…

  The outskirts of the city are where they pnned on going. The city itself was rge, with the ke of Fraellfae that the city had been named after, to its west. That was the way they were going.

  Aivan held the right hand of his fast friend, Vistilia. In his own right hand, he held his mother’s hand. The three of them were going to the local cy pit, to gather cy for pottery. As one could imagine, this was a rather long trek. It took about three hours to trek all the way from his own home, to the area that they needed to be in.

  Yet, as they walked, the three of them didn’t get bored. Instead, Aivan spoke. He spoke of his different interests, the other two already knew them. He spoke of the way that buildings were constructed and ways he thought could make them better.

  At multiple different times, Vistilia spoke out, and told him that he had already stated several of the ideas. The gifted seven-year-old simply stopped talking then and moved onto different topics. His mother, who was smiling, simply looked at their conversation.

  She was happy that he had a friend that he could talk to. The st friend that he had that also spoke with him, and was this patient with him, had recently passed due to the flu. He had mourned the boy a great deal. Yet, he had moved on quickly, and that unnerved many kids.

  Yet, when the small girl had walked out of her house on her own for the first time, all of a sudden, and started to converse with her son. Well, at first she was concerned. The girl was rumored to be touched by a barbarous god.

  Yet, she hadn’t done anything to warrant such bad rumors. Of course, she was rather strange. Being a three-year-old and talking as if she was much older was rather strange, after all. The way she walked was as if she had walked for many years. She also talked like she was much older, and wiser.

  Maybe it was simply the fact that she was Death Touched? That was probably it. As the mother zoned back in on the conversation, she noticed that the girl wasn’t looking at the road anymore. She usually did when they walked like this, so as to not trip.

  No, she was looking at her son in the eyes. The boy barely seemed to notice. She simply shook her head in exasperation. Boys will be boys, and if the small girl had the smallest of crushes on her d, then that was fine.

  …

  Finally, it had taken a rather long time to even get to the cy pit, yet here they were. The city was at their backs, and the cy pit was to their front. Thaia, who the author had nearly forgotten the name of, stood there with her basket at her side.

  The cy pit was a rather big thing. It was about ten feet deep, and thirty feet wide. It had just recently been dug up, and the cy was still fresh, at least somewhat. Being right near the ke, it had formed rather pure and clean cy.

  “Ok you two, go py. I need to gather this for the pottery,” she said while waving the two of them off.

  Vistilia nodded her head and made to go to the shores of the ke. Aivan, meanwhile, followed her closely. In all actuality, their retionship had Vistilia lead most of the time.

  As she and he reached the shore, Vistilia made sure to check how far away from the only adult she knew was out here was. Aivan, meanwhile, had decided to py in the sand. His hands running through the sand.

  After checking how far away she was, Vistilia went to py as well. Of course, it wasn’t true py. It was mostly just starting games and making sure that Aivan didn’t hurt himself.

  “Let’s make a sand fort,” she said, and the other child nodded his head in response.

  The day came and went. They pyed many games in that time as well. From making simple buildings out of sand, to other games that had to do with sand. Vistilia wasn’t that creative, in retrospect. The only thing she had ever done as a kid in her old life was make sandcastles.

  “Alrighty kids,” Thaia spoke from where she kneeled, “Let’s get back home,” she said, and got up while carrying a rather filled container of cy.

  The two of them nodded their heads, and made to move after her. Yet, something stopped the both of them. It was a sound. A sound that Vistilia had never heard before. Yet, as it reached the three’s ears, Thaia quickened her pace.

  “Let’s go children. It’s time to get to the city again,” she said as the sounds of horns entered their ears.

  It was a raiding horn. The city was under attack. Vistilia realized this, maybe too te as she heard footsteps and marching come from both up, and down the riverbank. Her pace quickened, unlike Aivan’s, as she made her way to Thaia.

  The sounds coming from the side of the riverbank that was nearer was rather regimented, like they were trained, whichever side they were. The other side was simply the sounds of running and charging feet. It was clear who was who.

  “Let’s go then. Let’s get back home,” she said as she gripped the other woman’s hand.

  …

  They had nearly reached the gates, just a couple of hundred yards to go. The day was over, the sun was starting to dip, when an arrow thunked into the ground by the small girl’s feet.

  Her heart turned to ice as she started to run. Quickly looking back at what was behind her. there was a man.

  He was a rather normal looking man. Other than the crude, yet effective looking bow in his hands, his stature was like any other man’s. There was just one small issue. His face, he had a rather rge and evil grin upon it.

  An axe was slung on his belt. Yet despite being a raider, it had yet to be bloodied. The man charged forward after he flung his ranged weapon to the ground, and pulled his axe free of his belt.

  “Give me you! Give me that nice looking basket and kid!” he shouted out in English, as that seemed to be the nguage that the barbarians used.

  It was then that someone hopped off of the wall from which the guards looked on a busied themselves with their rescue from. He rolled as he fell and hit the ground, his spear flying from his hand as soon as he stood.

  It was her father. His stature was tall, his face was keen, and rage was in his eyes. It was easy to see why, the raider had just demanded his daughter.

  …

  Zogsalken