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My name is Anya Moonbeam. I've always hated my last name, the solitude, and my ability. I was cast out at a young age, thrown from my home. I was called a witch and they chased me. I ran for it, and over the years, I learned how to survive in the forest alone. I made a bow, created arrows, and taught myself how to hunt. Being a Wood Elf helped, but it could only help so much. It was my one hundred and thirty first birthday, when I heard them.
There were two voices, arguing in a languages I had not known at the time. They found me, arrows in my hands like daggers, and they laughed. They took me in and taught me their language. They were dwarves, and I an elf. Supposed to be enemies, we became best friends. They brought me to their kingdom and convinces their rulers the keep me safe.
Now, on my two hundred and twelfth birthday, the life I've built up, crumbles into a pile at my feet...
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Memories
FantasyMy name is Anya Moonbeam. I've always hated my last name, the solitude, and my ability. I was cast out at a young age, thrown from my home. I was called a witch and they chased me. I ran for it, and over the years, I learned how to survive in the fo...
