Chapter One: Kath

Kath Thea Wolf was lifting the last of her family’s harvest for that year onto her work-exhausted back, when her older brother came striding down the path towards her.

Her brother had the fine features of someone who had been pampered since birth. Which he had been, since Kath’s birth nine years later anyways, by their mother. Her mother was a depressed woman who couldn’t stand the horrible thought of her beautiful baby boy being used for manual labor. Or anything less than riding around town on his sister's stallion and getting hopelessly drunk at the small tavern that called the village of Wisperton home. He had bright blue eyes, blonde hair, and a smile that could make any girl swoon. Other than that he was a walking idiot.

Herself on the other hand was nothing like her brother with his blue eyes. Her eyes were an emerald green, like the gems pulled from the Berthworth mines. Instead of blonde hair she had long, mousy, brown hair always pulled up in a ponytail. And, of course, muscles and calluses from working in the fields from dawn until dusk.

“Kath! Wait up!”

Her brother’s labored breathing caught up to her ears and she couldn't believe that a flat quarter of a mile trek had caused him to lose his breath. Especially since he had walked the entire way. His stricken face did nothing to worry her, like it would their mother, and she kept on limping down the path.

A misplaced basket full of apples had been laying in the middle of the field around noon, causing the incident. She had tripped over the basket, impaling her shin on a sharp rock with a bale of hay smothering her. The wound had stopped being too much pain, but she was still ready to finish her chores. As soon as she dropped off the last of the harvest in their barn, she could grab her horse, rest her injured leg, and ride off into the sunset - at least until work started the next day, day after day, on and on like it had for the past eleven years since she was six.

Her brother called out to her again, something about the prince and the crops. Her mother had probably sent him to remind her that if she didn’t get the crops harvested to be sent to the palace on time this year, she would have her daughter whipped again.

Her farm, though small, was one of the few remaining after the current plight, which still sent crops to the palace regularly. This was for the cooks to feed to the royals, all comfy on their thrones, and two years ago she had sent the crops to the castle late due to a fight between her and two of the village boys. She had beaten both of the boys to within an inch of their lives but not without suffering from a broken nose, leaving her “less attractive” in the eyes of her mother. She didn’t need to be attractive to anyone, but she had also sprained her forearm. Her mother had been fined for the late crops and had delivered her daughter ten lashes, painful but not unbearable. Her back had also been left a bloody mess and since her mother had to remind her, an unnecessary reminder at that, to get the crops in on time.

She shut the barn door in her brother’s face, setting down the bundle of wheat and walking over to Storm’s stall.

How many years ago she couldn’t count, she had come across an injured stallion in the woods across town. The horse was badly wounded in the side, it looked like a knife wound, although very magnificent and fit for royals. The horse was a midnight black with green eyes to match her own, and overlooking the injury was as fit as a fiddle. There was no reason that the horse should have been injured, as far as she could figure the horse had no problems. Storm quickly grew to trust her and her in return. They were a perfect match.

She quickly saddled her loyal stallion and mounted. She kicked open the barn doors as she rode past, her brother nowhere in sight, then took off at a speed that never seemed to have a limit, flying. She whooped and took off down towards the beach on one of the many side trails.

A cry was ripped from her throat as something suddenly and painfully pulled her off of her horse onto the hard dirt trail, her head landing with a thump seconds after her back. It deluded her mind and vision for a moment as she looked up into the faces of two middle aged men.

“Well that was easier than I thought.” Said the first man.

“It also looked a bit painful, are you sure she is okay?” Man two had the face of someone who was used to being obeyed at his every whim, but Kath wasn’t planning on obeying.

“Of course it was painful you idiots, you pulled me off a galloping horse onto a hard path littered with stones.” She picked up one of the rocks laying on the ground and threw it at him. To her disappointment he dodged easily and grabbed her wrists to stop any more chucked rocks at his head.

“She seems fine. Possibly a few bruises, nothing else.” This man was making her angry, if she could reach her dagger… there. Her hand clasped it. “That horse was moving a bit fast as well.”

She smirked at him, “Well guess what, I’m much faster.” She jerked the man who was holding her wrists, up and over her head, and he landed with a thump that made her cringe.

After his initial shock, the other man pulled a dagger out of his belt and lunged for her, but she was already on her feet and had no issue dodging. In turn she pulled her dagger to the front, throwing it so it landed to quiver in the tree behind him, just missing cutting off his ear.

With the gift of the knife from her father before his passing she had developed a deep passion for learning how to use it and had trained every day until she had the accuracy she wanted.

Man one froze and stared at her as she continued to smirk at him, enjoying she had gotten the upper hand again. But his surprised gaze drifted to behind her. She took a moment to soak in her glory and told him it could have been between his eyes before she turned, to discover the flat side of a sword on a collision path with her head.

The world fell dark.