Kolsted was a town made entirely of stone that has existed for centuries even though it is one of the younger towns of Turrok. Nevertheless, Vylina knew it inside out, and she was never scared to run around it wherever and whenever she pleased. Because of that, the locals took to calling her “Little Dove”, for how she seemed to just fly from one building to another. There was not a single stone building or person within her little stone-grey cage that she did not know.

This morning, she had already flown out of her nest and was making her way to the bakery. Her mother didn’t know, but then again, she rarely knew when the Little Dove flew out. It was after the hour of dawn, meaning old man baker would already be up and working on the first batch of pastries for the morning, she told herself with a grin. Those ones were the best, but she could never get any of them because old man baker would only give them to a group of guardsmen who came every morning with spears, swords, and a mule pulling a wagon carry them all in. Despite that though, she wanted one badly and was already imagining how great it would taste, her mouth-watering from the anticipation. Maybe he would give her one this time? Last time, he refused her, so she was left with no choice but to snatch it and run. It wasn’t like the old man could run anyway – he was too slow to catch the Little Dove after all; no one could.

“The Lil Dove is out early, eh? You better not be up to no trouble now, you hear!” called a voice as she was going down an alley. Turning her head, she saw the big-breasted woman who worked at one of the inns; the one with the big pig on it.

“ ‘Leena’s just going to get some breakfast, Missus Pig Lady” she called back with a broad smile and only glee in her sea blue eyes.

“I told you not to call me that name!” she shouted at Vylina with a threatening fist but the Little Dove only ran off laughing. She knew the innkeeper had a fierce temper that was easily triggered but she could never remember her name anyway; not that she ever really tried.

Reaching the end of the alley, she came across the set of crates and barrels she usually used to reach the rooftops. With her small size, she was very quick and nimble and reached the top of them within mere moments, climbing to the shingles of the nearby rooftop with ease. The hard part wasn’t the climbing nor the walking, but trying to remain quiet. Over time, she learned to walk on the balls of her feet which helped a lot. Since Kolsted always snowed; being in the northern-most kingdom of Arincar, her mother constantly urged her to dress for the weather, but she had never minded the snow or cold. Nevertheless, she always made sure to carry her father’s wool scarf wrapped around her neck and a pair of thick leather shoes. The shoes, in particular, made the climbing difficult since the snow on the roofs and shingles were slippery not to mention the shoes had no grip. Still, after much trial and error, she had become decent enough and could manage it all somehow; a feat she felt proud of herself for.

After taking a moment to catch her breath, she looked towards the snow-covered ledge of the roof and smiled to herself; the rush of excitement filling her. She had always loved feeling like a true bird; looking down on everyone from above, and leaping from roof to roof with hardly a noise. She often did it just for the fun of it. Her father would scold her with a smack and warned her against doing such things, but she couldn’t help it. Flying was a part of who she was, after all, why would everyone call her “Little Dove” if she couldn’t fly like she wanted? But now wasn’t the time for flying; not if she wanted to reach the bakery before the guardsmen who would take away her pastries.

Pushing a lock of her mahogany hair out of the way, she dashed up and then down the shingles of the roof and leaped off the edge as high as she could without a second thought. There was never a drop of hesitation or fear in her like there would be in most; only glee and joy filled those blue eyes at the world above the buildings. She often wished she could get higher; stay in the air longer with her father’s brown tunic and fur scarf blowing about her; but, just when it feels like she could go higher still, the roof or floor rushes up to meet her.

When she landed, she felt the familiar sting on her feet and laughed giddily, drunk on the thrill. She enjoyed the tingling feeling going through her legs; it was all a part of the rush for her. So, she bolted off again, trying to run even faster this time; trying to get even higher this time. She refused to leap until she came to the very edge of the roof, this time causing pieces of the shingle to fall to the street below from her weight. With all her might, she leaped into the air, kicking her feet forward to go higher and further than before. This time, she landed on her heels and went into a roll across the snow-covered stone roof; her laughter like that of a maniac.

