Chapter 3 - Chapter 2

The young haremaid lay in the infirmary. The healer, an older graying hare, was walking around, tidying the room, sorting herbs, and stacking paperwork. She was distressed that the haremaid hadn't wakened yet, and was trying to keep herself occupied. Presently, a young hare named Birchthorn (or Birch, as he was more commonly known) stepped into the room. Although he was a fearsome fighter, he was also skilled in healing, and for this reason he had become somewhat of an assistant healer. He turned to the old harenurse, Orcus. “How is she?”

“Not too well I'm afraid. I've dressed her wounds, including that strange burn on her hand. She's still unconscious, and she tosses and turns fitfully, like she's in a bad dream.” Presently, she picked up a piece of parchment from the desk and handed it to Birch. “She talks sometimes in her sleep. I've been writing down what she says…”

Birch took the paper and began to read it.



A record of a dream spoken by a young haremaid brought to Salamandastron, As recorded by Orcus Morningflower.



We must get out...can't take this any longer. Pain from the whip bruises and cuts me, we have to leave this place, friends…Running through the forest…Abrial is close behind me. Darkness, branches whip my face…They are after us. “No beast escapes,” the guards say, “They will not get away.”…So tired…must rest …I hide in the ferns. Abrial? Where are you?



Note - at this point the haremaid starts to cry softly. Suddenly she stops and continues.



Daybreak. My hand is throbbing; the burn has not yet healed. Abrial is gone. I don't know where…they must have found her…no escapes…I must move on…



Running through the forest, faster, faster…they are after me…they're almost on me…someone is beside me now, I run faster. I look back…not one of them…a squirrel…he leases three arrows, and they fly true…he swings up into the trees and is gone…alone again…



Rain…cold, wet, and tired…the end of the forest is ahead…I can go no further…but I must move on…I stumble from weariness, fall to the ground…who's there? Please…please help me…



Birch shook his head. “Poor thing. Sounds as though she was a slave at one time. I wonder what happened to her friend.”

“I'm not sure I want to know. Those vermin obviously found her, that's all I want to know.” Orcus rubbed her eyes and yawned sleepily. Birch raised an eyebrow.

“You've been up all night worrying, haven't you? Why don't you go get some sleep? I can take it from here.” The harenurse nodded appreciatively and left the room. Birch sat on the bed, picking up the haremaid's old cloak. It was black, tattered, and stained with mud and what seemed to be blood on the shoulder. “This definitely belongs in the trash.” As he went to throw it away, he noticed a small bulge in what seemed to be a pocket. He let the cloak fall to the floor as he pulled out the object. It was a bronze medallion on a light blue ribbon. The design on the medallion was two crescent moons, one overlapping the other, and a bird, wings outstretched, beside them.






















Birch was quite familiar with the symbol. “This is a medallion like the ones worn by warriors of the Moonsparrow tribe. But that's impossible! Surely they're simply just the stuff of legends?” He rubbed his thumb over the picture engraved on the medallion. He flipped it over in his hand. On the back, it thin, scrolling letters, read the words Pennybrite Moonsparrow, also engraved into the medallion. It was at that exact moment that the haremaid awoke. He turned to her, an expression of wonder and amazement on his face. “Who are you?” he whispered to her.

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