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To be completely honest, I'm not quite sure where I'm going with this - I only have some very vague ideas for the plot, and I intend to make most of it up as I go along. Because of this, at a later date I might edit this post slightly. But for now, reviews and opinions are appreciated 3nodding


The pale moonlight shone in the clear Spring sky and illuminated the long blond hair of the girl; standing alone on the hill. Her emerald eyes swept over the countryside before her - she circled slowly, savouring nature's beauty at it's best. She took in the ancient bushy trees, the damp grass licking at her sandalled feet, the bright stars.

Her needle sharp instincts picked up on the presence of her owl long before the bird came into sight. She held out her left arm, and the tan blur of soft feathers gracefully settled on the velvety midnight-blue sleeve of the girl's gown.

Turning her attention back to her purpose, she gazed at the small town at the foot of the hill. Only a few lights shone from the windows of the houses, but she girl didn't need light to find what she was looking for. She focused in on a house towards the east of the town - one of the many which was in complete darkness. The house was no different from any other in appearance, but the girl knew that what was inside the house was unique.

Her lips broke into a smile, and she turned towards the dense woods behind her. She strode towards them, her gown trailing along the soft grass and her owl swooping around her, having taken off again when she began moving; before disappearing into the forboding shadows that surrounded the woods.


Part 2:

The sun was just beginning to rise, and was already glowing brightly with the promise of a beautiful day when Cassara reached her dwellings.

She glided through the doorway of the magnificent ancient building; formerly a church which had been abandonned during the 1400s and was now a home for Cassara and her staff. The large oak wood door slammed behind her. Ugo flew to his wooden perch, near the door, and sat patiently.

Damon, the most loyal of Cassara's minions, approached her as she strode towards a red couch, draped with a violet silk blanket; and took her sweeping cloak from her shoulders. Cassara, as usual, ignored him.

"Is the subject progressing well, my Lady?" Damon asked, courteously, as he stood obediently by her couch, should she need anything.

"Very well." Cassara replied, as she reclined with a smile. "As you well know, the date is fast approaching. I have no doubts that she will be prepared sufficiently for when the time comes."

***************************************

The loud, invasive crowing of the cockeral at Fletcher Farm awoke Elita at sunrise. She sat up in her narrow bed with a yawn, and ran a hand through her frizzy, tangled auburn hair. The sunlight flooded through the small window in her room, and she rubbed her eyes.

Slowly dragging herself out of bed, she wearily pulled on a simple white blouse and a long green skirt - her only skirt. She shoved her feet into some plain wooden sandals.

"Elita! Where ya hiding? We's got work to be doin' - can't be wastin' half the day away!"

Elita hurried to the doorway, "I know, Ewan - sorry! I'll be there shortly!" she called in reply.

Elita grabbed a wooden comb from the small table beside her bed, and ran it through her hair, before quickly braiding it and binding it with a thin strip of fabric. She raced down the rickety wooden stairs - knowing already that she'd be in trouble for her lateness.

She ran into the small shed, breathless.

"Took yer time," Ewan commented disapprovingly, glancing up from his work as she entered.

"Sorry master - I assure you; it won't happen again." Elita apologised, gazing at the middle-aged blacksmith for his response.

"Just you see that it don't." He warned with a raised eyebrow. He turned back to his work and Elita breathed a sigh of relief.

"After yous picked up the milk an' eggs, hurry yourself back 'ere - got a list a mile long of things fer you ta do today." He told her.

"Yes, master. Of course, master." Elita said, grabbing her wicker basket from it's position on the floor, and walking outside into the sunlight.

She headed towards Fletcher Farm, hoping Ewan would brighten up as the day went on. Ewan was quite a reasonable man, but he had a tendancy to be grumpy unnecessarily. Perhaps he missed his late wife, Elita pondered.

Reaching the farmhouse door, she rapped lightly on the oak. The door swung open and Mrs Fletcher smiled at her, wiping her dough covered hands on her white apron.

"Hello there, Elita my dear," she greeted her. "Are you wanting your usual?"

"Yes, please." Elita replied. For all of Ewan's hostility, the Fletchers always made her feel welcome. She waited at the door while Mrs Fletcher disappeared inside again. When she reappeared, she was clasping a jug of milk in one hand and a smallish cloth bag in the other.

"Here's the eggs, and I've also put a slice of cake in there for you too." she said with a wink, handing Elita the jug and placing the bag in her basket. "Just see to it that your master doesn't catch sight of it!"

Elita nodded. Being the proud man that he was, Ewan refused to accept any gifts or freebies from anyone; and expected Elita to do the same.