“Higher! Higher! Faster!” she chanted to herself. The flat roofs were her favourite; she could put her all into it on these roofs and try to get even higher; to fly even longer. And so, she went from one edge of the roof, and with all of her might, she ran as fast as she could and leaped into the dawn morning one more time. With her outstretched hands grasping for the sky, she bore a smile from ear to ear as she looked upwards and then came crashing down onto the next roof with a loud thud. This time, however, her landing was reckless. Under her weight, the shingles came loose and she started to slide and tumble backward; down the roof towards its edge and the drop below her. With her breathing frantic, she drove her hand into the roof and found a crevice between two shingles and gripped tightly onto it. Although it threatened to break, it held her just long enough for her to find her footing; just at the very edge of the roof. Just as she did so, the shingle snapped and gave way in her hand and still yet, there was no fear in her – only glee.

She continued on like that down the street for another three houses before coming to a stop. Lying flat on her stomach to remain unseen, she crawled her way through the snow to the edge of the stone roof. The bakery was directly across from her now, and she could easily see old man baker through his window, going about his work as he did every morning. Turning her head to her left, a frown came over her mouth. Three guardsmen were already coming up the street leading their mule and cart. She had to act quickly or she’d lose her prize. Asking the old man baker for one wouldn’t work – he was like to refuse her again, and she’d have to snatch one and flee, but the guardsmen would give her chase; could she outrun them? Maybe. She was nimble enough and much smaller; maybe even knew the town better as well since they mainly stayed in that dark gloomy castle just north of here. It seemed possible if -

She had an idea then; a devious idea that would be too fun not to do, she decided. So, scrambling to her feet, she darted back the way she came from, sailing through the sky unto the building. With a quick tumbling roll as her landing, she looked around for a way down but saw none. Then, she noticed a window’s ledge on the next building she was facing. Her eyes danced with more glee at the thought and she decided on it right then and there.

Her run-up this time was not as fast; nor was her leap as high. Nevertheless, she did it just good enough to begin her descent and reach for the ledge. Vylina’s eyes held only delight in them the entire way down; even when she smashed face-first against the wall, just a bit above the window. While breathing heavily from the rush, she slid down towards the ledge and grabbed it. Her face stung, but it showed no sign of pain; why would it? The Little Dove had done it on her first attempt and felt only pride. From there, she climbed her way down, using mainly her fingertips to hold her balance and find small crevices between the stones for grip. By the end of her climb, her fingers were sore, blistered, and bloodied, but she didn’t mind it – her mother would treat them while her father scolded her like always. The feeling of blood on her fingers made them slippery for her however, so she wiped them into the tunic her father gave her in an attempt to dry them.

Scampering to the entrance of the alley she now found herself in, she peered out beyond and spied the bakery. They were loading the cart with lots of pastries now. She found herself drooling without notice and wiped it away with the back of her hand. If this plan worked, she would be able to get a lot more than just one pastry this time. She’d be able to have so much, she could even give some to her mother and father too! They wouldn’t even need to eat that nasty-tasting gruel that the pot-shop lady served. She hated that stuff more than anything. It always had the taste of hot mud and dirt and never any meat. And the few times there was meat, she hated it even more because it smelled, and she once found a strange bone in it. She never ate it again since then, although both her parents did and would often try to force her to. This time, they wouldn’t have to either.

“... ‘til next time” came a voice. Vylina’s eyes lit up. The guardsmen were moving now; back the way they came; back towards her; it was almost time. A smirk came over her lips as she crept her head behind the wall of the alley again. Crouching low to the floor, she readied herself and found a stone hidden beneath the snow. Taking off her scarf, she wrapped the stone inside of it, creating a makeshift slingshot. She would have to be fast for this to work, so she stood there, poised; waiting for the first sign of the beast.

She heard the whinnying of the animal and the guardsmen speaking gradually becoming closer and closer. Before any of them became visible, she began to spin the scarf above her head; faster and faster with each cycle before finally loosing it across the street. The stone flew within a foot of the beast; startling the poor animal. She watched the mule cry out and attempted to run ahead but the guardsmen gripped tightly on the reigns before the situation escalated. Soothing the beast with some calm words and a few brushes, the men started to resume their journey, but it was already too late.

