For those of you who have read Shadowing, this is Liri's story, as told by Liri (me)! Except it's not in first , whatever. This is my story. But before you begin, there are a few things about Elvish culture in general that need to be explained. So here we go.

The Elves are a nomadic people that live in the hills and plains. The entire culture is centered around their horses, which are treated as members of the family. The horses are incredibly devoted to their masters, who are chosen before the animal's birth. Mares are prized because of their devotion and courage, but no one would turn down the gift of a stallion. Elvish horses are never gelded. Upon reaching the age of eighteen, elves will often leave their homes and travel out into the world. Some stay behind, out of choice or because of responsibilities they cannot ignore, but most leave. And most of them come back. Every once in a while, one may choose not to return, having found a life they are more suited to outside of the Elvish domain. Though there are many different bands traveling about, all of them report to a king, who in turn deals with trade and alliances for his people. Or her people, for sometimes it is a queen who leads them. Females are considered just as capable as males in all things, including the arts of war.

The morning dawned cold and clear over the vast plains. As the sun slipped over the horizon, it shone in the eyes of a small child, barely four years old, distracting her from the scene before her momentarily. Her bright eyes shifted back to the objects of her fascination. A gray mare, her sides dark with sweat, stood slowly and heavily, turning to sniff at the small form that thrashed about near her feet.

The tiny foal squirmed around, trying to get its head off the wet ground. It succeeded, only to be knocked back over again its dam's rough tongue swipes. The foal struggled back upright, trying to get its long legs untangled enough to stand up. Two of the men standing near intervened, heaving the foal to its feet. It stood on shaky legs, braced against the solid forms of the men as they began to towel it dry.

Someone handed the child a rough towel and pushed her gently toward the foal. She tentatively began to help the men rub the newborn, working gently around the dark flanks and legs just as she had been taught. One of the men, her father, paused to smile at her. He turned to the surrounding crowd and announced, "The mare Zinaya has borne a filly." A joyful murmur broke out among the people, and the child grinned brightly.

"And she is mine, right, Father?" she asked with the typical enthusiasm of the very young.

"Yes, Briallen, she is yours."

"What color will she be?"

"Hmm, why don't you ask your grandfather?"

Briallen turned to the other man who had helped with the foal. "Well, Grandfather? What color will she be?"

The man smiled, his bright blue eyes twinkling in his ageless face. He ran a hand over the now-dry foal that was sucking happily from her mother's milk. After a careful inspection of the body and legs, he motioned his granddaughter to come closer. "You see how her mane and tail are darker than the rest of her? She will be a bay, probably bright rather than dark. But look closely here." He lifted the child so she could see the foal's back. "She will have a dark dorsal stripe. Do you know what that means?"

Nodding enthusiastically, Briallen was nearly jumping up and down as she answered, "That means she'll be fast!"

Her grandfather chuckled and tousled her hair. "That's what they say. We'll have to wait until she's grown to see how fast."

"But that takes so long!" the girl wailed.

Laughter rose from the throats of the observers at the child's comment. Her father patted her head fondly. "Someday it won't seem that way. They are but three years, and you have a long life ahead of you. Foals grow quicker than you realize. Just wait and see. Now come, breakfast awaits."

With a resigned sigh, the child took her father's offered hand and walked toward the camp. She nodded politely to those who bowed their heads as she passed, and gave her thanks in response to the congratulations she received for her new foal, just as she had been taught. But her thoughts were not on her actions. They hovered with a tiny brown foal with bright eyes and the fastest legs on the plains.

~ ~ ~

Briallen's father was right. Time did pass quickly as the filly grew and grew, becoming stronger every day. The girl spent almost all her free time with the horse. She was the filly's only playmate, as she had been born too early in the season for there to be others her age. The foal grew into a yearling, and shed her fuzzy baby coat, replacing it with a bright brown than shone orange and gold in the sun. The dorsal stripe remained, just as Briallen's grandfather had predicted, though it was now dark brown instead of black. The filly's mane and tail were pure black, long, thick, and silky, and a white stripe shone boldly on her face.

When the filly was three years old, Briallen was allowed to ride her for the first time, and on that day, she gave the horse a name. Seirian was the name she chose, the name of a heroine from the legends of their people. The two grew together, learning to trust and respect each other, and learning from the more experienced people and horses around them, though they were not allowed out on their own for a few more years.

