My name is Sayrah Ellemyria Meliamne of House Unicorn, born to an elven father Nivrehm and human mother Zalyndria on a small farm just outside of the city of Denora. We were neither well off, nor poor - but what we had was enough. Our farm rested in a large fertile valley between two mountain ranges that came together to the north. Majestic trees covered their sides and in the fall they turned gold, red and orange, looking as if the mountains were on fire. During the winter months, the snow would blow off the tops of them with large flakes floating down upon us like feathers shaken from a pillow. Our house was made of large planks of wood, weathered by years of sun and rain. It was surrounded on all sides by blooming flowers of every color, filling the air with a sweet perfume. Herbs of all varieties sat in small handmade pots on the front porch grown by gentle, caring hands. Shutters framed the tiny windows and plain white curtains could be seen through the dusty glass. The barn, made from the same type of plank wood as the living quarters, sat off aside the house. It bore the weight of hay each year that had to be stored for the animals as winter food, showing the strain from bowed tiers that held up the massive girders and beams. Animals fed on fresh grass in the pasture as my younger brother, Keldahr, cleaned out stalls and I fixed broken leads and halters for father as he tended to the cattle.

There were always lots to do with father being a merchant, as new animals were always coming in from the nearby town bizarre. Others would leave to be with new owners and would only be with us a short time and it was always hard for me to let go of a horse or cow that I got attached to. Father always told me, "Think of them as sisters and brothers. If they hurt… it is our duty to ease their pain. Treat them with respect and care and in turn they will give unconditional rewards of returned love and companionship." With this belief and my knowledge of animals, I got a job in a large stable in town a few days a week. It was my duty to tend to the horses that had endured miles of grueling mountainous terrain. I healed their wounds and walked out their stiffened and sometimes bruised muscles. Thus, my mother's practiced craft of healing and empathy toward animals was passed on to me, for the purpose of better assisting in this task. With my father's instruction on how to handle the animals without injury that came to our farm, I was able to work with even some of the most stubborn of horses. One was an enormous black workhorse who came in and acted up when it was his time to be shod. I somehow knew that he was feeling anxiety towards what was to occur. His muscles flinched, he threw his head about and the sweat lathered on his chest and neck. Understanding those symptoms, I was able to calm him and coaxed him to lift up his foot on command with no retaliation to the blacksmith. This eased not only the horse's nerves but also mine, knowing that the blacksmith would no longer have to threaten the poor beast. Even if my job as a stable hand was not as prestigious as other positions in town, to me it was the most fulfilling.

Animals were not the only things Father was good at. The stories that he would tell us after one of his long trips would astound us. The four of us gathered near the hearth fire, my brother and I roasted chestnuts on the fire while Father told us about his encounters. Sometimes he even took us out on short trips with him if it was only going to be overnight. We went over the mountains and miles down the road to Vanderia to deliver a roan colored horse and a dozen chickens to an elderly woman who had recently lost a barn full of her stock to fire. She paid my father for the horse but he only charged her for half of the chickens knowing how hard it must have been to endure such a loss. I saw the gratefulness in her eyes as tears came to them and father went on with his work of unloading the small crates of birds off the wagon. My brother took the horse to the barn as I watched the woman carefully take each chicken out - whisper something to it and then gently put it in the new coup. As we left and started back down the old dirt road, father smiled at us but said not a word.

We made camp shortly after in an opening between a grove of fruit trees just off the old dusty trail that we would follow to get home. Keldahr set up the tent and I happily rewarded the horses with a few apples. Father took us out into the forest and showed us what trees were better for firewood, gathering up as much as we could handle, we piled it up by the tent. On these trips he would always let me light the fire with the flint and steel I brought, I suppose he knew it made me feel important. A little later we walked down a path to a moss-covered pond and I found three different plants that I had not seen before. Eager to show my mother, I cut a sample off of each and put them in my backpack to take home. My father had me dig up some worms with a small hand trowel so that we might be able to catch some fish for supper. We sat on the bank of the pond and dipped each one in the water on an old rusty hook attached to a cane pole with some string. I watched the stick wiggle and then father brought up a beautiful fish. It and two more were enough to fill our bellies along with the ripe red apples for a tasty treat afterwards.

