CLXXVIII.
With the speed of musket fire, she ran. Leaping, gliding, evading
All manner of beast which was either chasing behind her
Or jumped into her path so boorishly in a sharp spur.
The horde of wicrow clustered together in their raiding,
Numbering in the hundreds, as far as Ríona could guess.
However, even mere perception got doused in the duress
Of this arduous task after a day’s worth of wading,
Running and manoeuvring through the dark demons pervading.
CLXXIX.
This effort might have been the end for those of the mundane
Mortality and yet, her kin-blood’s endurance was truly
Incredulous to all the people-folk ordinary.
Howbeit, she was still exhausted – succumbed to spirit-drain,
And between the occasional lunge of a hidden beast,
Her swift, never-faltering dagger-thrust which quickly ceased
Their pitiful life, she could only focus on this task plain:
Running away. Utterly, she could feel her body strain.
CLXXX.
She hoped what Aurianne had claimed was true in its essence;
That her father was waiting for her on the realm’s borders.
Alas, for now she had do bear this burden on her shoulders
Alone, despite the perilousness of the venture tense.
The howls and screeches of the beasts continuously delivered
Fear into her bones boorishly. Her nostrils flared and quivered
With both exhaustion and trepidation’s envenomed incense,
As even her blustering blood could not persist in the toil immense.
CLXXXI.
Throwing a quickened gaze across her shoulder, she was faced
With the wicrow closing the distance and making good ground.
Her stride was faltering, her focus waning and unbound,
And despite the Goddess’ ardent cheer, despair in utter haste
Began to take root. The girl’s chest was burning, gasping for air,
And her heart pounding hurriedly. Her conscience’s harsh, searing glare
Found itself collapsing inwards, like tumbling rocks displaced
Down the damnable slope, creating an avalanche ever-paced.
CLXXXII.
In her exhausted state, she finally elected to turn
And stand her hapless ground, for legs could no longer carry her.
Preparing her battling posture, her perception could not infer
Of any sensation other than that of the blackened concern.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Then suddenly, she felt the strongest pull on her collar’s back
And as she swiftly looked to find the source of the attack,
She found herself already seated on a steed battle-sworn,
Next to who else but her father, Audar with a grimace stern.
CLXXXIII.
Holding onto two girdles as another horse beside
Galloped along, he grumbled: “By gods, I’ve found thee! You stupid,
Stupid goose!” He pressed down onto her shoulder undisputed
Just as he would have in the days of her yesteryears applied,
Albeit this time it felt different, comforting in care.
He commanded softly: “Hop on the other dashing mare,
For dear, we must make haste!” Though tired was her jaded hide
There was always that fraction more of lifeblood to be pried.
CLXXXIV.
Seating herself on the saddle, she asked: “How didst thou find me?
Though the Goddess claimed thou wouldst muster thy forces to prevent
This incursion, alas, I am blind to the chance’s scent!”
She was puzzled by this opportune salvation timely.
The chief answered: “This is not my first hunt of kin-in-kind, lass;
Or should I rather say ‘maiden,’ seeing as thou surpassed
Thy rite of passage thousandfold!” Shaking his head sharply
He quizzed: “Thou art all tangled up in this tumble, aren’t thee?”
CLXXXV.
A lump seemed to form in her throat, and upon swallowing,
It felt like a seed of doubt passed down her body. She confessed:
“Alas, I fear it is damnation of my own acquest!
I beg thy forgiveness, yet please dost not be found wallowing
In thy lecturing for I can scarcely hold my own body
Upon this steed, let alone listen with my mind’s shoddy
Fortitude in my current state of fatigue and failing!”
The chief let the air stay still ‘fore he began avowing.
CLXXXVI.
“Dost not fret, dear daughter. This is thy prophesized dest’ny,
And despite a lack of forewarning, thou canst not control
What the gods will! Yet, I will stand beside thee, my fair foal,
Always. As thou grapplest with thy fate with grave tenacity.
Thou hast now surely met my old friend from the northern mounts,
A tale I hid from thee… Had he not people-folk renounced,
This heartless reality would not be thine inherency.
In truth, it is I who shouldst ask forgiveness and never thee!”
CLXXXVII.
Once they managed to escape the immediate danger
Of the swarm and adapted pace, Ríona’s body finally
Gave way to languor, as she leaned on his shoulder nigh lifelessly.
Grabbing her around the arms, he gave his eldest daughter
A gentle embrace and pulled her onto his saddled lap,
Reminding him of that dark day – his life’s greatest mishap:
The day Mockwir fell. A tear reached his eye as he caressed her
Fatigued, sleeping body melting into his like water.