“Ughhh!” she cried out loudly, with a hand on her face. The guardsmen stopped in their tracks and peered beneath the cart where they found her; on her knees with blood stained on her face and tunic.

“Damnit, Graston! You ran over a child with the mule!” cried one of the guardsmen.

“No! God no! O’ course not! She wasn’t there at all! I would’ve seen ‘er!” replied another.

“Then what spooked the damn beast in the first place if not this, huh!” called still a third voice. “If you’d keep your mouth shut ‘n’ mind your job, you wouldn’t have run over the damn child, you dolt!” he finished while reaching down to help Vylina.

“Ahhh!” she screamed, as he tried to lift her. She fell over, holding her stomach and clenched her eyes shut. Stunned by her performance, the guard leaned close and gingerly lifted her. Peering through one eye, the Little Dove looked and saw that her plan worked even better than she expected. The man was about to place her right next to the food in the back of the wagon! She couldn’t have asked for a better opportunity!

“Mo... my...” she called out meekly. After the man placed her in the wagon her eyes opened slowly as she breathed heavily.

“Best we get her to a healer. She looks like she could drop any moment now” said the man looking at her. Her breathing became heavier and laboured, ‘causing the man to worry even more.

“Hang on...” said the voice of the first man; the one leading the ass. “... This little girl gots a familiar face.”

Vylina’s breathing stopped and it was her heart beating heavily in her ears now. If the guard could recognize her, there’s no way this would work. Worse yet, they may arrest her and put her in the dungeon. Sure, she was a child, but her father always told her that those with power never cared for people without it. He also told her that a dungeon was where soldiers and nobles sent bad people for doing bad things so that bad things could happen to them in turn. She never did any bad things – not truly; she just liked to play around and snatched things from time to time. No. She won’t go to the dungeon, she decided then and there.

The man’s hand stretched towards her and then she saw her chance. With all her might, she bit the man’s gloved hand as hard as she could. The taste of leather and blood flowed into her mouth as the screams and wailing of a man filled her ears.

“Wha - !” began the other one but her foot found his face before he could finish. She raced to the front of the cart and leaped onto the back of the mule. A quick slap on its rump and the ass galloped forward immediately, hauling with it her earnings. Behind her, she heard the scream and curses of the guardsmen, fading away. Grinning from ear to ear, she rushed the mule as far as away as she could. However, soon enough, that grin she so proudly wore disappeared from her face.

From behind her, a spear landed its mark into one of the wheels of the cart. The jolt shook everything; the wagon, the donkey, and her. Her teeth chattered hard and her world shook heavily as the ground came up to meet her and the ass. Tossed from the mule, she slid across the snow while the ass whined and cried on its side; the overturned cart pinning it down. Her prizes lay strewn about the snow covered floor just before her but her head pounded too heavily for her to find the strength to get up.

“So! You’re the notorious Little Dove that we keep hearing about, eh?” said a voice coming up behind her. Turning on her back, she looked up and saw the third guard crouching just above her. “You know, for a little bird, you sure like causing a lot of trouble, missy. Why would you steal from guards, huh?” he asked.

Her head was still groggy but she could make-out the badge of a tower and a star above it that was sewn onto the breast of the man’s jerkin. They would take her to a dungeon now, for sure; where they would do bad things to her. Tears started to well up in her eyes at the thought.

“I... I just wanted... food for me mum and paahhhhh” she wailed in a mess of tears suddenly. The guard looked down at her with indifferent eyes, but then he let out a sigh.

“Next time, just try asking. Yer’ far too small, young, ‘n’ pretty to be spending time in a cell, Little Dove” he said helping her up to her feet. She reduced her tears to sniffles as the man wiped her cheeks.

“Now now. Clean yourself up. And here” he said, offering her a handful of bread from the floor. “It’s not like Lord Montt would be eating these now anyway, so you can have as many of ‘em as you like. We’ll need to beg old man Isaac for a fresh batch thanks to you. He won’t be pleased, but it’ll be better than having Lord Montt find out he’s eating snow covered bread, that’s for sure” he said standing up.

