Woman of Sorrows-The Black-Veiled Woman

Mountain Passings

Chalandra woke with a start, continually haunted by dreams of the past. Almost every night, she dreamed of her death. It was not out of self-pity, she believed, but it had been one of the most traumatic events of her life. It was not the pain, she had endured far worse. It was the fact it had led her to be parted with Thane. Had that man not stabbed her, that sorry guard who no longer breathed, she would still be with him. She would likely be lying by Thane's side now, married. She could have lived a simple life as his loyal wife. They could not have had children, but they would have been happy. Living in the villages of men, it would have been easy for him. She was passably a woman of their people, though obviously held more beauty than most of their people. Still, with him as her protector, she would have been safe. They could have lived out their lives in such peace, such content. Yet instead, she was torn from the earth and forced to walk a trail of sorrows.

Yet she always forgot, even before she died, Thane had taken steps to allow her to become who she was meant to be. She had started to feel the effects of her true powers. In time, she would have been led down the same path. The path to restore peace. Yet even if that was where she eventually ended up, she would have had Thane by her side. To guide her, to protect her, to give her strength when she failed and faltered. He would have known better than she. He understood more, had seen more. He would have been able to become her guiding light in this dark and brutal reality she faced. But he was not there. She was being punished. She was alone, save for a slumbering young man, hardly more than a child. One who desired to learn whatever she could teach, even when she had nothing to teach, for she was even more lost than he. She did know how to fight, how to shed blood, but her knowledge ended there. Still, he relied on her, believed she would impart knowledge greater than any other upon him. She would try her best, for this child had meaning to her. He was not some sorry lad, left behind by his father. He was not some ordinary child. There was more between them. Fate seemed to have brought them together. There was a reason they had been brought together. She had to protect him, she knew that much. She would do whatever she could, she would do her best to teach him, but even more, to keep him safe from all the dangers of the world.

Tarre lay opposite the long-dead fire, still slumbering peacefully. Without a word, Chalandra stood, leaving her sleeping roll behind, still open. The sun had not yet risen, nor did the rays of light yet peak over the hilltops. The world had turned to dawn, though the sun had not yet shown its face. Instead, the sky had turned to lighter blue, instead of the inky black it became during the nighttime. In the dim, though growing, light, she could see drifting bugs, floating on the slight breeze which swept over the land.

When she stood, she felt the warm breath of her horse on the back of her neck, causing her body to shudder slightly as the warmth crawled down her spine. She smiled, then turn to pet her gentle giant's nose. Greyfer stood quietly, though bobbed his head a little as she stroked his face. From her knapsack, she grabbed only his bridle. Tossing the reins over his head, she pushed the bit into his mouth, which he accepted eagerly. Slipping the crownpeice over his ears, she fasted the throatlatch on the nosebandless bridle. Because of his height, she had to lead him beside a rock in order to climb aboard his back bareback. He stood quietly, and allowed her to position herself comfortably on his back.

With a gentle squeeze of her legs, he sprung forward into an easy trot, needing very little encouragement so early in the mornings. He was a full blooded warhorse, bred and trained to carry his master day and night if necessary. He was broad-backed, with a long, but easy and gentle stride. He was large for the Dendä horses, but no less willing, fierce, or loyal. He would do anything Chalandra bid him, she only needed to request him to. And he was strong. He had been ridden nearly the entire day yesterday, breaks few and far between, yet still woke with extraordinary energy. He now carried his ride at a brisk trot, listening carefully to her every word and cue. Though Chalandra missed her little mare, Avaleth, Greyfer was a kind and willing steed, who would do anything for her just as her mare had. He was more kind, more gentle, though. Avaleth had more fire, and would not stand for any mistreatment from any of the stablehands. Greyfer on the other hand, was quiet and would not protest if some inexperienced rider climbed aboard, at his mistress's bidding of course.