Keldahr and Father were talking about what they needed to do when we returned home when I heard a noise in the bushes not too far away. The horses nervously started pulling on their ropes, trying to back away, while father pointed for me to go calm them. Keldahr ran to the tent and fetched father's bow and quiver. Just as father nocked an arrow against the string of the bow a large gray wolf came running towards the horses. I screamed in horror of what I saw as the wolf jumped into the air to attack, at the same moment father let the arrow fly. I clutched my quarterstaff and ducked down, hiding my face, listening as the wolf fell with a thud to the ground yelping in agony. Quickly I grabbed both the leads and walked the frightened horses over by tent closer to the fire to tie them up away from the dying beast. All I heard after that was one more whoosh of the bowstring and then a gurgled sigh. It was over. We sat close to the fire all night, not sleeping a wink for fear that the rest of the pack might come looking for their fallen warrior. I was so tired the next morning, but I was quick to harness the horses so that we could start home right away. It shook my brother and I so much that we talked about that night for months.

Mother understood my being frightened in that ordeal. Before my birth, she was an adventurer and explorer of nature. She was excited when I showed her the unusual plants that I'd found. They were very rare she said and she told me how they were to be used. Her skills as a Druidess still to this day, after almost fifteen years, amaze and surprise me. It was she that taught me how to gather the rare herbs that only the initiated know how to find, to create healing salves and brew potions that ease pain and mend wounds. Her instruction over the years resulted in my ability to call forth the divine power of nature by force of will, to achieve many wonderful things. I do remember once, when I was just learning to create an anesthetic salve, I made an honest but hilarious mistake when having left my work unattended. Keldahr unknowingly came in the kitchen and accidentally made the error of using the thick red substance for jam on his bread. His mouth went numb for hours and we had so much fun picking on him as he slurred everything that he yelled at me. I decided from then on not to use a regular jelly jar to mix my concoctions in.

My mother not only taught me about plants but also about nature in general. I could forecast when rain was coming by the way the leaves turned over on the trees. I learned to watch the wind blow across the frigid mountaintops in the winter and could tell my father when it was going to snow. As the seasons came and went, I followed my mother's teachings as religiously as the Clerics would follow their Gods. Her every word burnt into the pages of my memory. She too was kind to animals and I believe in my heart that she knew and could name almost every species. On our walks to find the rare herbs that we collected, she would test me on the animals that we would encounter. The great horned owl, a field mouse, a poisonous spider were but a few that we saw daily.

Once, we came across an enormous Assassin Vine that tangled itself around my leg. It pulled me down with such force that it knocked the breath out of me. I screamed for my mother and tried to hit it with my quarterstaff but to no avail. It lifted me up and started to slowly squeeze my ankle as a python would squeeze its prey. Mother ran over and threw her pack on the ground, franticly starting to chant something that I had never heard before. Calling on the forces of nature, she screamed out, "Veloria, Goddess of Nature, hear my words!" Kneeling close to the plant as it dangled me upside-down, by one leg in front of her, she started chanting, "Veloria, tua amin! Vanimle sila tiri! Tua amin ndengima ta!" Translation: "Veloria, help me! Your beauty shines bright! Help me kill it!" Tears streamed down her face and the anger was evident as she pursed her lips and shut her eyes. "Insects, I call on you! Veloria, bring me the bees from their hives. Send me the wasps from their nests and raise the hornets from their lairs underground. Kill this beast that threatens the life of my beloved child!"

In the distance, leaves began to rustle through the trees. The wind made its way to my mother and surrounded her. The dried leaves on the ground began to twist around and encircled her as if a tornado was driving them in their dance. A hum began to grow and a dark shadow crept through the forest ever so slowly towards us. Mother stood up and the wind grew stronger and the humming became a deafening tone. She opened her eyes and I was frightened for I had never saw my mother so fierce and wild as she was at this moment. Her long hair twisted about her face as the insects drew closer. The blackened mass enclosed the vine in a roaring swarm, stinging it violently but not touching me. The Assassin Vine writhed in pain, swirling and tossing its free limbs about to try to discourage the insects. I felt it loosen its grip of my leg and I fell to the ground beside my mother. Her eyes were reddened from her crying but a smile appeared on her face when I looked up at her. Grabbing her pack she gestured for me to follow, running a short distance away and then stopping to turn and watch the plant fight for its life. Mother said in a raspy and tired voice, "Look at this and remember. Veloria watches over us, and will guide you on your path to making nature a force of your will. Let this be a reminder of the evils that are abundant and that the powers that we possess." We turned and left the plant to suffer its demise alone in the forest and the buzzing began to fade with every step we took.

