'Winter,' the young man said, 'is prime wolf-hunting time, William. The animals come out due to hunger. They need food as much as any creature. And when we find them,' the man grinned, looking very much like the wolves he described, 'we find them. Protection of the fief, my boy.'
     'Yes, Your Grace,' one of his companions replied. The boy was tall for his ten years, with dark, straight blond hair cropped short. He was dressed in brown leather as opposed to his master's house colours of green and blue. Fur-trimmed gloves protected his hands from the elements, as well as his pony's tugging of the reins. The animal obviously preferred his warm stall to the harsh winter weather. Personally, Will couldn't blame him.
     'Look, there in the snow!' called out the Duke's other companion, a tall, lanky man in his mid-twenties. 'It... it looks human!'
     The girl-child was thin, gaunt and emanciated. She was weak with exhaustion and hunger and shivered in the cold of the winter air. Duke Marcus climbed quickly from his mare's back and rushed to her side, fearing for the life of the young child. Motioning for help from his page, he spread his cloak on the pure white snow and began to lift the girl. She cried out in terror and cringed away. An arc of silver flashed through the air.
     'Ronnik's Sword, Mark! The girl's armed!' Lord Geoffrey of Melar lept from his horse and made his way through the snow to his friend. 'What in the gods' names do you think you're doing?'
     'Shh, quiet child. You're safe now. What does it look like? I'm taking the child with me. We can't just leave her here, Geoff! Will, bring Star over here, lad.' Mark made a second attempt to wrap the girl in his cloak and received a slash on the forearm. 'Damn! Hold still, girl. You are safe, alright? No one is going to hurt you here.' The girl stared up at him with liquid turquoise eyes. Mark noted their almond tilt, then suddenly let out a low whistle.
     'What is it?' Geoffrey peered over Mark's shoulder. 'Look at those eyes!'
     'No no, look at her ears! They're... pointed.' Mark brushed locks of dirty, tangled blond hair aside. 'This child is elven.'
     'No.' The quiet refusal made both men jump.
     'No? No, you are not an elf?'
     'No.' The small girl slowly shook her head.
     'Then...?' 'Half-elven.' The girl's eyelids fluttered shut and she slept.
     'Ha. A half-elf? I thought the elves were too prissy and afraid of tainting their precious blood-lines to become involved with humans.' Geoffrey shook his head in bemusement. Mark stared at the girl's hand. 'Oh, what is it now, Mark? Did you find a royal elven birthmark on our Lady's delicate fingertips?'
     'Not quite. Look.' Mark pointed to a ring on the girl's left thumb. It was a signet ring, the signet made of mother-of-pearl. Rainbow hues shimmered ethereally in the cold light of the winter sun.
     'I don't... oh. Oh.' Geoffrey sat back on his haunches and chewed his lower lip thoughtfully. 'You do know what this means, don't you?'
     'I would not have been so shocked if I did not.'
     'What is the matter, Your Grace?' The two men jumped for the second time that day at the voice sounding from behind them.
     'Oh, Will. Gods, you gave me a scare. Did you bring Star...? Oh, right, there she is. Come here for a second, lad.' Mark's page approached carefully. 'Look at this ring. What do you see?'
     'I see... I see a nightengale, and a moon behind it.'
     The two men looked meaningfully at each other. 'The crest of House Moonbeam. This child is the lost princess of the elves...'

     Flames roared behind her and the acrid smell of smoke was thick in the air. The young blond child ran through the night, into the forest, and concealed herself behind a log to escape those that she knew pursued her. Tears slid from her eyes and rolled down her cheeks as she thought of the sight that she had just witnessed. Screams split the air, high-pitched and filled with agony. 'Mama...' the child whispered, and wept bitterly.

