Willow

Reader, you may want a story with magic in it, and you have chosen well. You may want a story that is happy all the way through, and you have not chosen well, for this story may be depressing for you. But, remember reader, every cloud has it's silver lining.1

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The forest was empty.3

    Her footsteps crunched through the snow, breaking the stillness of the forest. By her side walked a proud white horse, it's coat gleaming in the dark. It was eerily silent, the snow adding to the strange atmosphere.4

A long time ago, the girl had appeared. She knew nothing about her family. Can you imagine this, reader? She only had a name. Willow.5

   After a time of walking, Willow stumbled across a pool. Strangely, it was not frozen. She looked into it's depths and saw a pale, serious face with black eyes flecked with green sparks of crackling energy. Tossing her wave of hair behind her shoulders, that was as black as a raven's wing, Willow dipped her face into the pool, shattering the mirror-like surface. Icy water surrounded her. Refreshed, Willow stood up and stooped under a branch that was groping at her hair. She approached a fallen tree and carefully sat upon it. Laying her hand on the trunk, she whispered some strange words. Moss grew across the log forming a temporary bed. These powers came naturally to her, reader, like breathing comes naturally to a human.6

   'Willow, where shall I sleep?' asked a polite voice from behind her. 7

   'I am sorry, Mendos, it was inconsiderate of me. I shall make a bed for you too,' replied Willow, standing up wearily. Mendos and Willow had come along a long way, further than you or I will ever travel. They had been travelling for years, almost five now. In many villages that they had arrived at, they were called 'that strange girl with the talking horse'. They had travelled from Garthinia, a place so far away that no one had heard of it in these places. 8

These were the events that led up to her journey. 9

  Once, by the mountain of Dondus, in a small town situated on the outskirts of Garthinia, a farmer and his wife were looking for a lost sheep. Trying up the mountain, they heard a baby crying and went to investigate. They found a small baby wrapped in a plain cloth with a small, white foal lying next to her. Around the baby's wrists were many charm bracelets. One had the name 'Willow' spelt out on it. From that day on, they treated her as their own.10

  Through her years of growing, reader, Willow was always the odd one out. None of the children were friends with her.  Many of them thought that she would cast a terrible and haunting spell on them and were actually scared of her. In the dead of the night, Willow could still be heard chanting a strange language.11

  Although no one in the village respected her, the farmer and his wife adored her. They told her stories that they swore were true, of distant clans that were further away than the out skirting forests of Redfort, the country that Garthinia was situated in. Stories like these brought back a distant memory to Willow. She vowed that one day, she would try and find this cult with her trusty horse. Then came that fateful day on her thirteenth birthday. 12

   'Willow, dear, please come here,' called Mrs. Chevetski, the farmer's wife.13

   ' Yes, what is it?' Willow knew that tone of voice. There was something important that she had to say. She fiddled impatiently with the many charm bracelets decorating her wrists.14

   ' Well, you know that we're not your real parents,'15

   ' Yes..' Willow replied cautiously.16

   'The thing is..' Mrs. Chevetski sighed a deep sigh, 'we didn't actually know your parents. We found you on the mountain when looking for a sheep. Please don't be angry. Mendos was with you too.'17

    Willow's face was a mixture of anger and confusion. Found her on the mountain? This couldn't be right.....18

  That, my friend, is how we ended up in the forest of Genur.19