That evening I felt like being alone, so a few hours before dark I took my backpack and rode out on one of the horses we owned. I traveled up the path that father always took on his way out of the valley. The hooves of the horse made a dull thump on the dirt road as we galloped up the slope of the mountain. The trees waved at us as we went by and the smell of honeysuckle filled my nostrils. As we turned the corner to go down the other side, the horse was startled by something. He spun around, reared up and almost threw me off. I jumped from his back and grabbed onto the reins as he shook his head. Backing him up from the direction that he seemed to be afraid of, I then tied him to a large limb of a tree that had grown down towards the ground as if it wanted to touch the soft earth. I calmed him and then cautiously went toward the grass that was moving beneath an old tree. It had a gaping hole in the top of it some fifteen feet over my head and the limbs were gnarled and twisted. Bird droppings coated the side of the tree and the foulest stench reached up that almost made me sick.

As I drew nearer I saw the movement was caused by something white and small. I slowly crept up on it and found to my surprise it was a small owl lying in the grass, panting from the futile struggle to get back to the tree. It must have fallen out of the nest above and was still yet too young to fly. My thoughts were immediately of an animal coming by and making a meal out of the owl, so without hesitation I took off my backpack and brought out a burlap sack. I always kept one with me, just in case I'd find plants or herbs that Mother and I could use. Walking over to the exhausted bird, it squawked and opened its beak to bite me but I threw the sack over it and covered the owl's whole body. I tied the end of it and gently placed it in my backpack, leaving it slightly open for the owl to breathe. With the owl now safe in my possession, I ran back over to the horse, put my foot in the stirrup and flung my leg over his back. We took off for home, around the corner and down the hill not stopping until we made it to the front of the barn.

Father had just come out of the paddock and I yelled for him to come look. He made his way past the chickens that were waiting to be fed and put up for the night, asking where I had been. I told him about the horse being frightened, the tree with the hole, and the bird that I had in my backpack. Father was a little angry with me for bothering with the wild bird but understood it was my compassion for animals that lead me to do it. He instructed me to put the tiny owl in the barn and lock it in the tack room so that no animals would get to it. Mother came in as I had just finished fixing a nest for it with some hay from an opened bale and a large wooden box that had no lid. "I hear you have another addition to the family," she said. I started to apologize but she stopped me and smiled. Mother looked in on the small owl and said, "This must be a gift from Veloria. It is a snow owl, very rare in these parts. They are said to be an indication of change for the one who sees it while traveling. You, my child, have been given a sign and you will have to meditate on its reason. For now, we must see if it is injured." She cooed at the bird and started rocking back and forth, slowly waving her hands over the box. From the silence arose a beautiful song and the owl began to listen. Mother kept singing and gently reached in and picked up the owl. It made no attempt to bite her but gazed upon her quietly, still listening to her music. She looked it over carefully as it lay in her lap, then she spread its wings to check it thoroughly. Tenderly she lay the bird back down and said, "Well, it is a male and he doesn't seem hurt. Maybe the grass padded his fall." She told me to follow her to the house as that we might find something that I could give it to eat. A little while later, after I placed the food and water in with the tiny white owl, I locked the door behind me and went to bed.

The next morning I ran out to the barn to check on the snow owl. He looked stronger and stumbled around in the hay trying to get to the back of the box away from me. I dropped a little more raw meat in the small clay bowl as he watched with big golden eyes. Before I could get my hand out of the box he'd hopped over and began to eat. I needed to give him water but I was a little afraid he would bite me. Knowing I needed to get back in the house for my studies with mother, I slowly poured the cool liquid into the other small clay bowl. He didn't try to bite me but backed away, keeping his eyes on my every move. "I'll be back later to check on you," I told him and then ran out, locking the door behind me. It was hard for me to concentrate on any of my lessons, much less my chores that needed to be done but Mother promised me a surprise if I did well. It was always fun practicing the Druidic language. We would talk about father and brother, befuddled that they couldn't understand what we were saying. They always knew we were up to no good when we started laughing and staring at them but they were used to it. Mother had been teaching me the Druid's tongue many years now to carry on the tradition passed on from her mother. In addition to my being taught the Druidic language, Keldahr and I were also taught Elven and Common by our father. Since the time we both were little, father always spoke to us in Elven and then told us what it meant in Common. It was very important to him that we learn to communicate in both languages of our heritage. Mother didn't keep me as long as she usually did knowing my excitement and that I wanted to go back out to the barn.

