Tacala glanced up from her work; a dust cloud had caught her attention. It was a rare occurrence for travelers to enter her village, let alone five of them riding just as many rippling black warhorses. Her grip tightened on her broomstick as they rode up, stopping a mere ten feet in front of her. As they gracefully unmounted one in particular caught her watchful eye.

He had long ivory hair, reaching just past his shoulder blades. He wore smoky bronze armor over a tan shirt. Tied onto his waist was a blacker than black wrap that shined like velvet as the sun hit it. The group walked past her, almost as if she wasn’t there. The last to walk past watched her as he went, his deep, stern blue eyes seeming to pass through her.

Fear struck Tacala’s small heart even before the first calmly pushed aside the door. There was something about these men that didn’t seem right. Their skin held an odd shade of tan, a lighter shade than imaginable considering the long, tiring ride the horses seemed to have tread. But underneath is what worried her. Under that falsetto of a tan seemed to be a pale grey, a cold, frozen color immune to the ravages of time.

She spun, having caught herself dazed. Her broomstick clattered to the porch floor as she heard a startled cry from her mother. She ran to the door, pushing it with all her desperate might. Her mom lay in the middle of the floor, supporting herself with shaking arms. Her face bore a red handprint that slowly faded. Above her shaking mother stood the mysterious figure she had previously been entranced by.

“Where is the old man that lived here for a time?!” The man yelled, his frustration clear.

“Leave her alone!” Tacala yelled, her fists tightly clenched.

“Stay out of this kid.”

Tacala looked up, the man that had looked past her before now stood above her, his eyes narrowed and centered only on her. Fear struck her again, sending shivers down her spine.

“Where is the old man?!” The leader asked once more, grabbing the frightened woman by the front of her shirt and lifting her up.

“I don’t know!” She cried, tears running down her face.

“Don’t lie to me wench!” The man yelled, hitting her once more. The sound of that slap snapped Tacala back to reality once more, her love for her mother strengthening her resolve. She dug within her pocket quickly, finding the rock she usually saved for the local boys.

She flung it, practice paying off as it hit the man in the back of the head. Split seconds after she had flung the stone the man next to her grabbed her arm. “I said, leave her alone!” she cried as she was hoisted up and pinned to the wall by her arm. Her eyes met her captures, the ice blue cool and reserved.

“You’ll regret that.” The far man said, releasing Tacala’s mother and turning slowly and dignified as if he hadn’t even felt the rock.

He crossed the room swiftly, an angry frown plastered to his face. He grabbed the girl’s small arm from his servant, motioning for the man to watch the startled mother. His eyes were softer than the other man’s, a deep purple hiding behind masses of brown. Tacala was entranced by them and without meaning to she smiled, misunderstood by the angry man of course. The three servants lined against an adjacent wall winced slightly as their leader sent a strong, sure fist into the little girl’s stomach.

Tacala coughed, a small amount of blood having come to the corner of her mouth. Tears sprang to her eyes as the wind was knocked out of her and thinking only of what could cause a man to hit a child in such a way. The yelling of her mother faded from her ears as she stared straight into those hidden purple eyes.

“Don’t do reckless-” His scold was cut off as Tacala sent a foot into his stomach. He smiled, this girl was interesting. He sent another powerful punch into her stomach as he whistled for the fearsome young man to take the child once more.

Tacala coughed for a moment as the men switched. Her arm socket ached and blood slowly dripped down her chin. She looked up at him, anger welling deep within her. No one touched her mother and no one took her lightly in this village and this is not where it was going to start. With her free arm she grabbed her captor’s ear, pulling his head down in range of her knee. “Let go.” She said firmly, sending her knee into the man’s chin.

In shock those firm blue eyes closed, his grip on the small wrist loosening. Tacala spun out of the man’s arms, running toward those soft purple eyes intent to draw their attention from her mother.

“Leave mom alone!” She yelled as the man raised his hand once more. She grabbed his arm, pulling it down with all her might. The man looked down at the child, a firm look of shock on his face. Within a moment the man was smiling again. This child really was quite interesting.

“Notra?” He motioned in the direction of the three subordinates then nodded at Tacala. Without a pause a woman standing in the center stepped forward. Her tan was darker than the others, only seeming a bit realistic. She wore a green skirt, cut high on both sides and

secured by a gold snake winding low on her hips. Her shirt was also green but mostly made of a coarse leather, though her flowing sleeves shone like satin. It split all the way down the middle, showing a good portion of skin and was tied in place with black string.