"Thank you very much!" she said, reaching into the pocket of her skirt to pull out a small coin, which she handed to Mrs Fletcher.

"My pleasure," she replied with a smile.

They bid each other goodbye, and Elita headed back home - or at least, to what was now known as her home. After putting the milk and eggs in the larder and devouring the cake, Elita went back out to the shed.

Ewan hadn't been exaggerating when he told her how much work she had to do today. As soon as she had one task completed, she was given another to do. Collect a horse from Mr Bramshaw for reshoeing. Deliver a new poker to the parson. Find all the scrap metal scattered around the shed and dispose of it. The list went on and on.

As she worked, Elita couldn't help feeling slightly depressed. She was grateful to Ewan for taking her in, feeding her and putting a roof over her head - it was undoubtedly a nicer home than the orphanage had been - yet spending the rest of her days as an assistant to a blacksmith and a nurse to his young son was not how she wanted to spend the rest of her days.

Elita wanted to do something more. Anything - anything that didn't involve working in a small town. Elita wanted to see the world.


Part 3:

Elita leaned forward in her uncomfortable wooden chair, peering at the sleeve of the raggedy shirt she hurriedly tried to repair the holes of. Dark had now fallen, and she had finally reached her last chore of the day. She struggled to see by just the light of the fire next to her.

Concentrating hard on her work, she was unaware of Keiran standing by her side until she felt a gentle tugging on the hem of her skirt. When she turned her attention to him, she saw a small bunch of half-wilting wild flowers grasped in his little hands.

"Happy birthday." He whispered.

"Oh, Keiran; you remembered!" Elita replied, touched. Whether Ewan had forgotten it was her 18th birthday or simply didn't care, Elita didn't know, but it meant more to her that Keiran had remembered, even at the young age of 7.

"Keiran! Thought yer was s'posed to be helpin' me by sweeping up!" Ewans booming voice was heard from outside.

Keiran's azure eyes filled with fear upon hearing his father's angry voice.

"Don't worry - if he tells you off, I'll say you were helping me with the cooking." Elita assured him.

Keiran considered this; then quickly nodded and scampered away.

Left alone once more, Elita sighed again. Eighteen years, and what did she have to show for them? Nothing. She wasn't even married, like most girls her age.

Sick of sewing, and not caring if she was scolded by Ewan, Elita rose from her seat and headed out into the cool night. She walked to a secluded spot by the side of the shed, where she could gaze at the sky and the stars in peace.

******************************************

Cassara stood upright and dominating. Chin up, straight-backed, one leg just in front of the other, and with one hand on her hip; she waited for a pair of her followers to adorn her shoulders with another of her many majestic-looking cloaks. Feeling the heavy material settle on her shoulders, she glanced at Ugo, who immediately perched himself obediently on her outstretched forearm.

Another slave pulled open the door and Cassara was met by a blast of wind. She glared out through the open door, and the wind stopped. She marched outside, knowing her team were close behind, and made her way to the hilltop again.

Once more, she gazed at the small town, allowing her eyes to settle on the special house again for just a few seconds. The time for dreaming was over. Cassara quickly began the descent down the hill.


Part 4:

Elita leaned against the shed, which threatened to collapse under her weight; with her eyes closed, when she heard a slight sound. She jolted to attention. Most people would have remained unaware of any change to the surroundings, but Elita had always had exceptionally keen senses. Something wasn't right. She couldn't put her finger on what exactly; she never could - the air just felt heavier than usual...

Taking a small step forwards, Elita peered cautiously around the corner. Chances are the noise she heard was just a fox scurrying through the grass, but she couldn't rule out that Ewan might be trying to find her to give her yet another long list of chores to do.

To her surprise, neither Ewan nor a fox was around the corner. Instead, coming towards her from the hills, she saw a blond girl dressed in a glorious golden gown and cloak. Accompanying the girl were a band of men. It struck Elita as unusual that the girl seemed to be leading the way. Though having said that, the men all wore poorer quality clothes than the girl - it was possible that she was of noble birth and that these men were her family's slaves.

Catching Elita glancing in her direction, the girl smiled. Elita deliberated whether or not to run away - theft was a common crime these days. But there was something different about these people - especially that girl. Something which although unusual, didn't seem too threatening. She remained standing as the crowd approached her.

The blond girl came to a stop in front of her, and greeted her with a sweeping bow. The men followed suit.

"Elita." She said, with a smile, "Happy birthday."

'How does she know my name?' Elita wondered. 'And how does she know it's my birthday?'

The girl had a strong, domineering presence, but Elita tried not to allow herself to feel intimidated by it.