She kissed my forehead and said, "Before you go, my sweet child, I have that surprise for you now." Mother went to her room and brought out a thick tan leather gauntlet. "Use this when you handle the owl so it won't bite or scratch you." She then handed me a small rope-like object that ended with a tiny buckle. Her father had a hawk that he used for hunting when mother was a young girl. The hawk died years ago, and she put them away for the time when its use might be needed again. I kissed her and ran to the barn as fast as I could. When I peeked in the room, the snow owl was sitting on the edge of the makeshift nest as if perched on a tree limb. I walked over to it with the gauntlet on and slowly reached out. The bird snapped at the glove but I managed to grab him up. With care, I strapped the tiny belt onto his leg and then let him up. Since he couldn't fly yet, he flapped and screeched but was unable to get away from me. I had brought a few small pieces of rabbit meat with me and offered him one. He stared at it with those wonderful golden eyes and opened his beak. I slowly drew my hand nearer to his mouth and 'snap'… he got my finger.

All I could do was react and I jumped, dropping him on the hard dirt floor. He lay there not moving and I screamed. "Oh, Veloria! What have I done?" Tears welled up in my eyes and I was so distraught from hurting him that I thought my heart would break. "Oh please help me… I don't know what to do." I couldn't run and get Mother because I was attached to the bird by the leather cording. I picked him up, held him close, and finally realized he was still alive. "Veloria, don't let him die. Please help me!" I then felt an overwhelming amount of energy pass through me. My hands warmed and a cool breeze came gently blowing through my long black hair. The owl started to wiggle in my arms and I was completely amazed. He opened his eyes and looked up at me, no longer with fear but caution. I held him tight and ran to Mother, telling her all of what had happened. At first she didn't believe me but I then went into detail about what I felt. She said, "I think you finally found your own way of channeling Veloria's power through you. You have done wonderfully, my sweet Sayrah." She patted my back in congratulations and told me that it looked as if our study time was going to be a little longer from now on.

From that day forward, I was much more careful with the owl that I eventually named Bubo. He learned to trust me and always waited in the barn for his treats that I would sneak to him. Father would tell me as he laughed, "You are going to feed him so much that he'll never learn to fly. His backside will be too plump." I knew that I could get him to fly, and fly he did, after a little persuasion. We went out into the field where the horses grazed and I sat him on a post. Walking a short distance away from the owl, I called for him. At first, Bubo jumped off the post onto the ground and hopped to me for his treat, though in the beginning it wasn't by recognition of his name. As the months went by he jumped further, flapping his growing wings, and seemed to actually respond to the name I had given him. Once he learned that he had the ability to take wing, it wasn't too long that he was soaring in the air above me as I rode through the field on one of the horses. He even learned to come to me on horseback, perching on my shoulder as the horse walked. Any faster than that though and he couldn't hold on but would take flight gliding above my head.

I tried to get him to sleep in his box but he was outgrowing it, so we let him have the run of the whole barn. Sleeping at the highest section where the crossbeams joined, Bubo seemed comfortable and even lined it with some loose hay. My lessons with mother were longer and more tiring but I learned so much in the next few years, and I wouldn't have traded one moment of it for the world. I realized that I could call on nature's power to have fresh drinking water fill my waterskin. At first, I was unable to control it completely because it sometimes filled up too much and spilled over onto the ground, usually soaking my feet. When I tried again, I only achieved a few ounces. I practiced months on it before I got my concentration centered to where I could get it right almost every time. Another ability that I eventually learned was how to cast light, though the first time was by sheer accident and it scared me half to death. I walked in the deeper forest, far from the house, not realizing how late it was getting. Bubo flew from tree to tree and stayed right overhead, watching my every move. I picked some herbs for mother and some flowers for the kitchen table. Due my lack of attention, I ended up getting caught out there in the dark. I could barely see and was quite afraid I'd not be able to find my way home. A flashback of that awful vine that attacked me came to mind and my hands started shaking.

