Golvanyar crouched in the bushes, watching the other elven children play. They frolicked in the forest clearing, chatting among themselves in the shadows. Occasionally one of them would crouch to roll a snowball and launch it at anyone who happened to be standing nearby, triggering an impromptu battle. These outbursts ended with most of the children rolling on the ground laughing while wiping snow from their faces before returning to whatever imaginary game they had been playing before.
Only one elf remained apart from the others. Golvanyar’s violet eyes were drawn to her immediately, almost of their own accord. She appeared to be around his own age—perhaps twelve or thirteen years old. She sat on a large rock, fletching arrows. She hunched over her work, her long, raven hair obscuring her features as her fingers continued their task. She seemed to need no lantern or torch, using only her elven sight and deft touch in the constant darkness of the forest. Golvanyar watched her, barely breathing.
His mother had always kept him apart from the other children of the village. Now she had deemed him old enough to wander on his own, but his peers held little interest for him. Their rough horseplay seemed so crude and childish. The other youths also tended to be more aggressive with him than they were with one another, which didn’t help matters.
They know I’m different. Mother has always told me how special I am. They must sense it, and hold it against me.
But this elf girl who sat fletching arrows... She was different too. He had never seen her before, but he was sure of it. She radiated a calm solitude, holding herself comfortably apart from the chaos around her. When one of the children had the audacity to lob a snowball in her direction, she dodged it without looking up from her work. Golvanyar’s hands balled into fists. How dare anyone attack her like that?
“Iadrawyn, come play with us!” her attacker called, stooping to roll another snowball. Golvanyar’s rage was briefly forgotten.
Iadrawyn. Her name is Iadrawyn.
She looked up, revealing smooth, dusky skin the same shade as any other elf’s, angular features, and a pair of deep, green eyes. Her lips twitched in a tolerant smile.
“You don’t really want that, do you?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Or have you forgotten how badly I beat you last time?” Golvanyar found himself hanging on every word of her lilting voice.
“You just got in a few lucky shots,” her attacker blustered. “I bet you couldn’t do it again.”
Iadrawyn shrugged and said nothing, returning to her work. The boy smiled to himself and wound his arm to throw. Golvanyar was about to throw himself from the bushes to tackle him, but Iadrawyn was already in motion. If Golvanyar hadn’t been watching her, he would never have believed she could have moved so quickly. In mere moments, she had three snowballs in the air. They slammed into the boy’s face in rapid succession, sending him reeling. His own missile fell from his hand, forgotten. When Golvanyar looked back at Iadrawyn, she was already back to her fletching without a single strand of hair out of place, as if nothing had happened. Golvanyar blinked and shook his head. After a startled pause, the other children began to laugh as her target wiped the snow from his face with a rueful expression.
“Don’t feel bad,” Iadrawyn said without looking up. “I have two older brothers, remember? I am used to being attacked without warning. Now leave me to my work, please.”
The boy’s shoulders slumped in defeat and he returned to playing with the other children. Golvanyar forced his tense muscles to relax, his eyes glued on Iadrawyn.
Her head snapped up without warning. She sat motionless while the other children continued their games, her green eyes sweeping the clearing. Golvanyar froze. He knew there was no way she could see him, but she was staring directly at his hiding spot. Her expression was wary, as if she sensed something was amiss, but could not quite put her finger on it. Time hung suspended.
Golvanyar couldn’t explain it, but something deep inside him suddenly surfaced, forging a link between them. Iadrawyn appeared oblivious, but somehow Golvanyar knew. There was no doubt in his mind that his and Iadrawyn’s fates were inexplicably intertwined. The absolute certainty of it overwhelmed him.
After a few tense moments, Iadrawyn shook her head and returned to her arrows. Golvanyar’s breath came out in a rush. It seemed strange that she would not sense the immensity of what had just happened, but clearly she had sensed something.
