Darius

Chapter One

A young woman of two and twenty was sprawled out in a grassy clearing East of England. Her golden hair cascaded down her back and some strands drifted through the rapid breeze. Every once in a while a stray curl would catch itself in little beads of sweat that gathered on the nape of her neck.

The woman leaned back into the soft earth around her and let out a faint laugh which was swiftly carried away by the breeze. Her eyelids closed around her dark green eyes as the Sun's warm rays made her feel tired. Her tanned skin began to crawl with the little bugs that danced around on her arms and legs.

Out of the corner of the clearing came a soft rolling sound, almost like thunder. The woman sat up to observe the corner as the thunder grew. She stood and squinted her eyes to get a better look, when out darted a dozen wild horses.

The young woman squealed and began running in the opposite direction, her arms spread wide as if she was trying to fly away. The mares advanced on her quickly and parted around her as they ran up beside her. The woman's worn dress flew around her as her bare feet attempted to outrun the trained toes of free horses. Obviously the loser, the young woman held back on her pace. The horses passed and she kept running, panting, and eventually she tripped. She tumbled into a bed of moss and mud, and she began to roll around like a pig on a warm day, squealing like one too. The moss that matched the color of her eyes homed itself in her hair and on her face. She brushed it away with a careless sweep and jumped up to dance around in the clearing once again.

All the while, a young man of six and twenty watched her gallivanting, prepared to jump in at the first sight of harm. His dark hair was slicked back, a single strand falling in front of his dark brown eyes. His jacket kept his shoulders back and up, and made his chest protrude out proudly. His collar was tight around his neck, keeping his chin lifted into the air.

"Sir," the man's footman called out, "we'd better get going, for it looks like rain."

The young man tore his eyes away from the unladylike woman and took the reigns of a cream-colored horse. Climbing aboard, he whistled and off they rode towards the castle in the distance.

The young woman heard the whistle and froze in her place, her arms still held out to the wind. Turning in circles slowly, she glanced around the clearing looking for the whistle's source. Finally deciding it must have been the breeze, she continued on her dancing until rain droplets began to splash across her face. Her bare toes squished in the mud and the hem of her dress became ruined. She ran towards her little hut right outside of the clearing and made it inside right before the downpour.

The young man wasn't quite so lucky. He rode at top speed through the forest road that connected the woman's clearing to his castle, but he could not outrun mother nature. She blasted down her full anguish on the spoiled man, and ruined every article of clothing he had on. It was only a little annoyance to him though, he'd just go into the city and buy another.