“Get back here!” roared the stout, burly man, scouring his house wildly. His eyes fierce, and his temper clearly all worn through. Then again, his fuse had always been short with his second eldest daughter, Kelnianné. “Kelni, the longer you hold out, the worse it’ll be for you!” screamed Brogan, hotly.

“I don’t intend to hold out!” called his daughter in return. She appeared, long black hair in a tight braid, standing at her full height in the door way, a little taller than her father and more slender.

“You’ll come back here, if you know what’s good for you,” warned Brogan in dark tones. Kelnianné took careful note of her mother and younger siblings Jussim and Kaleth, clutched tightly in their mother’s arms, frightened out of their wits.

“No, I don’t think I will. I refuse to marry that pig of a farmer, father, and I know that is good for me!” called Kelnianné in return.

“The dower’s already his, you’re engaged, like it or not,” said her father. “And I think I’m being quite kind when I offer that you come back now, and it’ll save you some lashes!”

“I will not come back. I’m going, as I said. I warned you, father, several times. I warned you that I wouldn’t marry, I warned you not to give the dower, and I warned you that I was leaving as soon as I was old enough. I told you,” she said again. Brogan unhooked his belt and waved it threateningly.

“You’re not coming here, Kelni, that’s not smart!” he said. Kelnianné grimaced visibly. She tightened her cloak around her, refusing to appear afraid. She’d taken a pair of breeches from her elder brother, and she now wore them, ready to leave as soon as her father cleared a path.

“I knew it,” said her father, spitting. “I knew it was a pad idea letting you go wandering and hunting with your brothers. She should have been at home, learning the loom with you!” he said, waving at Kelnianné’s mother, who flinched under his gaze. Kelnianné smiled warmly at her mother, trying to reassure her.

“Fear not, mother, for I’m sure that in time he’ll remember that it was his idea to have he hunt with Jarnath and Kaled,” she said, in as kind a voice as she could summon, given the circumstances. The man’s face flushed red to such an extent as to make the fire burning in the hearth looked pale. Kelnianné turned her attention back to her father.

Her eyes darted to the sword on the mantle piece, where hung her grandfather’s sword from the wars. Brogan’s eyes followed hers, and he paled, trying to get near there, but Kelnianné was faster, darting there and snatching the weapon easily. She drew it, but in her attempt her father put two good lashes from his belt into her. By the time she had the sword in her hand, naked steel, the man leaped back wildly, swinging his belt in a vain attempt to hit her. She stood up to her full height, sword in hand and the blazing heat from the fire washing over her as if confirming her desire and dreams. The sword felt so right in her hand, so good. She tucked, and dashed into her father, catching more attacks from his belt on the way, but she did manage to knock him aside and get to the door. She stood there, short of breath only for a moment to take another look at her father. Her father who’d seemed to strong, and good when she was younger, was no longer so perfect in her eyes. Now he was a man, much like any other, and scarred by time.

“Oath of Belmon, father,” she swore softly. “I’m not returning. Go ahead and hate me for it,” she said, thrusting the sword she carried into the ground. “And I’ll not have you say I stole this. I don’t need your charity, or your possessions for myself. I’m leaving so that I can be what I want, not some farmer’s wife!” she said hotly, before quickly turning and leaving. She’d wanted to talk away from her father’s home with dignity, but she heard his boots resting against the floors of the house, coming after her, and she broke into a run, fast as she could.

When she heard him stop she was already at the edge of his property, standing on the uncultured dirt of a trail, rather than the farming fields of her father’s home, or the boggy lands around that grew cranberries. She took a mournful look at her home, or what used to be her home, a black silhouette against the bright night sky and stars. She watched the light from the windows and doors, and the black figure pacing in front of them that she knew to be her father. Kelnianné sighed, watching as the door closed, and feeling – knowing – that they had barred the doors against her.

“This is what I’d hoped for,” she reminded herself aloud. “This is what I knew would happen, and I was counting on.”

With that, the farmer’s daughter turned from the only home she’d known and walked away, sure that she could never return. But she had a dream in mind, and dream to contend with. It was a greater joy to her to know than any sorrow from her father’s house could be. She was going to be a warrior, and she was going to battle, as she’d been dreaming of since she was small. She was going to find the mercenary company that was coming through, and she was going to join, then she couldn’t run away from her dream. She’d be living it as much as any mortal could. She was heading into the town of Beller, and she would go further, if she needed. But she couldn’t return home now…

So, in the dark of night, and under the cover of trees, Kelnianné plunged on, facing her destiny head on.

End Chapter One

Thanks to all who read. I'm proud of myself for finally getting around to stating a fictionpress account. SOme of you may know that I'm Michiko Mokuyaba on Fanfiction.

I'm sorry for the shorness of this chapter, but I wanted to it be brief to get the ball rolling. Please continue reading, if you enjoyed this at all. Thanks,

TGO.