Eona felt like the wind. She felt like she could fly, though her feet never left the ground. Beneath her thundering hooves hills and mountains breezed by. She knew little other than the wind in her mane and the sun at her back. She was feral, wild and free, the Valley princess.
Today, the familiar scents were on the wind. There was pine and dirt after a heavy rain. There was the earthy scent of moss and the sharp scent of water. There was the familiar, heady aroma of the wolf pack, of her father who often roamed with them.
But, there was something else as well, something sharp and bitter that clawed at Eona’s nose. Blood, it was the scent of blood and fear. Without missing a beat the lithe, carefree, reckless girl changed directions and cleanly leapt off the side of the mounting, slipping and sliding her way into the herd lands. Her dark form broke through the trees in time to see her brother collapse to his knees.
Eona’s heart was wild, quick to jump to conclusions, but even it had not been touched by the full realization of blood and fear. Whatever it was would be handled, and it would be handled before the chaos that caused it was allowed to wash over her hooves. She trusted her father to make things right, she trusted her mother to see to the mess. She had never dreamed of a world in which her brother would be on his knees, covered in blood.
Eona, the female reflection of her father and brother, danced into their midst streaked with sweat. She looked at Kryten’s face with round, fearful eyes. She kept glancing between them, her father and brother, fear turning into outraged denial.
“Father!” She screamed, her voice coming off as petulant and childish in her fear.
“Kryten, you can’t mean —“ She trailed off, her mouth opening and closing in disbeleif.
“You can’t be saying —“ Again, she trailed off, for she could not say it, would not say it. Her mother was dead.
with a crown of midnight and a blanket of stars
Eona
The Valley's wayfaring daughter
