Alenei

 It is ritual before battle.

 -The words on the page are scrawled all over, in differing sizes and handwritings-

I'M STILL AWAKE!

Journal entry (plus special stuff!): 

He didn't show up.

Journal entry: 

It rained last night.

What’s the point of love

If all it does

Is end in heartbreak?

 A girl runs through the dark streets of Silvermoon, tears flowing freely and silently down her face. A young tiger keeps easy pace behind her.

She reaches a large townhouse and slams open the door, locking it behind her. As she thumps up the stairs, an older woman pokes her head out of a room off the hall. “Alenei?” she calls, but is answered only by another door slamming.

A young blood elven girl sits on the balcony of a townhouse in downtown Silvermoon. Her short red hair is pulled back in a tiny pigtail, barely longer than the width of the band holding it back. Her long, short-sleeved shirt flaps a little over her loose pants as she leans over the railing to wave at another woman on the street.

The woman waves back. She looks a few years older than the other girl by human reckoning, with a similar face and identical hair color. She has a fairer complexion than the girl, however, and her hair is tied up in a loose bun. After the wave, she walks away in the direction of the less popular districts.

The girl on the balcony sighs and sits down in a chair with a young tiger lounging under it. She pulls out a small book and starts to write in it with a pencil.

“Sister...” she whispers. And she holds up the charm my father gave me when he told me of my parenthood.

But it’s different. Mine is looks brand new, a tiny silver sword inside a glass teardrop. The one Soryne holds is old, the glass scratched. The silver looks more like it is iron.

I look back at her- Soryne, my half-sister, the one they told me about. Her eyes are closed, and she dropped the pendant. I check her pulse quickly. She’s alive, just unconscious. Like Saemèr.

“I don’t understand...” I whisper, but I know she can’t hear me. I sheathe my blade, and drag her to the makeshift shelter Saemèr and I have been living out of. Then I drag over Saemèr, who is harder to manage.

 I step into the clearing. I’m due north of Brill, and the forest is dense and dark. It’s malevolent and... drippy. I sidestep a trickle of water falling from one of the trees. Probably a gnomish spy, peeing at me. No, probably not.

I’m wearing my work mail- mismatched green and grey and brown, along with a brown shirt instead of my usual red one. My hair still shows against the forest scene, though.

“Alenei!” I call. “Alenei di Capernio! Come out, Alenei!”