The Beginning of a Hero

   A dim light flickers against the cold stone walls. Smoke and embers dance from a nearby fire, filling the small cottage with an orange glow embraced in a smokey cloud. Paintings of men in battle amongst foreign symbols along the stone flare into view. Each with their own story; great wars, births of heroes and downfalls of evil are depicted from the ceiling to the floor. Crouching next to the fire, a young woman dressed in rags stirs the embers as a hog roasts over the flame. She hums a gentle melody to herself as she prepares dinner.
   Across the room, hidden behind a table filled with scrolls and books sits an elderly woman. Her face and arms covered with similar markings on the wall, the quill in hand scribbles across a paper as she screams; "No! No. No. NO! This can't be!" Mumbling an ancient language the drawings on her papers begin to appear on the wall. Skulls, flames, war, death begin to take over the other drawings. "The end is coming" the elder woman slowly breathes out as she drops to the ground.
   Rushing to her side, the young woman tries to bring her back to a sitting position. "Another vision Grandma?"
    Shakily looking at the wall the old woman replies in a hoarse voice, "Darkness is coming. A world burned black. Dark shadows cover the land; nowhere to hide." Leaning forward, she adds a star to the top of the painting. "There is a light! A child... your child." Looking at her granddaughter with soft eyes she begins to smile before her face returns to a panicked expression. "Quick! You must leave. He is coming."
   A loud knock raps on the front door; giving her grandmother one final hug, tears fill her eyes as she quickly sneaks out the side door. Jumping on a black stallion in the stables she rides away as fast as the horse can carry her. Heading up the hill near the cottage, she leaves her home and heads towards the Sacred Forest.
   A scream pierces through the valley, turning back, she catches a glimpse of her home being engulfed in flames. Three men dressed in black climb on the backs of wingless dragons and begin to head in the direction of the young woman. She kicks at her horse and races through trees, dodging branches as the wind runs through her chestnut hair. It was the last time she ever looked back.
   By nightfall, she came across a small inn on the edge of the forest. Cold and wet from the heavy rain that welcomed her she desperately hoped they had an open room. After settling her horse in the stables, she pushed open the heavy door leading to the tavern.
   The tavern was filled with men singing to lively music, drinking their money away and betting whatever remaining coin they had on their strength in an arm-wrestling match. Familiar scents of meat cooking and beer filled the tavern's thick air.
   Approaching the counter, a young man with curly brown hair turns from the bar to face her. His face had flour on the cheek and his eyes were a deep watery blue. Wiping off the sauce on his hands with an old rag he places it in the front pocket of his apron. "What can I get you?"
   "Just a bed for the night."
   "We're full for the night, but you look like you're freezing. You can come stay at my place for the night if you want. I'm just finishing my shift."
   She nods and he places his apron on a hook by the door before leading her to his cottage. A small shack behind the inn.
   Early the next morning the young woman wakes to a rooster crowing nearby; quietly she makes her way out. At the door, she turns back to the man sleeping and whispers a final goodbye. The morning air chills her breath, the dew on the grass cold on her bare feet. She climbs on her horse and begins her journey before the sun peeks over the horizon.
    For the next several months the young woman covers a lot of ground. Only stopping when she needs to. Almost at the end of her journey, she comes across a small red cottage on a mountain road. With the harsh winter winds blowing sharp ice against her skin and her now large stomach bringing pain to her back she trudges through the snow to the door. Asking for shelter from the couple whose lives there she is greeted with open arms.
   "Quick! Bring me a bowl of warm water and a towel!" Orders the lady of the house to her husband. "She's gone into labor."
   The next morning, the lady of the house holds up the new baby; handing the child to the young woman, she whispers; "It's a girl."