over my arms. I may have chosen incorrectly.

Ogres and humans alike stared as I sprinted behind the row of houses. "Human scum!" a particularly friendly dwarf yelled. My steps crunched in the thick blanket of snow.

    I ran toward the forest but collided with an elderly dwarf. "I'm so sorry, sir!" I said, pulling him back to his feet as the ogre approached. I fled, and the dwarf cursed after me. I looked back toward the ogre. Though he was gaining on me a bit, his chest was heaving. I veered right as the mass of trees seemed to come closer. Heavy footsteps continued to sound behind me, and I pushed myself harder. It will be easier to lose him in the brush, I reminded myself.

When I glanced back a minute later, he was no longer gaining but was instead staying steady behind me. I reached the treeline with relief and hopped over a fallen tree. The harder the path I take, the harder the path he must take. I swerved between two young trees, knowing it would slow him down. My breaths became more difficult, but I refused to slow. I ducked and dodged as fast as I could, and before long, I could no longer hear footsteps behind me. I finally slowed down and listened for footsteps but heard none.

As I regained my breath and my adrenaline fell, my mind allowed me to realize exactly how cold it was. A blanket of snow covered everything in sight, the sun was rapidly disappearing, and my leather shoes were wet. Exactly what I need. The hen still struggled occasionally in my arms, but I had her secure to my side. At least if I was going to freeze to death, I would do it on a full stomach.

After I killed the hen, I found a clearing near a frozen stream to spend the night. I scraped several inches of snow off the ground, stopping several times to warm my hands against my legs. The light was fading faster than I could afford, so I started looking for kindling. My emptied satchel over my shoulder, I set off into the trees in search of anything that looked remotely flammable. Most of the underbrush was covered with a thick blanket of snow, but I found a couple of small, dead trees and broke off a few limbs. I shivered from the cold but told myself to use it as motivation to find firewood. A deer appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and froze for a moment as it looked at me before bounding away, making a path through the snow. When it was gone, thick silence again hung over the wood.

I walked further and happened upon a fallen tree with some dried moss under it. Perfect. I gathered the moss and put it in my satchel. I worked my way up in size of material, all the way to logs. I ran out of room in my bag quickly, despite the numerous enchantments I had paid to have placed on it long ago, before the war caused King Wranon to levy impossible taxes on everything. I loaded my arms down with firewood and followed my trail in the snow back to my encampment, hands now numb.

    I found a small dry spot under a large pine tree to place my findings. Near the hole I dug for the fire lay all my possessions: a knife, two blankets, a canteen, and a fire-starting kit. I shivered yet again and wished for my lost cloak.

For a moment, I forgot what I was doing.

I took a deep breath, startled, and recalled that I was about to start a fire.

I got the moss and some of the dead limbs off the stack near the pine, and picking up the flint and striker, I started to attempt to start the fire. I placed the sticks on the ground I had cleared and began striking the flint over the moss. I dropped the flint a few times. Odd. My hands must be too cold. I fumbled around with it for quite a time and finally got a spark that was enough to catch the moss. I laid it on the carefully constructed pile of dead limbs I had made. I stoked the fire until it caught several logs ablaze before cleaning and roasting the hen. My hands slowly regained some feeling, but I struggled to warm my whole body with no cloak to trap the heat.

    As I ate, the fire nearly died twice, and I willed it back to life. I began to settle for the night, but my fire threatened to peter out yet again. I threw more tinder on the fire. By now, the sun was gone, leaving only the moon, stars, and my dying fire to light the night. The fire refused to take hold of the wood I was adding, and I was shaking. I gave up on the fire and pulled my two blankets from my belongings. The fire had melted some of the snow around it, leaving the ground wet. I tossed the thinner blanket onto the driest ground I could find and laid down, pulling the second blanket over me clumsily. I was still shaking, but I was getting extremely tired, so I decided to give up on the fire and go to sleep.