“The next time you go biting ‘n’ kicking people though, I won’t be so nice, you hear? Now go on. Get! ‘fore I change my mind!” he shouted down to her. Without a second thought, she scampered off clutching her prize closely to her chest. The plan hadn’t worked out how she wanted, but she still got the food anyway. Surely, her parents would be happy about that, right? Well, she’ll have to leave out the part about her trying to steal it though. Her father would give her quite the scolding for that, she was sure.

She looked up to the sky with a broad grin, completely proud of herself. Suddenly in great spirits, she decided today would be a great day for sure. She even wagered she’d see the Pearl Moon in the sky today. Her mother had always loved the stars and taught her whatever she knew about them. As a matter of fact, her mother once told her that she was named after the Dragon Star in the western sky, for it was the brightest star in the sky when she was born. For that, her mother would often tell her she was destined for greatness, to be named after such a star. The Pearl Moon, on the other hand, was the moon of Lacrymosa, she was told. It was one of the three moons in the sky and appeared mainly at night. There was more to it than that; something about some white lady goddess who was from the moon, but she couldn’t remember. What she did remember, was that to see the moon during the day was rare and considered good luck. Still with her neck craned to the sky, she didn’t see any sign of it, only the red one and the burning comet. But the day had only begun and she was certain she would find it soon enough.

The snow covered streets of Kolsted was more crowded now, as the town began to come alive. Stalls were being set up along some streets while stores opened their doors, and people went about their business. The torches that were attached to poles all along the streets and buildings were also being lit by the torch men, to keep the city warm. Most people that she passed however held a bowl in hand instead of a torch and were no doubt on their way to the pot shops for their morning gruel. Usually, that would annoy her but this time, it brought a smile to her face; for she was not holding a bowl, but bread this time. As people looked at her walking by, many bided her good morning and more asked her if she had stolen her bread this time as well. But to all of them, she only smiled, waved, and exchanged a few words from time to time, constantly saying that she was in a hurry to return home.

“‘Leena! Child, what have you done this time!” she heard a familiar voice call out just short of shouting. She turned to meet the voice with a smile and saw her mother rushing towards her with a worried look on her face. “Look at you, child!” she finished as she began worrying about the bruises on her face and the blood on her tunic.

“Are you hurt! Why are you covered in so much blood!” she began.

“Mum! I’m fine, I’m fine! But look! Food, mommy! Enough for me, you, ‘n’ dad! We don’t need to eat that nasty shit gruel today!” she said holding up the bread in her arms while giving a beaming smile. Her teeth and lips showed blood all over and cheeks and nose showed bruising as well making for an odd sight.

“Child! Your mouth’s as filthy with words as with blood! What trouble did you cause this time to get all that bread ‘n’ bruises, huh?” her mother asked as she combed her tangled hair out. Her mother had always fidgeted whenever her hair was in a mess; going to great lengths to keep it combed and neat. Vylina hated it when she did that. By the time her mother was finished, her hair would tumble down into her face as usual and constantly annoy her. It was not long like her mother’s, but it was long enough to be a nuisance to her anyway, and her mother would never let her cut it. Many often said she looked like a childish version of her mother and she supposed she could see that as her hair was the same colour. But she always thought her mother was prettier than her; her eyes even bluer than hers.

“Come, my Little Dragon, let’s get you home. Your father’s been worried sick, you know? He’ll scold you for sure when he sees you”, her mother told her while pulling her along by the sleeve of her tunic. Not even the threat of her angry father at home waiting for her could sour her mood. Once she explained what had happened, he would thank her and kiss her. She was so certain of that and could hardly wait.

Returning home, she began her story of how she got the bread; her version of it, anyway. All the while, her mother happily listened and smiled and laughed, walking with her side by side. The wind was not particularly strong nor was the snow falling heavily, but her mother made sure to dress as warmly as she possibly could, carrying a thick wool shawl wrapped around her shoulders and then still a thick wool scarf beneath that. Beneath all of that, her simple figure that would show under her roughspun dress was hidden and gave her the appearance of some chubby lady. On her feet were the worn-out fur boots she always wore that matched the worn-out gloves on her hands. If it wasn’t for the light traces of snow in her hair, someone might’ve mistook her for a bear, the Little Dove thought.