I had left my torch and flint back at the house. That was something I didn't usually do, but mother needed so many things from the woods that I had to make room in my backpack. I called, "Veloria, please give me light to see. I must find my way home to Mother. She'll be so worried about me." I concentrated for a few seconds and then out of nowhere my quarterstaff looked as if it had caught on fire. I threw it down and felt as if my pounding heart would burst in my chest. "Oh no, what have I done now!" I exclaimed as I looked at my clothes to make sure they had not ignited too. I watched the light dance on the wood but felt no heat emanating from it. I moved closer to study it, cautiously reaching out my hand to test the reaction of the strange illumination. I was so close that my fingers were in the aura of the light, which was like air to the touch and not fire at all. I drew a deep breath in and reached out to pick up the staff. I didn't burn me, nor was the wood harmed in any manner - I was in awe of the sight. Looking around, I could see about 10 feet in all directions, so I started off for home proudly with my shining quarterstaff in hand. As I neared the house I heard Father yell in a stern voice, "Who goes there?"

I yelled back, "Father, it is I, Sayrah." When I reached the house my brother made fun of me about getting stuck out in the woods. Mother, on the other hand, was quite pleased with what I had done although she had worried herself to the point of nearly being sick. Father just shook his head and said as he walked in the door, "Supper is at dusk. Let's not be late for that anymore, shall we?" I grinned and lowered my head, showing respect to his proclamation. As soon as he was back in the house, mother and I went in to the kitchen so that she could wash my hair in the basin. As she poured the cold water over my head, I told her about my thinking that I had caught myself on fire and she confirmed that she'd done almost the same thing.

As the seasons passed I grew taller and blossomed into a young woman. I was now more in tune with my surroundings and was able to call on the power of nature with ease from all the guidance mother had given me. Bubo and I had become the closest of friends. He never left my side except to go up high in his perch to sleep. With Keldahr's help, I had managed to teach Bubo to go where I pointed. My brother would put a piece of meat on a fence pole and I would hold Bubo so that he had to wait. I looked at him, pointed, and said, "Go Bubo." I let him take wing and he flew over to the fence, landed then ate his reward. Being that food was involved it was not hard to teach him that trick. After a few months, I could point to a tree and he would fly over, sit on the branch and wait to be called back for his reward. I made sure to keep some soft jerky in my backpack at all times, just for him.

That next spring when the newborn animals were ready to be taken from their mothers, our neighbor, a gnome named Zhevil Greenbottle, came to the farm to talk to father. He was an older man; the lines on his darkly tanned face were like tracts in the dirt of a freshly tilled farmland, with long unkempt white hair and a short scruffy beard. He too was a merchant, and his farm lay only five miles from our home. We saw him often over the years and I had grown up playing with his sons and daughter. He and father sat by the hearth, planning their yearly trip to Tronmaar for the enormous stock sale and trade bazaar held annually, called the Festival of the Artificer. Together they discussed the dealings they expected and then Zhevil departed. Father began taking inventory of the stock he intended to take to sell or trade, while mother and I sat anxiously awaiting the list of those that would be leaving the farm or remaining. This time, more than any other, was the hardest. Even though one of our animals may have been here for years, if it did not earn its keep on the farm it would likely end up on the list. I remember two seasons ago, the cow that father had bought for mother went dry and no longer gave milk. He gave mother a choice of filling the pantry with plentiful salted meat, or to take the cow to market and have no direct link to her likely demise.

The day arrived for them to leave for Tronmaar and we were all up with the rooster's call. Father had already been up extra early loading animals onto a huge wagon, as Keldahr tied the larger animals to the back. Zhevil Greenbottle's buckboards rounded the curve and popped into view. He gave a whistle to father as if to say good morning and father cheerily returned the call. Aboard his wagons were his two older sons. They would bring the buckboards back home from the docks after seeing their father off, as Keldahr would for our own. Mother handed father a small pack with some food and some healing salve. She gave him a long kiss and then said a little prayer as she had always done every time before. Keldahr said his goodbyes too and climbed onto the wagon. Mother and I stood quietly as we watched the caravan of wagons and animals disappear over the crest of the hill. In the background there was only the lonely cry of a cow bawling for her calf, for it was one of the chosen to go on the long journey.

