From the Ashes

40

"'Make it look
pretty,
but train it to
kill'"

- Allin Khg

_____

。・°°・Lovota・°°・。

She had to admit the jealous creeping over her skin, as she thought about the group of kids she left standing in the midst of a meadow.

How does it feel to have a group of friends?

"You are a prince," the Queen seethed,"you do not need friends, you need alliances."

"But mother," the boy whimpered, lips trembling slightly,"friends-"

"Did I not make myself clear!" the Queen screamed, stepping fourth so she leered over her son,"friends will only slow you down."

"Yes, mother," the prince sighed, bowing, as he exited the throne room.

"So the prince doesn't get everything he wishes," a voice called from the shadows, as the boy closed the doors behind him to his Queens throne room.

"No," the prince spat,"what would you know of having friends, anyway."

Stepping forward, little Lovotas flame was clothed in darkness,"I don't know, I am just your Queens weapon after all. I'd only kill those who'd get too close."

"Exactly..." the prince wondered,"so stop leering and play with me."

"Play?" Little Lovota wondered,"I do not know of such a word?"

Grabbing the wildrens hand in his, the prince dragged the girl behind her, towards the royal stables where he hid all his toys in amongst the horses.

"To have fun-"

"Is to play," Lovota sighed, clasping the inside of her compass shut, as she listen to the thrilling of the hunt.

Her wolves were like a thunderstorm, claps of lightning rushing by, too fast for her to catch but a bright glint of their fur. They were playing chase, with one another, it seemed.

Lovota knew of the news that the forest seemed to gossip about. How the new Wanheda has risen from the darkness, and seemingly the title belongs to a little girl.

If the weapon wasn't at odds with every clan at the moment, she probably would've caught the title thief already and turned her over to her old queen.

It would've made for an interesting wedding gift.

Another thing the forest tells her is that her beloved betrothed seems to have left the comforts of his four walls of ice. How tragic it would be, if he returned home with an arrow in his chest.

Tracing her thumb and forefinger down the iron string coiling up her bow, Lovota wondered what would've happened if the mountain men never took her.

Would she have been a princess, or would she have continued to be a queens weapon?

Either or, she would've grown used to the idea of others bowing to her. I mean, they would've, for they would have realised she is no longer a little wildren girl her people or the Queen could continue to keep on a leash.

Sometimes, a symbol of respect was all it took for one to survive the jaws of a wolf.

Bringing an arrow from over her shoulder, Lovota fell into a soft trace as her horse moved swiftly throughout the forest. The blurring of the trees weren't anything she was already accustomed to.

She smiled at the feel of the weapon in her hands, it felt as if something had come back to her, like a family member with a king heart.

Brushing her thumb softly over the wood, she remembered the feeling of splinters digging themselves into her skin when she first began to make such a weapon.

But Mother Nature had guided her spirit, softly soothing her hands so that it grew a calloused glove. She no longer felt the pain, even when her fingers began to bleed from the metal string.

Straining her muscles back, she felt the role of her shoulders be profound beneath the leather, sticking out slightly like the wings of a bird waiting to take flight.

The hair in her face whipped back and forth, not deterring her vision, as her mother made her train vigorously with nothing but the senses of sound and feel on her side.

She had learnt that day to shoot even in the darkest of nights, and still slash her arrow through the center of whatever she tethered herself too.

Letting the arrow fly, she watched the bird fall.