Night had fallen and rain lashed down onto Ninte’s face like tiny whips striking her over and over again. Tears streaming from her puffy eyes were lost, whisked away by the downpour as she bounded through the storm on Veynar’s back alongside the river. Together they galloped through the sloppy mud left by the water that ran down slopes and pooled into wide puddles that could almost be called ponds and would probably take days to dry up.

They reached a wide, empty field dotted with oak trees that creaked and swayed against the powerful wind tugging at their branches. Leaning forward and lowering herself to the stallion’s neck, she pulled back on the harness and shouted out for him to slow down. She hadn’t bothered saddling him, and as he slowed to a trot and eventually a steady plod, the pain of the hard ride finally caught up with her. Her thighs and buttocks were stiff and aching from the effort of staying upright, and they throbbed from the repeated jarring bumps they’d been absorbing.

Straightening up she looked out into the darkness that surrounded them. She heard the water of the river nearby still. Ninte waited patiently, squinting through the sheets of rain still assaulting her until finally, it happened. A flash lit up the field as a jagged streak of white light cut across the sky. At the same time, a deafening crash boomed around them, making Veynar jump and trot skittishly to one side as Ninte, caught off guard, struggled to stay mounted and reached down to calm him. Before them, an oak tree roughly fifty paces ahead exploded in a shower of sparks and flame. There was a creaking, ripping sound, and one enormous wooden limb snapped away from its host and came crashing down into the dirt sending waves of muddy water out in every direction.

The lightning paired with the crash of thunder and the sudden fire that now blazed defiantly through the rain ahead proved too much for Veynar’s nerves. The stallion whinnied and reared up on his hind legs. Ninte lurched forward, reaching for the horse’s neck, but his coat was slick from the deluge and her fingers pawed helplessly without purchase as she slid back and tumbled down into a heap in the mud below. Veynar panicked and took off at a gallop, one of his rear hooves slamming into Ninte’s shin as she flailed on the ground. The fall had left her winded, and as pain erupted in her leg from where Veynar had struck her, she was left writhing in a muddy puddle, gasping for air.

Ninte wriggled to one side in an effort to recover, and although it worked, she was too focused on breathing to notice dark water a finger's breadth from her face. When she gasped, her head instinctively tilted forward and her mouth immediately filled with the water and thick mud. She spent the next few minutes on her knees coughing and spluttering as the water slowly made its way out of her lungs. By the time she had recovered, the flaming oak tree had all but been doused by the storm, and all that remained was a cracked tree with fast dwindling tongues of fire lapping desperately at its branches as it clung to life.

Ninte stood, and quickly fell back to her knees as her right leg gave out from under her from the pain in her shin. She clutched at it for a moment until the throbbing subsided, gently rolled up the leg of her breeches to examine the damage and waited for the next flash of thunder that would enable her to see what had happened. She didn’t have to wait long before another flash came, this time farther away as it took a second before the thunder followed, but it was enough for her to check her injured shin. A large, purple bruise was already flourishing in the spot Veynar had kicked her. The light faded and she pressed gently against the skin. When she was confident that there was no break, she took a deep breath and made another attempt to walk.

This time she was expecting the pain, and while her leg trembled slightly, as long as she kept her weight off it for the most part, she was able to move. While there may have been no broken bones, the most Ninte could muster was an unsteady hobble, only made all the more unsteady by the uneven and slippery terrain.

With neither the strength nor the resolve to go further, Ninte limped over to the smoldering oak and collapsed beside it. It offered little shelter from the wind or the rain, but it was better than nothing and she no longer cared. Then, gathering her soaked cloak around her shoulders, she put her head down and waited, tears rolling down her cheeks. She was exhausted and fell in and out of a restless slumber.

Suddenly, the world flashed around her again, but this time it was not lightning. The muddy field and the trees bordering it melted together, swirling before her eyes, then finally taking shape once more. Where, only seconds ago, had there been a damp and flooded field, Ninte now found herself peering out from a cramped corner on the edge of a large, cobbled square surrounded by wooden buildings. A great fire blazed in the center of the square and the sound of weapons clashing could be heard accompanied by guttural screams and roars of fighting men and women. Bodies were strewn across the ground, some still and lifeless, while others crawled aimlessly, yet to come to terms with their fate. High above, shimmering in the moonlight and flapping gently in the wind was a white flag atop a high watchtower brandishing the family crest of the House of Ariyon.

Something tugging at her arm prompted Ninte to look down, and she gasped as she saw a woman lying before her, an arrow sprouting from her neck. With a start, Ninte recognized the woman from her dreams; it was the same woman who had spoken to her while she had been imprisoned in that strange, dark cell. The woman took a shallow, shuddering breath and reached up to touch Ninte’s face.

As the woman’s hand drew close, the world grew foggy and blurred, and, as quickly as it had changed, it returned to reality. The dank fields and the smell of fresh mud and recent rain surrounded her once again. Ninte drew a deep breath, contemplating if the events that had led up to her journey to Velniya were really a coincidence.

She stayed awake the remaining hours of the night. The storm raged on until the first shades of light began to show in the clouds to the east. Using the charred tree for support, Ninte pushed herself to her feet with a grunt and cautiously tested her weight on the injured shin. It throbbed a little, but it was manageable. She’d been lucky; had Veynar’s hoof hit her shin just a little harder, she would have been left crippled and helpless. As it was, she only had to deal with a slight limp. She looked out at the field ahead and the river on her right. A thick forest lay just beyond fresh marshland left by the previous night’s deluge.

With a sigh, Ninte wiped her face with grubby hands. The time for tears had passed. Gritting her teeth, she picked a point in the trees at random, stepped out into the boggy field, and began to make her way towards it.

The going was slow and arduous. Every step became a battle as the deep mud fought to swallow her boots and wrench them from her feet. Her bruised leg was soon burning, and she was red-faced and panting by the time she was halfway across. After what felt like hours, Ninte finally reached the far side of the field and pulled free from the mud for the last time. It reluctantly released her with a wet sucking sound. She collapsed on the moist, yet mercifully firm earth beyond the field and lay there for some time, her chest heaving. Then she rose up, drank from the water of the river, and resumed her journey.

She knew she should walk with a sense of urgency, as she had nothing to eat, but she simply couldn’t muster the energy to walk any faster. Struggling to ignore the pain in her leg, she trudged forward alongside the river, her head slumped down until her chin almost rested on her chest. Just as Ninte was about to give up again and sit down to rest, she reached the apex of a low hill carpeted with wild daisies. Below her on the other side of the hill, was a sight she didn’t expect to see. Standing just ahead of her with his head rigidly upright and ears pricked forward and alert after hearing her approach, was Veynar.

He whinnied happily as he realized who she was and began trotting up the hill toward her. She, in turn, carefully walked down to greet him and soon they were reunited, both a good deal grubbier than when they had parted, but reunited all the same.

Then, Ninte beheld another sight that immediately left her speechless. Far off in the distance, she spied gray plumes of smoke rising from beyond the trees. Among those plumes, erupting up toward the heavens was an enormous watchtower atop which fluttered a pristine white flag.

“Come on Veynar, we may just survive this after all,” said Ninte, hope blossoming in her bosom. She climbed atop the stallion and set off down the hill in the direction of the watchtower of Velniya.