Randomly, a man appeared out of nowhere and barrelled into them both, knocking them to the ground and breaking the child’s thoughts. Vylina’s bread was sent flying and scattered across the snow yet again but the stranger didn’t even take a moment to look back and apologize.

“Hey!” she shouted behind the man but he had already made another turn and disappeared from sight. “What’s his problem”, she finished as she began picking up her bread.

“Vylina. Child. Quiet!” her mother bid her in a hushed whisper. The Little Dove remained still and quiet, looking at her mother’s worried face and then she heard it; the faint sounds of cries and screams, slowly becoming louder.

“Mum? What’s wrong? Mummy?” she repeated, looking at her mother for an answer. Her mother only stood stiffly and raised the shawl on her shoulders higher onto her neck.

“Horrick!” was her mother’s only response. Grabbing the Little Dove tightly by the hand, she dragged her behind her as she ran through the snow. She wanted to fight against her mother’s grip, but no matter what she tried, she couldn’t.

“Mum! Mum! You’re hurting me! Mummy!” she cried, but her mother wasn’t listening.

The screams were all around her now, and people were frantically running in the opposite direction to them. Confused, the Little Dove only looked around her at the once-familiar faces. They all now seemed so distorted and frightened. She had known everyone in this town but had never seen them make such faces before. It was almost as if they were strangers to her now. Just what was going on in her little stone-grey cage?

Not paying attention in front of her and only running to keep up with her mother’s pace, she ran into her mother’s hips.

“Mummy?” she called up to her, rubbing her face. Her mother remained frozen stiff, not moving. Suddenly the woman pulled her by the arm even rougher than before and hid behind a nearby wooden stall that was now deserted. Crouching in the snow on her knees, her mother pulled her close and tightly and demanded her to be quiet.

Vylina’s range of vision was limited but she saw when they landed; a storm of arrows. Hundreds of them rained down from the skies, landing in the snow with a hundred sighs. Some landed right on the stall they hid behind with large thuds and others landed in the backs and legs of people who were fleeing and screaming. Some who got hit erupted with an even louder scream than those who didn’t, although others just fell and went limp instantly instead.

“Mum. What’s happ - ” her mother closed her mouth with a hand before she could finish the words.

A moment passed with no sound being heard except for the dying screams of those who were not lucky enough to be killed in the volley but only injured. Somewhere beneath all of that, she heard singing. The voice got closer and closer with every step, but she did not know the words of this song; it was not any she had ever heard.

And when calamity came for them all,

They say it’ll start in the north.

And when man decided they’ll fight it back,

Is when man will fall

The singing was slow and deep, but the words seemed odd to the Little Dove although she could not say why. When the singing finally stopped, a boot appeared in her field of vision, just past the edge of the stall. Her mother clasped her hand even tighter around her mouth then and the man just continued walking by, having not noticed them.

Then, another man emerged; and then a third. Soon enough, countless men walked past the two without noticing them hidden behind the stall. All of them wore dark fur clothing that looked worn-out from years of use. And all of them carried weapons; mainly bows in their hands, but Vylina saw the occasional sword or axe at their waist. The screaming and dying laid strewn about only to be silenced with a swift swing of one of the men’s weapons as they carried on to the next; not once saying a word. With each voice that was silenced, she felt her mother tremble with fear; but she herself remained eerily still and calm.

It was only after they had all passed that her mother looked down to her and whispered. “Bandits. Bandits have come to Kolsted. We must hurry and find your father, child. Come!”

As they rose, her mother resumed dragging her, but she did not resist this time. Vylina’s mind was only focused on one thing and that was the sight behind her; the butchery they were now running away from. There, they laid the dead and dying but she felt no fear like her mother did. Instead, those blue eyes gleamed with curiosity.