     Tinella woke with a start, her cheeks wet, her eyes burning. She shivered in the darkness, cursing winter and its low temperatures. Sniffling slightly, the girl groped vainly in the dark for a candle and flint, then finally sighing in exasperation, uttered a few quick words. Light burst forth from her palm, driving back the night and shadows. Nodding slightly in satisfaction, Tinella dimmed the fire with her will until all that remained was a faint, steady glow. Hoping it would not be enough to give her away, the girl crept to her chambre door, opened it, and slipped into the hall.
     Castle Zean was, to a nine-year old girl, large enough to always seem exciting, yet small enough so as not to be intimidating. But now, in the middle of the night, the high ceilings of the hall seemed to stretch on forever, and every shadow moved to grab. Tinella shivered again and quickened her pace, stepping carefully on the cold stone floor. Turning right, the girl proceeded down a smaller, less threatening hall and stopped in front of a door. Dousing her light, she slowly turned the knob and snuck through the door. Then, without a pause, the blond girl crawled onto the chambre's bed and under the covers.
     An arm pinned her to the bed; another covered her mouth. Wriggling slightly, Tinella let out a muffled yelp of protest. 'Tine!' a voice whispered in her ear. 'What in Ronnik's name are you doing here?' The hand moved away from her mouth and the girl drew in a deep breath.
     'I... Will, I had some bad dreams.' Muttering under his breath, the other form in the bed pointed and lit a bedside candle. Rubbing his forehead in irritation, Will glanced at the child who stared innocently back. Times like these made the page almost wish Duke Marcus had left the girl where he found her, three years back. Instead, the man had brought the child home, where his wife had made a terrible fuss over her. The girl recovered and was adopted by the childless couple, becoming the Duke's heir. Will shook his head in wonder.
     'Do you have to leave?' The lovely girl's voice brought Will back into the present. 'To court. Do you have to go?'
     'Yes, we've talked about this. Printemps is the day the King makes all of the pages into squires. If I don't go, I won't become a squire, and then I can't become a knight. Besides, it's not even Midwinter. Spring is still far away.'
     'But I'll miss you. Who will I fence with? Who will I go to when I have bad dreams? And who will I blame for eating all of the tarts?' Will chuckled and leaned back against a pillow.
     'Well, Tine, the only other solution would be for you to come with me.'
     'That's it!'
     Startled at the excitement in her voice, Will scrutinized the girl suspiciously. 'What is?'
     'I could come with you! I could be a page at court, then become a squire, and then a knight! Oh, Will, that would be grand! Maybe I could be your squire!'
     Will laughed aloud at this statement. 'That's silly, you're a girl! But... oh! Just imagine their faces if you showed up and asked!' Will roared with laughter at this thought, and struggled to control it when he saw the hurt on Tinella's face. 'Tine, you can't be serious. Only men can be knights. So unless you've been hiding something from me, they'll never let you become one.' Will wrapped an arm around the girl, sighing when she pulled back and sulked. 'Tine, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have laughed. But seriously, how do you think you're going to become a knight?'
     'I'm a good rider and tracker. I can fight with dagger. My archery's decent enough, and I'm as good with a sword as you. And I'm five years younger than you and female!'
     Will sighed in exasperation. 'You're too small. You're thin, not to mention short, even for a nine-year-old girl. Plus, you are still a girl. Girls' muscles don't get as large as boys and you know it! You'll fall behind physically before you're even a squire.' Will shrugged his shoulders at Tine's glare. 'I'm only stating facts.'
     The young girl sighed, nodding in agreement. 'I know that I'm not a boy. But why can't they just give me the chance to prove I can keep up with the boys? I know I could do it!'
     'I don't know. There are female swordswomen, but they are few and far between. And they almost always travel with men, just in case something goes wrong.'
     'But do they travel with men because men are better, or because it's stupid to travel alone? Tell me that, oh Keeper of Knowledge.'
     Will, getting irritated, scowled. Tinella saw that she had angered her friend, and quieted. The two sat in silence for long moments.
     Looking at the child, Will decided to pursue the original topic of conversation. 'Alright, bad dreams. Are you going to tell me about them this time?' Tine bit her lip and shook her head. 'Why so secretive?'
     'I just don't want to tell you is all.'
     'Were they about your parents?' Silence. 'Come on, Tine, you've been hiding that for the past three years. You haven't told anyone what happened to them, just that they're dead. Was it illness?' No answer. 'What, did you kill them or something?' Will asked lightly, attempting at humour. Instead, a startling change came over the girl. Her eyes flashed, the muscles in her neck tightened, and she quivered in pure rage. Will, startled, fell off of his side of the bed.
     Tinella leaped off the bed and turned on Will. Her lips were bloodless, her face pale with fury. She bent down and grabbed Will by the wrists, her grip like a vise. He gasped from pain.
     'It wasn't me!' she cried. 'I couldn't stop it! They died, and I couldn't stop it!' Tine shrieked in anguish and fled from the room. Will slowly rose from the floor, examining the dark bruises on his wrists. From his friend's reaction, he guessed he had come closer to hitting the mark than he had expected. But Tine was six when her parents died. That was ridiculous! Grimacing, Will rubbed his wrists and climbed back into bed. No use chasing Tine now. 'And they say women aren't strong enough to be warriors. Ha!'

     Tinella threw herself on her bed, her shoulders heaving with body-wracking sobs. She tore at her hair, only thinking to physically relieve her mental agony. But the pain persisted. The emotional ache that would sometimes consume her continued to throb deep inside the child's heart and soul. She thought of her mother and cried harder.
     'Forgive me, Mama! I didn't mean to! It wasn't my fault!' But no, her soul told her, it was her fault. She was the murderer of her own parents.
     'No... No!' Tine moaned. 'I didn't do it.' Then, after a pause, the girl scrabbled feverishly at her window. Throwing it open, she climbed out, and down the rough stone wall. The small girl stumbled slightly hitting the ground, landing awkwardly on her left ankle. But it mattered little. She barely felt the pain. Instead, she ran out into the horse pasture, weeping hysterically.
     Tinella raised her arms to the sky, as if calling to her parents. She turned a tear-streaked face towards the clouds, and screamed, 'You left me! It wasn't me, it was you! You left me, Mama, Papa! It's your fault, not mine!' Then, grabbing a stone, Tinella began throwing missiles at the sky with all of her might. She screamed incoherently at her long-dead parents, as if she could still punish their souls for abandoning her. But her soul answered her again. No, her parents didn't leave her, or at least not how she explained it. She had killed them. It was her own doing.
     Tine fell to the ground, spent. 'No, no, no!' her mind cried. It was not her fault. She didn't murder them. The child's eyelids drooped from exhaustion and she drifted into a restless sleep, reliving that horrible night one more time, in her dreams. She heard her mother's screams once again, saw her father's blood, smelled the burning flesh. And a light rain fell on the sleeping child, as if the gods themselves wept for the girl's anguish.