Tempest Daughter- Book One of the Chosen

Prologue

The forest was unnaturally still, devoid of life except for one uneasy crow perched in the boughs of a pine. A shadowy shape moved silently through the trees. Startled, the crow broke the quiet by launching itself into the air with a raucous caw. As its cries faded into the distance, the shape moved out of the shadows, revealing itself to be a boy no more than eight cycles old. With slender fingers, he nocked an arrow to his bow as his nostrils flared and took in a deep breath of air. The air filled his nostrils with the smell of rotting flesh mingling with the heady scent of the pine needles that carpeted the forest floor. He seemed to freeze for a moment, mouthing one word: beharurathen. Bringers of death. 

Rashly ignoring his own safety, he quickened his pace and strode into a clearing hidden from the untrained eye. He cursed as he saw the torn ground exposing the rich brown dirt beneath the dead needles and the patches of both red and black blood staining the earth. Picking up a stray arrow, he laid down his bow and looked around the scene grimly. Those blasted wolves had slaughtered more Zu'nahi innocents, just as they had done to his family.

He flinched at the sound of a whimper and spun around, fully expecting a beharurathe to launch itself at his throat. However, there was nothing. The cry came again from the hollow stump of one of the trees that had fallen during the spring storms. He cautiously moved forward and looked down into the hollow. A little girl of two seasons looked back up at him with her tear-streaked face. "Up?" she pleaded. 

He smiled and gently reached down to pick her up. "What's your name?" he asked as he lifted her. She gave no response and instead sucked her thumb, staring solemnly at him. "Do you not know your bird?" he inquired. When he received no answer, he sighed and shook his head. "Well, I can't just give you a bird, and I have no name to call you by… I know! No name- lin ya. Linya. That's what I will call you. Do you like it?"

Linya reached up with one of her plump hands and pulled on the feather twisted into his long hair. He laughed. "That's my feather," he told her. "It's a hawk feather, just like my name- Hawk." 

She let go and gravely patted it, looking up at him with eyes that had seen too much for her age. Hawk picked up his bow and slung it over his shoulder, supporting Linya with his other arm. As he started on the path that led to the village, she tugged on his shirt. "Mommy? Daddy?" she whimpered. 

Hawk shook his head in the fading light and whispered, "Your parents are gone, Linya, just like mine. I'm your family now."