The One Crusaders

Prologue

The girl burst out into the night terrified of the woman in the house, drunk, chasing her. She stumbled out into the cold heartless winter of Faramore, with bloodberry bushes tearing at her skirt. How far will she chase me this time? She wondered. Until she succumbs to the fire inside her? This was not the first time the girl had run. She knew exactly where she was going to go, and how long it would take. She also knew how far the average distance her mother chased her, but it was different depending on how drunk she was. But she did not think of one thing the woman might do between drunken fits. Prepare.

How was she to know that her mother had made small discreet signs for what to do if she ran. And that she so firmly implanted what to do in her brain, that even after drinking 6 full flagons of Helle's drink she would know what to do to find her. The Varons dogs were bought off of a trader passing through the countryside some weeks before. The woman trained them to find a person clothes, a single person's. The girl. She knew they would not fail. In her drunken state she smiled. If they don't find her, she will still come back. She always does.

Except this time. The woman was not the only one to prepare. The girl had packed enough food to last her a month if she rationed it. Enough to get to a town. Enough to find work this time. Enough to not come back.

The girl, even only being thirteen, knew that the house was a better place than some. That's why she kept going back. She would leave during her mother's rages, but return, not out of love, but of hunger. "If only i could leave for good," she thought aloud. "Maybe this time i can find work,"

If only that were true. In this time when it was hard for grown men to find work, who would hire an undersized girl? She pushed those thoughts out of her mind, then froze in fear as a howl split the air, coming from the direction of the manor. The dogs were on the hunt.