Elizeus flew fast, almost as fast as one of the spotted winged cats that roamed the skies and savannahs of the Kitar region in the far western corner of Astos. Of course Evony had never seen one, let alone watched one run, but she had heard about them from people like Eria, Daesyn, and Vanya.

Evony had grown up in the caravan; they'd taken care of her ever since she was orphaned at six by the roaming hordes just a year after the death of Queen Photine and subsequently the crumbling of her kingdom of Astos.

Evony remembered little of her childhood before the caravan. Her memories came in brief flashes and often seemed unrelated. Evony remembered the cool bite of metal that curved gently against her index finger, followed by a loud noise. She remembered a man's voice--her father, she thought--thanking Vanadey for her forest's bounty and offering a piece of their hunt to the faeries and elves of the Old Religion.

Evony, unlike the majority of Astos, still believed in the Old Religion. It centered around Vanadey, the Lady of the Forest, who was Queen of all the faeries, elves, and creatures of the land. The faeries were trouble makers who enjoyed playing jokes and tricks on Aviarius--Evony's people--they were tiny and had small doses of magic. The elves were Forest Keepers, they served Vanadey by caring for the forest and her creatures and the goddess herself. When the Old Religion had faded, Vanadey had been christened a Saintess.

Along with the memories of cold and of metal, there were the memories of another voice: delicate, light, and feminine that sang as a small house filled with heat and the aroma of spices. It was memories like those that Evony wished to hold close, but mixed in with the memories of loving--if not a little bone-crushing--hugs were the ones of red blood staining pristine snow and monstrous men chasing a little barefoot Evony through the forest she had learned how to walk, hunt, live, and love in.

Evony tended to force herself to turn back towards those warm, cozy memories. Cozy. She thought. That was a good word to describe my old life, and a horrible one to describe my life now.

"See anything?" It was Elizeus' voice, gently pulling Evony from her reverie. She was glad for it, she didn't like dwelling on such nasty thoughts. Evony blinked back steaming crimson droplets splashing on white snow and melting holes in the cold, fluffy powder, and looked around the grove of trees.

Oak trees, maybe. Evony thought. They were nothing like the pine trees and evergreens that had made up the forests of her home in the foothills of the Saldso Mountains--the very mountains where the triplets (Isolde, Kirsi, and Eira) hailed from. The trees were just one of the many differences that came with being adopted into the caravan.

Evony scanned the clearing behind the trees, nothing appeared to be there, just shrubs and smooth grassy plains. "Seems clear to me." Evony remarked, watching from a step behind as Elizeus surveyed the circular plot of land.

His gaze was intense and focused, but as it wasn't focused on her, Evony looked Elizeus up and down. Elizeus spoke the least--save maybe Isolde--in camp, so not much was gleaned from him. But, his younger brother Altin loved to talk and their story was common knowledge.

Their mother had died giving birth to Altin; their father had been a merchant who sold a variety of goods, with flora from the western savannahs being the best-selling item. They'd been nearing the capital the day the Queen died and in the months after the dissolution of the government by the warlords. Altin had been three; Elizeus, nine. The boys' father had been robbed and killed by a gang.

During the next part of the story, Altin would bring his voice down low--trying to recreate the suspense and tension that Daesyn's stories had--and proclaim how the boys (for that's what the gang members had been) had tried to take Elizeus with them, but Altin's older brother had rose up and fought them off, saving Altin and Elizeus himself.

Altin made it all sound so dramatic and heroic; when Evony had first heard the story, her heart had melted. That crush had lasted ever since she'd heard that story and imagined Elizeus fighting for her... shirtless... and okay maybe with water streaming down his rippling muscles.

It was at those (unfortunately covered) muscles that Evony was staring. Lost in visions of Elizeus saving her, then sweeping her up into those muscled arms, Evony didn't notice when his brows knitted together with gravity and waved her over.

"Evony." Her name on his tongue sounded divine and Evony savored it as she moved closer to him. She was sure a bright crimson flush had found its way over her cheeks and up her neck.

If Elizeus noticed the blush, he didn't comment. He was looking down at something on the ground with a stoic sort of gaze that made Evony wary. When he was stoic and clam, others tended to be emotional and hysterical. Evony was one of those other people; she took one look and retched up her dinner in a pink-flowered bush.

Silent as a cat, Elizeus layed a gentle hand on her shoulder. She felt his hand tense as she vomited again--this time only bringing up bile--and wondered if it was from disgust or an urge to comfort her. "Go get the others."

Evony wanted to be anywhere but there, so she went to fetch the rest of their group.