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is, her entire village was burnt to the ground by
none other than the savage Chief Al’Rul. She had been one of the
survivors, taken prisoner and marched miles away from everything
she knew. During that time, the Chief had grown fond of her, but
not enough to show her any kindness. She had quickly become his
personal favorite, like a pet, brought before him to sing childhood
songs or tend to his wounds. However, no matter how hard she tried
to accept her fate, the Chief’s cruelty toward others made her
heart plead for a miracle.
    One clear night, when she was only sixteen,
she had finally decided to escape once and for all. She had been
with the war party for so long that they had grown lax in securing
her chains. That night they had forgotten to lock her shackles all
together. She hadn’t even made it a mile before the Phookan Chief
dragged her back by the hair. She remembered how the blood and
sweat from her scalp had burned as it dripped into her eyes and how
the scars on her legs from being dragged across the rocky ground
had never faded.
    “ I will always hunt you down,” he had
said, eyes blaring and voice gruff. “I will always find you. I
own you!”
    His voice echoed in her mind, bringing fresh
tears to her eyes. He would find her. She knew the way they hunted,
how they could pick up a trail from what seemed like untouched
forest.
    She lay there smothering her sobs and
dreading the day that those yellow eyes would once again burn holes
into her soul.

Chapter Four
    Evanna’s eyes opened to rays of early morning
sunlight freckled across her ivory bedroom. Birds chirped with
glee, announcing the arrival of a new day. The cool, crisp autumn
air smelled sweet with ripe orchard apples as it fluttered past the
silky curtains. She smiled and stretched her arms wide. Astrid had
wriggled away from her during the night and lay curled up on the
far side of the bed. She was still fast asleep with her thumb stuck
halfway out of her mouth. It was hard for Evanna to believe she was
already eight years old.
    She slid her feet from the cream colored
covers and onto the frosty white floor. Gritting her teeth against
the cold stone, she grabbed her shawl that hung on a nearby chair
and pattered out of the room and down the corridor. The morning was
still quite young, however that didn’t stop the occasional servant
from bustling about to and fro. They only stopped long enough for a
clumsy bow or unbalanced curtsy before scurrying away to their
destinations. She couldn’t help but think of them as frightened
mice fleeing from a hungry housecat.
    Servants are such silly things.
    Evanna came to the half-opened door of her
daughters’ bedroom and pushed it the rest of the way open, making
only a small hush on its well-oiled hinges. Inside sat a tidy
little girl on one of two large identical beds. She held a
porcelain doll with wide empty eyes. She was brushing its long
brown hair, watching the curls bounce away from the bristles with
an eerie intent.
    There had always been something odd about the
child, some hidden sense of order that seemed unnatural for a girl
her age. Evanna had always pushed any suspicions aside, but
sometimes she couldn’t help but wonder if her little girl had ever
really been a child at all.
    “Good morning, Mother. I trust you have slept
well. Even if you did let Astrid break the rules again.” She looked
up from her doll only long enough to a flash a cold, jealous
stare.
    “Oh Anya, you know if you were ever
frightened at night you could do the same thing.”
    “But you said we weren’t supposed to leave
our rooms!” Anya’s face mirrored the flat expression of her
doll.
    “Not to wander about as you please, no,” said
Evanna, edging herself closer to her daughter.
    “It’s still a rule, and she broke it.” Anya’s
cheeks started to blush with anger, cracking her ice cold
composure.
    “Well then, let’s do away with it then. No
more silly rule.” Evanna reached out to stroke her