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Rated: 13+ · Fiction · Action/Adventure · #1956955
Working on a new story. Dragons, Mages, Fair Maidens and Curses.
Sprinting through the forest, Fjori of Stonegate flee's from her pursuers . Her long fiery-red hair flows carelessly in the wind. Her heels have long since been discarded. They would have only slowed her down. The pure white gown she wears steadily picks up stains from the earth. Tears flow from her bright green eyes and down the fair skin of her cheeks. Her mind is a whirlwind of emotions right now. But regret and sorrow quickly make themselves dominant. They cloud her judgement and her true feelings. But now she does not care for clear decisions or how she really feels. At the moment she only cares for solitude.

The distant shouts of the "Hunting Party" steadily fade from existence. Sweat begins to pour from Fjori's brow. Her heart pounds away in her head. The muscles in her legs cry out in pain, and her lungs soon join in on the symphony of anguish. The bitter taste of copper blankets her taste buds. "Keep going!" she thinks to herself over and over again. She is dead set on not being caught, as if her life depended on it. Little did she know that her life DOES depend on it.

Finally the shouts are no more, and all that remains is Fjori's labored breathing. The steady "Crunch. Crunch. Crunch" of the leaves underneath her feet acts as a metronome for her pace. "Don't go too far into the woods, for evil lurks within." She remembers a word of caution from her mother. A warning that has come a moment too late. The roar of a dragon pieces through the deep of the woods. Paralyzing Fjori with fear, she stops dead in here tracks. She sets her eyes upon the sky. Scanning for a flash of red.  Suddenly a riddle of explosions in the sky disrupt the calm afternoon air. Fjori covers her head and quickly finds cover behind a nearby tree. A triplet of thunder comes soon afterwards.

"Magic." Fjori says to herself, still trying to catch her breath.

The court mage at castle WhiteFire would always surprise Fjori when she came to visit as a child. He would cast spells and enchantments on her toys to make them come to life. Magic always had a distinct and unique tone to it when cast. That tone was burnt into Fjori's mind permanently.

its not much, but that's what I got so far.
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