The Matriarch's Daughter

Chapter One: Musings

Rory.

No, Thepa thought. That's not quite right.

She took the quill's tip, crossed out the words on the vanilla stationery, and tried again.

Dearest Sister.

It was better, but still off. With a third attempt, Thepa decided to go for whimsy, not even hiding her cheek.

To the Pretty, Pretty Princess, the High Priestess of Chandeidra.

There it is. Thepa thought.

Smiling, she sat back in her chair, allowing the sun's light to cascade over her brown hair, rippling around her dark, stubby horns. She found the warmth of the rays soothing, choosing to dwell in the moment. She closed her blue eyes, stretching her legs as far as the desk, allowing the stiffness to shake out her hooves. When the moment had passed, she sat back up in her chair and continued to write.

Things are going well in the capital.

That much was true. For someone who spent most of her life growing up in the halfling city of Wildehaven, things had been going surprisingly well for Thepa, albeit a little strange.

Originally, Thepa had expected more resistance regarding her leadership as Captain of the Goldale Guard. Differences had an obvious way of making themselves known. Still, each of her soldiers received her as if she were an elf. To most of them, it didn't matter that she was a Youngling of the Mountains. It didn't matter that she was the only female satyr in their ranks. She was given respect at the highest order, even though she felt she had never truly earned it.

Still, everything was strange. It had been a full completion since Thepa became Captain of the Guard and, despite the graciousness of her elven host, she often felt out of sorts. So far, she hadn't found anything in common between the capital city of Goldale and the town of her younglinghood. Even the sea, which she knew was geographically the same sea, smelled different from the fresh, salt spray of home.

She continued to write.

It's certainly not Wildehaven. There are so few trees here. And the Saintians! For the first time, I don't feel like a giant. Actually, quite the opposite. Well, you would know that, being an elf yourself.

Thepa stared at her words, pondering their implication..

Hight? Really? Come on, Thepa, you can do better than that. Just... tell her the truth. Gah! Why is this so hard?

Instead, she pushed forward in her letter.

Anyway, I thought for sure I'd see another female satyr here. Sometimes, when I'm free, I go down by the docks. Occasionally, I'll see a male or two among the fishing vessels, but never a female. And before you ask, the answer is no. None of the males have caught my fancy. Not that I would have time for any of that nonsense anyway. Can you imagine me...

In love, she thought. What would that even look like?

For the second time, Thepa paused, allowing her musing to spiral. Thepa knew she hadn't come into the world alone, yet nothing remained of the male or female who had given her life. Both were gone before she had a chance to meet either one of them.

Was he strong? Was she pretty?

With her bronze complexion, well-rounded blue eyes, slender legs, cloven hooves, and wavy brown hair, Thepa was the most unique satyr she had ever seen, let alone known. Not that she had a large pool of faces to draw from. The only ones she had ever known were the male younglings she had lived with at the Wildehaven orphanage before moving into her foster home.