While Keldahr was away, mother and I had to do all of the farm work. We were happy to see him when he finally returned, because we were both worn to a frazzle by the time he got back. He told us that Mr. Greenbottle and father were on their way safely and all the animals made it to the docks without incident. One year past, father had a mare that tripped and fell behind the wagon, she had broken her leg and he was forced to put her down. Thus, we were well pleased to hear the news that the trip was made with safe arrival and no trouble this time. Now was the long wait, for they had to go by ship to Tronmaar to do their trading. The next few months were tiresome because of not having father around to do some of the more difficult jobs such as mending the broken fence sections around the pasture.

One day, Keldahr came running into the cottage during my studies, yelling to me, "Come on Sayrah, the cows are out again!" I hurried through the door and saw all the cows scattered about the yard and unfenced areas of the farm. I fetched my favorite horse Alta Mor. His name meant 'Big Black', given to him because he was a large draft horse with long fur around his ankles that covered his enormous hooves and his color was as black as pitch. I tacked him up and took off through the gate to herd up the runaways, his large feet pounding the ground like thunder. Keldahr raised a temporary fence made of some extra gates and one by one the cows funneled into the makeshift paddock. I gathered up the remainder of the herd and my brother quickly made the last adjustments to the enclosure so they would not get loose while we made repairs to the outside fences. I put the horse in a stall to let him cool, and fed him fresh oats for all this hard work that day. When I returned outside, Bubo was waiting on the fence for his treat too, because he had flown over the cows as I drove them in. A piece of soft jerky was his reward, and he accepted it gently.

Keldahr came over with a hammer in one hand and a bag of nails in the other. It was time to set about making all the repairs to the fence so we could put the cows back out to graze where they belonged. So, I picked up the nail-puller and a spool of wire, setting out with my brother across the field to begin our work. Keldahr grabbed the end of the torn fence, while I lifted the sagging middle section several posts away. He hammered a nail in and started to fuss at me, reaching around to feel in his pockets, he looked at me and spoke. "Where did you put that confounded nail-puller?" I said, "I have it." I began to let go of the sagging fence in my hands and he quickly shook his head. He told me that I couldn't release the fence or it would end up lopsided and we'd be out here again doing the same thing in no time. I couldn't throw the small tool that far, so we stood there for a moment pondering on how to get him the tool.

Just about that time, Bubo came down and landed on the post in front of me, giving me an idea on how to meet our need. With one hand I held up the fence, and with my other I took out the tool from the pocket of my skirt. I pushed it carefully under Bubo's clawed foot and he twisted his feathery head to look at me with a strange gaze. I pointed at the tool, then pointed to Keldahr and said, "Bubo go." He took to wing, leaving the tool behind, provoking my brother to laugh loudly at my effort. He said, "That stupid bird can't do that." Bubo landed over on the post by Keldahr and waited. I called him back over to show him the nail-puller again, shoving it under his foot once more, I said, "Bubo take!" I saw faintly the glimmer of understanding in his bright eyes. Another gentle push of the tool to reinforce the idea of the command, and off he flew with the item firmly grasped by his clawed foot. Bubo got close to the post and as he landed he dropped the heavy tool directly on Keldahr's foot. My brother yelled out in surprise and pain, while all I could do was giggle at the sight. I called Bubo back over, gave him a small kiss and a salted meat reward afterward for his newly found talent. We finished up the fence, took care of the animals, and then went in the house for a late supper.

In only a few months, I had refined the command for Bubo's new trick, saying, "Bubo drop!" All I needed to do was point in the direction of where I wanted the item he carried to be released, and he was usually intuitively on the mark. Keldahr soon learned of the full extent of it when I decided to pull a prank on him. I gathered up the eggs from the chicken coupe, as I did every morning and evening, the first and last of my chores. This time I called Bubo over and placed one of the smaller eggs by his clawed foot. I pointed at Keldahr and whispered to my feathered friend, "Bubo drop!" He took wing, flew several feet over top of my brother, and dropped the egg squarely upon his head. It broke, and yolk streamed down his face - bright red with embarrassment and anger. I took off running for the cottage, basket of eggs swinging in hand, belly-laughing the entire way. Mother was amused even though she tried her best not to laugh. I had made my point to Keldahr, and nevermore would he call my Bubo "That stupid bird."

