With his free hand, he ripped her dress open, exposing the bloodstained white shift she wore underneath. He shredded that as well and dropped her body upon the porch like a soiled, broken doll. Turning, he walked back out the front gate to the street, stopping briefly to check both ways. Once certain the path was clear, he returned the way he had come.
Fishing a handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped his mouth.
The coming days had been successfully set in motion.
Chapter 1
It was the place he'd nearly died, and here he returned every day before dawn.
Leesil stood sweating in the forest clearing’s cold air, surrounded by sparse-limbed, shaggy firs. The sun had crested the high eastern tree line, and winking sparks of sunlight skipped between ocean wave tops below to the west. Along the shallow bay’s coastal edge sat the small port town of Miiska, its rooftops brightened by the dawn.
White-blond hair matted flat to Leesil's neck, shoulders, and his narrow face, letting the blunt tips of his oblong ears peek out. Faded but still visible scars lined his tan-colored throat and the lower right side of his jaw. The thin beige cotton shirt clung to his back, and his feet felt wet with perspiration in the soft leather boots. Breathing hard, he scowled in irritation, wiping away sweat running into his eyes. He shivered briefly. The chill of a late-autumn morning encouraged him to keep moving for warmth.
"Valhachkasej'a!" he muttered, though not completely certain of its meaning.
His mother-Nein'a, Father had called her-would whisper it under her breath when angered or frustrated, or when she cut herself accidentally while sharpening a blade. Her narrow, triangular face of smooth caramel skin would wrinkle slightly, and high, thin wisps of white-blond eyebrows would cinch together in a scowl as she shifted unconsciously into her native Elvish.