"Who are you?" she asked, as boldly as she could manage "How do you know of me?"

Before answering, the girl glanced towards the house, where Ewan and Keiran were. She made an odd hand gesture; flickering her fingers rapidly and clicking them against each other, and with a final quick flick of her wrist, turned back to Elita.

"I am Cassara. How I know of you will be discussed later. But first, tell me, what do you know of your heritage?"

Suspicion rose within Elita.

"And why should I speak of my heritage to a stranger?" she demanded.

Ignoring the question, Cassara continued firing questions.

"The family you currently live with. They are of no blood relation to you, are they?" Cassara asked, looking Elita square in the eye. It seemed to Elita that it was almost a rhetorical question, and Cassara was just trying to size her up.

"No." Elita replied. "So what of it?"

"You lived in an orphanage thoughout most of your childhood." Cassara continued, as if Elita had not just asked a question. "Do you remember your parents?"

Elita eyed all the men behind Cassara, all standing upright and still, all with their hands clasped behind their backs. What would they do to her if she refused to answer?

"No." Elita replied, "They took me to the orphanage when I was very young - too young to remember anything about them. All I know are their names, which I was told by my one of the staff at the orphanage."

"Yes, Alana and Wilfred..." Cassara murmured, appearing to be deep in thought.

Elita was only half surprised that Cassara knew this.

"Did you know them?"

Cassara jolted out of her daydream. "There will be time for questions later." she snapped. "Answering questions is not why I'm here. What about your mothers family? Her sister, your aunt? Your aunt's children - your cousins? Do you know anything of them?"

"Nothing." she answered shortly. "If my mother has siblings, I've never met them or been told of them; nor of their offspring."

Cassara paused, considering this answer. Elita took the opportunity to do some interrogating of her own, having decided that Cassara's "army" would attack her - yet.

"So why are you here?" she asked.

Cassara looked her square in the eye.

"Because of your destiny."


Part 4.2:

Arvin's feet were hurting. Sure, Cassara could stand for any length of time without feeling any pain, but Cassara wasn't exactly your average person. Aside from that, the leather boots he'd been given and instructed to wear were of poor quality, and did little to stop the sharpness of stones penetrating and stabbing his feet.

He shifted his position slightly, spreading his legs out further and slumping his shoulders. His orders had been to remain in the same position at all times that he was standing, but he was uncomfortable, and was standing towards the back of the group - Cassara couldn't even see him right now, and nor could he see her or the girl - his slouching would go unseen. Though he couldn't be sure that Cassara wouldn't have other ways of knowing her was disobeying her... Oh well - she didn't scare him anyway. Mistress or not, at the end of the day, Cassara was just a woman - what damage could she possibly do?

Clearly Cassara wasn't thinking of her men's feet, as she talked to the girl. Arvin had only begun to serve his mistress at the last new moon, but he still knew who the girl was - though whether he was supposed to know who she was was another matter.

Really, if he hadn't have dropped the boots he'd been carrying away for polishing right outside the door of the gathering room and overheard snippets of conversation, he wouldn't even know what he did.

True, what he had heard made little sense to him. The "Subject" was mentioned many times, but never by name. He'd heard a male voice questioning what was to be done if the subject refused, and he'd also heard his mistress's response that the subject would be given no choice. They'd then gone on to talk about accomodation arrangements for the subject, but at that point, Arvin had started to hurry away, knowing what trouble he'd be in if he was caught eavesdropping.

What Cassara was saying to the subject, he didn't know. And he didn't really care. He just wanted to get back to Brayton so he could sit down.


Part 5:

Once again, Elita found herself baffled by what Cassara was saying.

"What do you mean 'my destiny'?" she demanded.

"You'll see all in good time." Cassara responded, dismissive of the question. "Now why don't you come with me, and I'll tell you more?"

"Go with you where?" Elita asked with increasing frustration. Cassara's lack of information was infuriating.

"To my home." Cassara said, without elaborating any further.

"I'm afraid I can't do that." Elita responded, her patience finally running out. "I have a master whose needs must be attended to, and his small child to look after. Aside from the fact that accompanying a stranger to a place that I've never been to before isn't something I want to do anyway. Good day to you, madam!"

She spun on her heel and started to walk off, but couldn't. Something was stopping her - some kind of barrier. She could feel it, but she couldn't see anything.

Putting it down to a figment of her imagination, she tried to walk off again. Again, she couldn't. The barrier was still there. It was smooth and strong, like metal, but didn't have metal's coldness.

Annoyed, she glanced at Cassara. She was smirking at her. Elita turned in another direction and tried walking again. To her relief, she was able to. She began storming off, but got no further than a metre before she was met with another invisible barrier.