Early one morning as mother, Keldahr and I ate breakfast, we heard faint sounds of wagon wheels. I jumped up and anxiously gazed out the window hoping to see my father returning home. They had been gone so long and all of us were excited for both Mr. Greenbottle and father to arrive. I ran out onto the porch awaiting them, but only saw Zhevil and his sons. "Good Morrow to you Mr. Greenbottle," Mother said as she waved. He smiled faintly and worked his way off the old wagon. Mother had a worried look on her face, "Where is Nivrehm?" she asked. Mr. Greenbottle went on to explain that he had made other arrangements to stay in Tronmaar for a little while longer. There was talk of a large quantity of exotic animals coming in and he wanted to try and take advantage of being there for it, as it only would delay him another week. Mother knew how father was always interested in gaining as much from his investments, and this was a great opportunity. She understood, though was disappointed, and they walked over to Zhevil's wagon. He showed her his stock that he was able to acquire through his trades and they talked awhile. He handed her a small pouch, which later Keldahr and I learned that it was money father had sent home to us. Shortly after their talk, Mr. Greenbottle and his sons took off for home and we went about our business of the daily chores.

During this time Keldahr had been doing some local trading to keep money coming in and I was still working at the stable, although I had cut down to two days a week because of having to tend to the farm more. Things were going smoothly at the house but Mother was getting worried, for father had been gone far too long. She asked me to go talk to Mr. Greenbottle and see if he was going to be making another trip to Tronmaar anytime soon. If so, I was to ask his help in finding father. I grabbed Alta Mor, only putting a bridle on him this time, setting out for Zhevil's home. The five-mile journey was made in no time, with Bubo hovering close above. As I topped the hill and started over, I looked back and watched the farm disappear behind the trees and rock.

The trip was not too uncomfortable and I made it to Mr. Greenbottle's home without incident. His older son, Sirion, met me at the barn and asked what was wrong. I explained to him the situation and he led me in the house to speak with his father. Zhevil said in surprise as soon as he saw me, "Goodness, Sayrah, you rode a long way. Is something wrong?" I told him that father had still not come home and asked him if he was returning to Tronmaar. Unfortunately, he had no plans of going again until next year because he had too many prospects around Denora. I told him of my fear that something had happened to him and a faint frown came over his face as he said, "I am sorry, my dear, but I can't leave. My family's welfare depends on my staying here and trading. I can't just go off looking for a man that is obviously not ready to come home yet." I sternly looked at him and asked, "What do you mean by 'not ready to come home'?" He patted me on the head and told me that in time I would understand. I felt that I had overstayed my welcome, "I bid you good day Mr. Greenbottle," my words given with a hint of frustration. As I went out to mount Alta Mor, Sirion ran out of the house yelling, "Wait for me! Father wants me to come with you."

We took to the winding dirt road once more and talked all the way back to the farm. During the ride, he told me what his father meant in saying what he had spoken to me. It was due father's race, being an Elf and living such long lives they sometimes get bored with their situations and need something different for a little while. He said it was to spice things up so that he wouldn't want to leave mother. I glared at him, face getting red with anger, and said, "You are lying. Father would never be unfaithful to mother. In fact, before he left he told her that she was the sunshine that touched his face each morning and that he would think of her every moment while he was away." He took a quick glimpse back at me and just shook his head slowly, moving his attention down to the ground because he could no longer look me in the eye. I was devastated and he knew it. Silence fell between us, and nothing more was said until we reached my house.

Mother greeted Sirion with a wave and smile and I just rode past her with a look of utter disgust on my face. She asked him what was wrong but he wouldn't tell her. Mother knew something was amiss though, despite the lack of communication. Later on I confronted mother about the whole thing and she saw that I was upset, so she let me have my say. As always, my mother knew just what to tell me to make the situation seem fine, but I just couldn't shake the thought of father with someone else. Each day that followed was like a hot piece of coal that burned in the pit of my stomach and I came to the realization that no one else was going to do anything about it. So that's when I decided, if anyone was going to deal with this, it would be me. I sat in the barn by myself every afternoon before my studies and planned my trip. I hid my backpack behind a bale of hay and made sure to put extra jerky in it for Bubo. My quarterstaff was propped up beside the door of the barn, so that it would be easily accessible when I was ready to leave. I had everything I needed for my trip and all that remained was to pick my time for departure.

