Chapter One

Chapter One
Thunderheads

“Dinner is ready, children!” Roselia called out the door. It had been eight years today since the couple was happily married. In this time Marcus had joined a band of men who were protectors of the town, for there never seemed to be a shortage of men or women traveling from town to town, making a living through theft.
Forlorn cries for “more time!” and “not yet!” sounded from the other side of the threshold. The cries belonged to the two Brightwill children, Madeline and Halen. Madeline took after her mother; other villagers would rave about how much the two looked alike. She had dark brown hair and green eyes, and skipped wherever she went. Halen was very like his father in appearance with a square face and blonde hair, but his eyes were his mother’s, a vibrant grass green. The two children came running inside chasing each other.
“Momee, momee, raawr!” Halen growled, tugging at his mother’s pale blue skirts.
“Be quiet, goblin!” the slightly too bossy Madeline scolded.
“Madeline, don’t call your brother that.”
“And I’m not a goblin, I’m a troll.” Halen said glaring. Roselia rolled her eyes in exasperation. Her child seemed to take a new form every day.
“You two go wash up now.” she said while pulling a large pot off the fire. “And use soap, both of you!” Dirty as moles, the two set off for the washbasin.
“Now aren’t you a beautiful sight.”
A very broad-shouldered Marcus now stood in the doorway, having just come back from his patrol. This would be almost his seventh year with the force, and in that time he trained with a sword also. He turned out to be quite the prodigy.
Roselia laughed as she looked at herself. Her chestnut hair was haphazardly tied up in a messy bun, and she was fairly dusty from cleaning the house all day and doing the daily chores.
“Momee, you need to wash up too.” A now clean Halen said. Roselia laughed again and tossed a nearby rag at the boy who squealed. She walked over to Marcus and leaned up to give him a kiss when thunder boomed suddenly outside.
“Oh no! My clothes! You three go ahead, the stew is on the table. I’ll be right back.” She rushed out the door of their cozy home to save the laundry from the oncoming storm.
The stew, which gave off delicious odors, was seized upon by the rest of the family most heartily. The two children poked and giggled at each other while the father simply enjoyed sitting down for a while.
The peaceful moment was severed by Roselia’s scream from outside. Both children’s eyes opened wide with fear and Marcus was out of the house in a bolt. The clothes hung not twenty yards from the house. A figure draped in black stooped over a prostrate Roselia.
“You get away from her!” Marcus screamed. The shrouded figure turned its head his direction and then fled. Marcus rushed to his wife’s side. She had a grievous wound on her left side. It was visibly deep.
“Rosie? Roselia?!”
The mother’s eyes were wide with fear, and blood gurgled in her throat. “Marcus? I—“
And she was gone. The first drops of the rain began, but not even a torrent could wash away the tears of the three left behind.