She turned back to Cassara. "You're a witch!" she spat. In these times, people accusing others of witchery was common, but until now, Elita had always dismissed the idea that witches even existed. "You're a witch, and you cast a spell on me! What have you done to me? Release me!"

Cassara smiled wryly. "My dear, I am many things, but a witch is certainly not one of them. However, I think you'll find that things are easier for the both of us if just agree to come with me."

"Not that you have any choice..." she added, under her breath.

Suddenly, Elita flew forward and had to catch her balance quickly, to keep from falling to the ground. She turned around to see who had shoved her. There was nobody there.

"Let's get going then!" Cassara said cheerfully, and strode towards the woods. Her servants, or whatever they were, followed her. Elita stood her ground. Before she knew it, she felt another great shove from behind, forcing her forwards.

She opened her mouth to scream, knowing that Ewan would surely hear her. No noise came out. With growing fear, she tried again; though she knew she would be no more sucessful this time. She wasn't.

Elita had no choice - she had to follow Cassara. She was being kidnapped, and there was nobody to save her.

sweatdrop You're right - well spotted!

Thanks for the suggestion of chaging the owl to a bat, but I chose an owl because of what they represent (intelligence, mysteriousness, gracefulness, etc) and a bat wouldn't really have the same meanings; but I will change the noise bit!

Thanks for your review!

redface Thanks!

Thanks! biggrin redface Very shortly, the 2 stories will merge 3nodding

Thanks - I've edited the owl bit since loneguardian commented, though, so it makes a bit more sense now!

Oh hello, I'm in a "in-depth" editing kinda mood today... SO HERE GOES!!!

Part one

Para 1:You can totally re-write the first paragraph. I think it's too top heavy with punctation, with the '-' and the ';' etc. You've no need to be too clever with language, just tell it plain and simple like!

"a full 360 degrees circle" You could simplify this with just the word circled. Everything else is wordy.

Nice use of description, very vivid. Would it be too much asking for 'what' she's looking at. A tree maybe! flowers?

Para2: Nice. Not sure about the word "wordless" This gives us the impression that she would talk when we know she's not

Para3: "Turning her attention back to the purpose she had came to this spot for" too wordy. Why can't she just turn back to the beauty of the landscapes.

We kinda get the feeling it's late, what with the night sky and all. I don't think you need to tell us that. And for the sake of the owl being there, it must be late, they being noctonal creatures.

"sleeping houses" do you want personification of the houses or do you mean the people sleeping in the houses? if so re-word it.

I think you could narrow this para. down to keep it to the point. It does seem wordy.

Para4: Cut that long sentence down. You can't stride somewhere and have a quick pace.

Do you want swooping or swooped. I thought the owl landed on her arm!

It's good. I shall continue. You've developed the hooker, which I believe to be the awarness of a house.

Now that I've got 5 parts in the first post, I'm going to put the next 5 in this one 3nodding


Part 6

Their journey took around half an hour, but it was a physically painful journey for Elita. She remained stubborn and refused to cooperate, meaning she found herself falling to the cold, hard ground many times. She still hadn't given up on screaming to alert attention, but she was still making no noise, and her throat was getting raw from all her feeble attempts.

However, she was making a mental note of the route they were taking, so that she might find her way back if she got the chance to escape at a later date.

They had already left Sariud, taking the north path out of the village, and had just finished their ascent of the grassy hill. Now they were entering the dense forest. Last summer, Elita had spent many hours in this forest; picking pretty flowers to decorate the dining table, finding herbs to add flavour to her cooking; yet now the trees seemed cold and menacing, as if draped with a cloth of darkness.

'Don't be afraid.' she told herself, fiercely. 'That's what these people want from you.'

Gritting her teeth, she tried to break away from the invisibly force that still held her in place, and once more found herself pushed back in line, like a magnetic pole repeling another magnet.

Elita noticed that the men accompanying Cassara had been silent the whole time.

"Pssst!" she hissed. The man nearest her turned around to look at her. "Who is Casssara, why is she capturing me?"

The man opened his mouth and was about to answer when he hesitated. "I... I can't say." he said quickly, and turned away again.

"Well, who are you?" Elita pressed. "Do you work for her?"

Again, he hesitated. "Yes.... well, actually, no, not really... though I suppose I sort of do..."

He was starting to turn back to the front again when she fired another question at him. "Where are we going?"

"Lady, I can't keep answering your questions." he replied, though it was clear from his expression that he took pity on her. "She will have my head if she catches me conversing with you."