A few nights later after dinner, I excused myself early and went off to bed. I lay there waiting for mother and Keldahr to retire and when the house was quiet, I made my move. I left a note of apology on my bed, tiptoed out the back door and hurried over to the barn. Quickly I gathered my things and, in a loud whisper, called for Bubo to come down from his perch. He didn't respond the first time, I suppose he had been hunting but with the second call he flew in from outside and landed on my shoulder. I handed him a reward, grabbed my staff and we started out into the night. I waited until we were out of sight of the house and then lit a torch that I had stuffed in my backpack to light our way.

As I walked in the dark with only the torch lighting up the sides of nearby trees, I thought back to the night that father, Keldahr and I came in contact with the wolf he had to kill. I got a chill down my back and my paces quickened. Bubo left my shoulder and tended to a small moving meal that was waiting in a tuft of slender grass. I had to stop and watch him so nothing would make a meal out of my owl. After he was finished filling his belly we went on, not stopping until we reached the fruit trees where father would always have us camp. It was nearing daylight and I knew I needed some sleep, so I curled up under one of the large trees and laid my head on my backpack. I closed my eyes and listened to the chirps of crickets to comfort my fear. Bubo found a limb close by and we both soon were off to dreamland.

I awoke to the sound of wagon wheels and horse hooves. I grabbed up my backpack but not soon enough for I had been spotted by an old peddler who was passing by. He called out and asked where I was headed and I told him, "To the port town of Vesti." He offered me a ride because he was on his way there to finish up his trading and said his name was Aman. He had been up north to a town called Virrana, which was a military town and he had just picked up some nice armor. Knowing that I was going to have to travel far and maybe come up against some nasty creatures as in the past, I traded him a small canister of healing salve and an adequate amount of coinage for a nice new set of leather armor. Soon we came to the Terrazo Falls and had to take the steep but frequently traveled trail down the side to Medocco, the rich gold mining city.

Aman stopped briefly to make a few trades and I ate some fruit that I had stashed away in my backpack. Bubo, of course, was not modest and got his fill of mice in a nearby vacant lot. Soon we were on our way again and Aman bragged on his good fortune of his profitable trades he had made. We traveled on until we finally made it to our destination, the port town of Vesti. I hopped off the old wagon and wished him good trading. He smiled and took off down the road leaving me to find a ship that would take me to Tronmaar. I walked through rows of tables where merchants set up their wares from far away lands. The street was crowded and I had to push my way through finally getting a glimpse of the shipyard. This was the first time I had ever seen such a site in my life. Hundreds of masts stood tall against the color of the setting sun and flags waved gently in the cool ocean breeze. Talking to many people on the docks, I finally found a ship that was headed for Tronmaar and went to inquire if there would be room for Bubo and me. The man looked at me in an unbecoming manner and I got an uncomfortable feeling. He demanded payment before we took to sea and so I obliged him and gave the proper amount required.

As I boarded the ship I looked over the edge of the gangplank and trembled. Summoning all the courage I could, I went to find a suitable place to make my own for the long journey. I had never learned to swim, the rocking boat reminded me often of my fear the water, but I was determined to find father. Calling for Bubo, I finished my ascent up the narrow board to the main deck. I was able to get down into the cargo hold with the help of a deck hand to show me the way. I took Bubo with me, for his safety, and we made ourselves comfortable on a large bundled mass of sheep's wool. It smelled horrible but was soft and warm, which was just what I needed for a good night's sleep. This was the first time either one of us had sailed, so I had Bubo stay next to me and I hollowed out a little nest in the wool for him. We fell asleep and I dreamed of how Tronmaar would be and if I could find father. It seemed a brief lifetime before we reached the shipyard and I thought of my mother and how worried she must be. As I left the ship with Bubo on my shoulder, I hoped that it wouldn't be long before I found my father and then we could make the journey back home together. I left the crowed masses of the dock, behind me the sights and sounds of the shipyard faded… I was now on my quest.