I was labeled a murderer, and worse, a traitor. My people had shunned me; I hoped my other friends would believe me. They all knew I hated her and wanted her dead, and it certainly would not have been my first kill, but would any of them remember the vow I made to protect her? I never break a vow, but I had failed. And the worst part is that part of me was glad she’s dead.

I am an Elf, Wood-Elf, to be exact. My father is the king of our lands. We used to be a happy, peaceful people. Lately, the goblins have been coming down from the mountains and killing those who live close to the forest's edge. That's where they found her - my half-sister, the spawn of my father and his newest wife. She was only 30 years old, my sister, young by our standards. I suspect it was the goblins who killed her, but no one - not even my own father - believes me. If there are any who do, they are wisely keeping quiet about it.

Why would they blame me? The answer comes easily. I was found covered in blood not 100 paces away, sleeping. I had been out hunting for a week and did not even know she had been missing. I go hunting often. I can't stand to be in the castle if anyone but my father is there. His wife is unbearable, and her daughter exactly like her: Marsin and Maudin.

Marsin is a River-Elf who came into our lands 35 years ago. My father was instantly smitten. After my mother died when I was young, he was lonely. He had been through 2 other wives trying to fill the emptiness left behind, but Marsin was the first of our kind (Elfin) since my mother. Marsin is beautiful, and she was kind to him. She was perfect...until Maudin was born. Marsin wanted her daughter to inherit my father's kingdom, and tried to poison him against me. Now, she finally had.

For the first time in my lifetime - nearly 100 years - my father had banished someone, and it was me. I was banished from my home. I was allowed to bring with me a bow, a small quiver of arrows, the clothes on my back, and a small sack of food that might last me a week. No doubt messages were sent out to the nearest lands telling of my treachery and forbidding them to help me.

I was on my own. My father had called me a monster, and I am. I yelled at him, screaming that his beloved wife was trying to destroy him. I felt a rage that I could not contain. Leaving the border of our, his, lands, a group of my old companions tried to kill me. I struck one of them. He fell and did not rise, and I felt joy that maybe he was dead, until regret sank in and rage returned.

The rage gave me release. I savored it; I wanted it. It would keep me alive long enough to make it to the other side of this earth, to the realm of men, where maybe I could find an old friend and be welcomed. I needed the anger to survive the wild. It didn't make me reckless, as it did most. I was more cautious than normal, more alert to the possible dangers around me, more dangerous to my enemies.

And so, in this manner, I set out on my journey. Following the trail, with a quick horse, it would take me near 8 months to complete. Now, avoiding trails until I cross the mountains, hopefully being able to obtain a boat to carry me down the river, I could maybe be there before a year has passed. I needed luck, which I didn't seem to have too much of.

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A/N: I'm thinking about taking out the second-to-last paragraph. What do you think? I'm also about halfway through chapter 2, the more motivation I have, the quicker it will be posted. hint hint