As she grew older, Briallen found that she had less and less time to spend with her just her horse. Used to being able to ride the plains all day with no responsibilities, she found her new tasks boring and irritating at first, but as she grew used to them, she found some of them interesting. She hated learning the history of her people, but, as a future leader, she understood the necessity of understanding relationships between her race, the Elves and those of the Seekers, who could read minds, Shapeshifters, who took on the shape of any animal they chose, Kisan, who worked with metal and precious jewels in their mountain caves, Fishfolk, who could speak with the animals of the sea, and the elusive Wingra. The only part of her history lessons that she found interesting were the stories of the great battles that took place between the races. She delighted in the warrior training she received as part of her education, and excelled in archery, as most elves did. Time began to fly by as the days were filled with studying and practicing, along with spending time with Seirian each day. In between all this, she somehow found time to develop a talent for drawing, and created a book of the fine plant-based paper that they used so she could carry it around with her and draw whenever the whim took her.

She was so caught up in her life of learning and playing and making friends that she didn't notice that she herself was growing up. At seventeen years of age, she had nearly reached her final growth, but her innocent face and cheerful smiles often fooled people into believing that she was much younger, something that she found very irritating. One day while out on one of the patrols that had become part of her duties, she stopped to get a drink from a large creek. She caught sight of her reflection in the water, and was startled at the change. It wasn't a chubby-faced child that stared back at her, but a slender young woman. Her hair was long and bronze- colored, no longer the bright blonde it had been when she was a child. Large sharp eyes looked out of the slim face over an aristocratic nose, eyes almost the same gold-bronze as her hair.

Then her horse stepped in the water and destroyed the image. Briallen laughed indulgently as an inquisitive nose knocked her back. Let's get going, Seirian seemed to say. Briallen looked up so she could see the position of the sun. "Yes, I guess we better head back," she said with a sigh. She loved being alone out here, where no one could tell her what to do.

The scent of another rider was carried to her on the wind, and a moment later, she heard hoof beats as well. With a sigh, she stood and swung up onto her horse, who was anxious to go see who the newcomer was. Briallen breathed a sigh of relief as she recognized her cousin, Einion. She waved to him and spoke to Seirian, who promptly took off at a gallop.

They met near a stand of trees, and sat down in the shade together. Einion pulled his saddlebags off his mare and opened them. "Here," he said, pulling out some flatbread and a flask of wine. "I thought you might be hungry."

"Thanks." She took the bread gratefully and munched on a piece. "Felt the need to escape the royal life again?"

Einion sighed and rubbed his head wearily. "I don't think I've slept a full night in two weeks. Father's kept me busier than ever. I guess he's trying to take my mind off the fact that I'm not allowed to go journeying. It's not working very well."

Nodding sympathetically, Briallen answered, "It's hard with everyone else in his or her eighteenth year leaving right now. Maybe you should just run away." At the shocked look on his face she grinned. "I'm just kidding, Einion. I know how seriously you take your duties. But quite frankly, I'm glad I'm not in your place. I can't wait to leave next year, and if anyone tried to stop me, well, my horse can outrun all of them."

Einion laughed at his younger cousin's cheeky smile. "Indeed she could, just out of pure stubbornness. Well, you know what they say, like rider like horse. Ouch!" He rubbed his shoulder where Briallen's fist had connected. Then they both laughed again. But Einion's face grew serious as he leaned back against the tree. "Do you think you'll come back after your travels?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Oh, I don't know. was just a thought. I mean, I know how much you hate the restrictions of our society and such, even more than most our age." He trailed off uncertainly, then jumped as Briallen slapped at a bug on her arm and uttered a long stream of curses telling exactly what she thought of stinging insects and their mothers. He tried to frown at her, but had to stifle a smile with an exaggerated yawn. "I think it's time I went back. Your patrol is done, right?"

"Yeah. I'll ride back with you. I'm in need of a short nap."

"Maybe if you slept at night."

"I can't help it! Everything wakes me up."

"When you finally go to bed, you mean."

"I like late nights. Everyone's asleep, and it's so quiet. There's no one around to bother me."

"But what is there to do when everyone's gone to bed?"

"Mmm, sometimes I sketch, or go for a walk, play with the dogs, stuff like that. Whatever I feel like doing at the moment. Last night I repaired a few broken bridles that were lying around."

"Oh, so that's what happened to those. I was going to use them for scrap leather. Well, let's get going, or we'll miss dinner." He leapt gracefully onto Rinial's back, and the stallion danced impatiently in place while they waited for Briallen to mount. She did so in a rather slower manner, having already been in the saddle for most of the day.

"Wanna race?" she asked with an impish grin. Without waiting for an answer, she leaned forward and gave Seirian her head. Immediately the mare leapt into a gallop, kicking her heels up with joy.

"Hey, no fair!" Einion shouted as he let Rinial's reins go. He saw Briallen turn back to grin at him, and then urge her horse on even faster. "Come on, Rinial. Catch her." The stallion complied with great enthusiasm.

A/N(again): this is the fixed version of this chapter. The ending did indeed need help, and I fixed it (I think). Next part coming soon!