Golden Arrow- Prologue

          Mary smiled tiredly at her new daughter. "Jacob would have been proud of you," she thought silently, tears glistening in her eyes. Jacob, her husband, had died while fighting bandits only two months before, unable to even glimpse his would-be daughter. Mary tenderly brushed aside a tendril of little Rhian's dark brown hair.
          "Aye, she's a pretty one, mistress," the midwife said, cutting into Mary's thoughts. "Brown hair she's gotten from you, but her eyes are so green, it's disconcerting. I've never seen a green -eyed child before."
          "Mmm," murmured Mary, undisturbed by the midwife's words as she stared straight into Rhian's emerald pools of light.
          The baby made small cooing noises, and lifted her tiny hand toward her mother.
          Mary beamed, and started to reach for Rhian's outstretched hand when a startled shriek filled the wooden shack.
          "The fae!" screamed the midwife, "The mark of the fae!" She pointed a shaky finger at Rhian's wrist. Mary followed the midwife's finger and stared, horrified, at the symbol carved into the base of her daughter's left palm.
          The mark was a tiny aspen leaf the size of a fingernail. Babies born with the mark were said to be cursed by the hated fairy folk. In the past, those that had lived seemingly caused strange happenings around them. In these times, the cursed children were simply killed without question, . The Law strictly ordered it, afriad that the marked children would bring bad luck to the town.
         Why me? There hasn't been a marked child for years. Why my daughter? Mary's thoughts veered crazily in her head.
         The pale-faced midwife said firmly, her voice quivering, "You must kill her, mistress. You have no choice. Kill her before the fae's evil infects us all." She stalked out of the room and into the kitchen, searching hurriedly for a knife.
          Mary pushed away Natalia, her hands shaking with mixed disgust and fear. Immediately, a sad look crept into her daughter's green eyes, and she let out a loud squall. Rhian's mournful cry pierced Mary's heart, and she shook her head, clearing her thoughts. What was she doing? Mary thought wildly. How could she kill an innocent child, her child? She looked intently at Rhian's eyes; the trust she had seen before had been replaced with confusion and fear.
          At that instant, Mary made up her mind. She would take her daughter and run. She didn't know where, but she would take her away, somewhere where the Law wouldn't find her. Mary gathered Rhian in her arms, took a deep breath, and burst out the front door.

         The midwife searched the drawers of the kitchen nervously, her hand fumbling with the sudden shock at singing the mark. The baby must be killed, she thought, shaking away any guilt and sadness she felt. She must be, or the town will be cursed. Her trembling hand finally closed around the handle of a butcher's knife.
         "It's all for the best, mistress," the midwife said out loud, walking grimly into the main room. She gaped with disbelief when she saw the room was empty, then gave a loud wail.
         The midwife swung open the front door, running into the streets. She found the soldiers posted near the marketplace and screamed indistinct words. The soldiers stared at her in alarm.
         One of the soldiers stepped forward. "Why are you screaming, woman?" he asked irritably.
         The midwife gasped for breath, managing to make out, "Baby...cursed with leaf mark! Mother ran! Go...catch them before...infects town!"
         A young soldier sneered at her splotchy face, "Surely you don't believe those tales, Midwife. We haven't had a marked child for..." He was silenced by a look from an elder-looking officer.
         "Show us the way, Midwife," the officer barked.
         A voice rang out, "Look! The tracks of the mother! She's heading toward the forest. Thinks she can run from us, aye?" There were sniggers all around.
         "Kill the child!" the men chanted, jerking their arms up and down in rhythm to their words. Bloodthirst rose in them and shone in their eager eyes. "Kill the child!"
         "Alright!" the officer bellowed with an impatient grimace, lighting a torch, "Let's move!"

         Mary's heart jostled painfully in her chest as she ran into the night. Her feet pumped up and down without thought, for all her mind could think was 'Run!' She looked worriedly at Rhian as she fled. When her feet finally stilled, she looked up, surprised to see the mysterious edge of the Wood in front of her. Mary shuffled slowly into the forest as she held Rhian protectively. Upon entering the forest, the trees seemed to close around her as if condemning her to wander forever in their midst.
         Mary glanced fearfully at the surrounding trees. "Faeries?" her voice came out in a gasping whisper. She cleared her throat. "Faeries, I need your help." Silence loomed around her, its nonexistent voice mocking her. "Please," she pleaded desperately. "My child, the others will kill her." There was still no answer. "I beg you to come out," she cried. Her eyes then widened with surprise and fear as she felt a slight vibration beneath her sandals.
         "The Law is coming,"Mary whispered. Her eyes scanned the trees before her. "Look!" she said, raising up Rhian's tiny left palm, "The mark that you gave her. You brought her death upon her; can you not save her?"
         There was a rustle leaves, followed by a sharp hiss of protest. Then the Wood held its breath as a tall, slender woman clothed in green walked slowly towards Mary. Mary gasped, and backed away a step as she caught sight of the lone fae.
         "Did you not call me?" the fairy asked with a slightly mocking tone. "Why then do you back away?"
         Mary tried to break her gaze from the woman. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
         "What do you want, human woman?" The faery's voice was surprisingly low and mellow.
         Mary tilted her head up sharply as men's shouts caught her ears. Her arms trembled as she held out Rhian. "Take her," she said. "Keep her safe. It is the only way to save her."
         "And why should I do anything for you, human woman,"the faery said scornfully, "You who have always hated and hunted my people?"
         Mary's cheeks burned with shame as she looked down at her daughter. The faery gasped involuntarily as she followed the human's gaze. "Green eyes," she murmured. Mary looked up, startled at the sudden voice, then saw the faery's own eyes--the same shade of emerald the colored her child's.
         The faery shook her head as if waking herself from a reverie. "I will take the child," she said quickly, and reached out her arms. Mary clutched Rhian to her chest. She stared intently at her daughter, as if trying to commit the child's face to memory. She traced the small aspen leaf on her daughter's palm, a cry struggling to rise in her throat.
         The crackle of many boots on twigs and dry leaves nearby suddenly filled her ears, and her heart felt like breaking. She gave a muffled but wild sob, then slowly handed her tiny daughter to the faery. "Her name is Rhian," she murmured, then looked up to stare intently in the faery's green eyes. "Please...take care of her."
         "I will raise her as my own," the tall green clothed lady spoke solemnly. "I promise." She turned slowly.
         "No," Mary whispered hoarsely, her arm reaching out as if to snatch Rhian back. The faery walked smoothly on, never faltering. As the shouts of the Law's guards came nearer, she melted away, disappearing into the forest.
         Mary's eyes widened as the faery vanished. Her mouth opened in a silent wail, then closed as a heavy, sorrow-filled weariness overtook her. She sank slowly to the ground and let herself slide into turbulent dreams.

         The guards marched through the forest, their eager cries disturbing the silence of the forest night. "Over here!" one of the men called, "The mother is..." His voice faded away as he stared in shock at what was before him. The rest of the guard clambered over to where the man stood. Their mouths gaped with the same confusion and disappointment as the first man. "But...where is the child?" the officer said dumbly, echoing the thoughts of his crew. For he saw, as the rest of them did, only a wearied woman laying deep in slumber, and beside her, a lone pile of aspen leaves.