Fiera's eyelids wearily flickered open, her long silver eyelashes gleaming brightly with leftover tears. Weakly lifting her head and looking up at the sky, she discovered that it had stopped raining. The clearing looked different after a storm. The ground was soft and looked as though it could swallow a full-grown elf without so much as a whisper of protest. Indeed, Fiera's ankles sank into the soft earth and the little elf sighed, enjoying the cool feel of the mud on her feet, in the same manner a swine would enjoy rolling in a muddy puddle to keep herself cool on a hot summer's day.
Looking around, Fiera saw that the trees around her glimmered with moisture and the brook was now flooded, its soothing water lapping up past the dirt bank Fiera had sat for hours before. The wind carried a burnt, smoky scent to Fiera's sensitive nose and she sneezed from the sharpness of the smell. Snapping her head in the direction of the wind's message, she could just barely make out the soft grey tendril of smoke rising up in the distance. It was not nearly as black and large as it had been several hours before.
Her father had warned her to run; run and never look back, but Fiera's heart ached and she longed to go back home, despite the logical knowledge that there would be no home waiting for her upon her return. Still, the elven girl was drawn to the remains of her village. Slowly un-sticking her bare feet from the devouring earth with a squelching noise, Fiera began her walk towards whatever was left of her old life. She held a slow but steady gait as she drew nearer, her small journey lasting from midday to dusk.
As she feared, the home Fiera had once known existed no longer, replaced by a deadened grey abyss where time itself seemed to stop for fear of disturbing its mournful solitude. Everything was ash and dust, the bodies of the dead disintegrated with only their blackened bones to show that they were ever present. Eyes wide with shock and fear, Fiera numbly and gingerly stepped over charred bodies and blackened greenery, trying desperately to identify her own family amidst the devastation. It was impossible, for nothing identifiable remained. Now that she thought of it, Fiera had not even seen or heard her mother that morning when she had been dragged her out of her warm mossy bed and been told to run away. Had she been killed before Fiera even opened her eyes? Her lovely, gentle and graceful mother with her soft smile and sparkling misty eyes... Fresh, hot tears trickled down Fiera’s cheeks, splattering the ashen ground as a last offering of her grief.
She could not merely leave and go on her way without somehow honouring her family and friends. They deserved a proper Farewell Ceremony, with lights and farewell speeches and mourners, but this Fiera could not give them. She was the only mourner present at this particular ceremony. Kneeling down to scoop up a handful of ash, Fiera gently leaned forward and blew until the dark powder had been lifted by the Spirits of the Air and carried away to the Realm of the Dead.
"There is no death... only a change of worlds..." Fiera whispered softly, the wind snatching the little girl's wise words and whisking them off along with the ashes. It was a common saying among her people, meant to bring solace and comfort to those who had lost someone dear to them. Fiera wished with every fibre of her being that these words were true; that her parents, friends and neighbours lived on in a different realm, waiting patiently to welcome her home when it was her time to depart from this life.
This place, once so full of life, laughter and love, held nothing for her now. There was no point in remaining in the dark shadow of happiness and hope, for it would never be the same again, nor could Fiera pretend that it ever would be. Only the bitter-sweet memories remained, and one cannot rebuild a home on nothing save for memories.
Slowly rising to her feet, Fiera heeded her father's advice for the second time that horrific day... Run! Don't look back, sweetheart! his voice echoed in Fiera's mind. Crying softly, the young elf ran as the darkness of the chill night swept over her, blanketing the girl in shadow and whispers of sorrow and fear. She ran as far away as she could from the life she had once known, not at all sure of where she was headed or what she would do when she got there.
"I won't... I won't look back, Father!" she panted as she fled for the unknown, leaving behind the shattered remnants of her childhood. Indeed, Fiera never did look back, nor did she ever return to her old village.