Although the man had said little, he had got Elita thinking. Firstly, why had he called her Lady? That title was only given to noble women; or sometimes to the wife of your master. Though it seemed that these men had no master except Cassara, so Elita could understand why they might call her Lady. But an orphan peasant blacksmith's assistant?

The mans final sentence also intrigued her. "She will have my head." Elita didn't doubt that Cassara was an insensitive person - despite her denials, she was still convinced that Cassara was a witch and had cast a spell on her. But a decapitation seemed very severe; especially as a punishment for just answering a question.

Elita quickly shoved these thoughts to the back of her mind and addressed the man once more.

"Please? Please, just answer this one question, and I swear I'll ask no more of you. Please!"

With a great sigh, and yet more hesitation, the man considered this.

"We're going to Brayton Castle. It's not really a castle - just an old, converted church, but She likes to call it a castle. It's located in the heart of these woods, just up ahead."

The man finally turned forwards again, leaving Elita to digest everything she had just heard. As she heard parts of their conversation repeating themselves in her mind, she realised that their convoy was no longer moving. She glanced up, and found herself standing at the bottom of a large building, constructed mostly of stone, but with a few holes acting as windows. At the centre of the front of the building was a tall spire, leaning upwards into a point, but not high enough to be seen above the taller trees from a distance.

So this was Brayton Castle. Her prison.

Elita was awoken at sunrise by the sound of the cockerel at Fletcher Farm, just like she was every morning.

You're telling us something happens every morning. Instead you could rearrange the wording so it doesn't seem lazy. You know what, now that I'm thinking about it, I mean, if you want, you could just have "The sound from the cockerel woke Elita up at sunrise." Because cockerels are known for their alarmclock quailties so to say "every morning" is not needed. And also we have to think what sounds the cockeral is making just so the reader knows that you can write!!!

I'll do the need lot soon, my eyes hurt eek xp It was a pleasure reading it.

Okay, I'm going to go back over the first 3 sections and make changes accordingly. I'm also going to add another subplot somewhere within the first few parts. EVENTUALLY I'm also going to write part 7. But first I'm going to reply to the rest of Queeny's comments; just so I can get it straight in my head the things I need to change!
(By the way, you can all ignore the above! It's basically me just talking to myself to get my thoughts in order sweatdrop )


Reply to Queeny:

(regarding the cockerel part) - I can see your point 3nodding The reason I had the "every morning" bit was to try and give the reader an insight to Elita's life in general - daily routine, that sort of thing.

And thank you! (again!) biggrin redface


Part 3
Paragraph 1 - It took me a minute to get what you meant by that comment, but I think I understand now. I'll consider the wording I used when I do my editting 3nodding

Paragraph 2 - Okay, will do!

Thanks! She didn't expect Keiran to remember her birthday - she was surprised that he did (see '"Oh, Keiran; you remembered!"'); it just meant a lot to her that he did, because it shows he cares. And thanks again!

Paragraph 3 - To be honest, I hadn't given much thought to the formality of the writing. I guess I was leaning more towards informal. I'll keep your opinion in mind, but generally I think I write better informally.

Paragraph 4 - It became night at the start of part 3 - hence the bit about struggling to see by just the light of the fire. But I can understand why it's unclear. I'm going to take your previous advice and add a more detailed description of Elita's day, so hopefully that will indicate time passing much better.

Well, the comment at the start of the story is that I haven't really decided where I'm going with the story. That's still true (and also the reason why I said I'd edit slightly at later dates). At the moment, I'm intending for Cassara to be not evil, per sey, but sort of drunk with power and with misguided judgement. She sort of thinks that what she's doing is for the best, but she doesn't really stop to think about other people. I have plans to make these things more obvious a bit later.

Also, as for not giving a damn about nature, I am planning on adding something else about Cassara in later parts which will explain her caring about nature a bit better, but my plans are still rather up-in-the-air right now, so they're subject to change.

Paragraph 5 - Good idea! biggrin Not thinking of things like body language before now would be me getting ahead of myself again! sweatdrop

Paragraph 6 - 3nodding I'll edit that bit! It's amazing how much I assume the reader will pick up on automatically when I'm writing! sweatdrop And this is exactly why people reading my work and giving me feedback is so helpful!

Got it. At the time I was trying to put emphasis on her power and dominance, but on second thoughts, I agree that it's not really necessary.

Paragraph 7 - 3nodding That works for me. Mainly because that means I can get rid of the final sentence of that part, which I thought sounded a bit dodgy even as I wrote it (I couldn't think of a better way of putting it).


Again, thank you VERY much for your feedback - it's tremendously helpful!