She walked over slowly, watching the people around the room carefully. When she reached Tacala she kneeled down, smiling softly and grabbing her gently. She lightly coaxed Tacala’s hands off of her master. Tacala’s small hand was placed inside hers and although she wanted to do something for her mother she was led away without fuss.

“Child, what’s your name?” She asked, kneeling once more, keeping Tacala from looking at her shocked mother.

“I want to save mom….” She wined, rubbing at her sore shoulder as tears sprang to her eyes once more.

“I know, I know. But what’s your name?” Notra asked once more, her voice light and comforting. She wiped a tear off of the girl’s cheek softly.

Tacala frowned, something was pressing against her feelings. Something wasn’t right. What was it she was fighting so strongly for? What pain made her heart wrench?

Notra’s palm grazed her cheek. It stung slightly, much like a slap. “No!” Tacala whirled, facing her mom once more. She squirmed as two powerful but smooth and soft arms wrapped around her.

“Prince!” Notra called to her master, a startled cry.

The man with purple eyes turned quickly, a confused, startled look on his face. Only a handful of powerful men could withstand Notra’s magic, let alone a small girl. What was this child? He paused for a moment, “Do it.” He answered simply, turning back to the crying mother. “How pathetic. Your young daughter fights for you and does not cry but all you do is weep. Disgraceful.”

A hand was placed over Tacala’s mouth before she could respond. She stopped struggling for a moment, waiting for her mother to reply. When none came she looked down. What did make her fight so hard? The hand on Tacala’s mouth moved over her eyes, the darkness hypnotic. A large bronze colored dragon appeared, blowing away the darkness with fiery breath but as her body went limp the darkness fought back.

Notra closed the child’s eyes slowly, setting her against the wall. “I wish I knew what she had seen…” she whispered, moving to take her spot with the prince’s subordinates against the other wall.

“Now, where were we?”

Tacala opened her eyes, gazing up into the sky through branches of the tree she was reclining in. It had been eight years since her mother had been so beaten, yet somehow she could not remember the perpetrator’s faces. It was like something was in the way. She sighed, a week did not go by without her having that dream and she was getting rather tired of it.

She sighed, sitting up and readjusting to a comfortable position. She mumbled softly to herself. She didn’t know what to do with herself, she was bored to tears and didn’t know what to do about it. There was just something about her that yearned for something greater and grander.

She paused, an idea suddenly striking her.

There was a man staying at her mother’s inn. She knew because she had had to take over dealing with clients, her mother wouldn’t deal with them since eight years ago. He was supposedly looking for people to go on adventures with him and he had taken a particular interest in Tacala.

She smiled. That’s why she had been napping in the tree, he was asking too many questions for her liking. But she felt obligated to oblige him, her mother seemed to like him. She would actively talk to him and participate in activities and for that Tacala was grateful.

She had no idea why he took interest in her, there were plenty of people in the village who seemed better suited for adventures, and although Tacala was stronger than she seemed she was by no means the strongest. But it seemed to her high time to leave, at nearly eighteen she had never been outside the village.

“Oh there you are Tacala! I was looking for you.” A voice called, breaking Tacala from her thoughts causing her to jump slightly.

“Your always looking for me, Mr. Rand.” For that was the man’s name. The man that asked too many questions. “What is it you need?” She asked, studying him for the tenth time.

He had red hair, wild and mangy like an untamed fire and his brown eyes were soft and gentle. He wore a long, black cloak over brown pants and a red tunic. A smile crept on his face. “I came to ask you again-”

“-Whether or not I’ll go adventuring with you. Yeah, I know. Have you asked mom?”

“I have and, although a little reluctant, she admitted it wasn’t fair to you to keep you here. So what do you say?”

“I’ve been thinking about it…” Tacala climbed down from her perch, tapping her boots lightly against the trunk of the tree to thank it. She glanced around for a moment, wanting not only to make the situation uncomfortable for Rand but to see if he would say anything before she continued.

In both cases it failed.

“I’ll go talk to mom.”

“Sounds good.” Rand announced, moving to lean against the tree and folding his arms in thought. Would she be able to suite his purposes?