Scrivenings of the King-Beyond-The-Wall

Mirror Mirror #13

The scent of scorched earth and fresh rain mingled in the air, a poignant reminder of the storm that had raged through the valley just hours before. Amara stood at the edge of the ridge, the dampness seeping through her boots, as she surveyed the once-verdant land below now a patchwork of char and green.

"The fires came too close this time," her companion, Jael, remarked, his voice barely audible over the hiss of steam rising from the ground.

Amara nodded, her eyes scanning the horizon where the blackened soil met the dense, untouched forest that marked the boundary of their territory. "The rains were timely, but we can't rely on fortune to save us every time."

Jael adjusted the strap of his crossbow, his gaze following hers. "We need to move the village. It's no longer safe here with the dry season becoming harsher each year."

Moving the village was no small decision. It meant abandoning ancestral homes and the graves of their forebears, yet the changing climate left them little choice. The elders resisted, bound by tradition and fear of the unknown, but Amara and Jael knew the cost of staying would be higher.

"Let's scout the northern pass tomorrow," Amara proposed. "If the old tales hold true, there’s fertile land just beyond the narrows, shielded by the peaks from the worst of the dry winds."

Jael agreed, and they set off at dawn, the air crisp and cool, the earth beneath their feet firm and reassuring. The pass was treacherous, the paths narrow and winding. They moved silently, alert to any signs of the land’s fickle temperament or wildlife displaced by the fire.

Halfway through the pass, a sharp cry pierced the morning calm. Amara’s hand went to her knife as they approached cautiously. There, trapped beneath a fallen tree, lay a fox, its leg pinned, eyes wild with pain.

Jael knelt beside it, speaking soothingly as he worked to free the frightened animal. It was then they noticed the charred remnants of what looked like a man-made trap. "Poachers," he hissed with a scowl.

"This far into the mountains? They’re growing bolder," Amara said, her mind racing. The presence of poachers suggested the lands beyond might not be as deserted as they had hoped.

Once the fox was free, it limped into the underbrush, leaving Amara and Jael to contemplate their next move. "We should continue but keep an eye for more traps—or worse," Jael advised.

The terrain opened up as they cleared the pass, revealing rolling hills and a small lake, its waters clear and inviting. It was more beautiful than Amara had imagined, the soil rich and dark, promising fertility and life.

But the beauty of the land was overshadowed by signs of human activity—more traps, recently cut branches, and footprints that were too numerous to ignore. The poachers were using the area as a base, likely drawn by the same qualities that made it perfect for the village.

"We need to go back," Amara decided, her voice firm. "We need to prepare."

They returned with grim news and a new resolve. The elders finally conceded, swayed by the evidence of imminent danger and the persuasive urgency in Amara’s voice. Plans were drawn, scouts were sent, and within weeks, the village mobilized, not just to move but to defend their future home.

On the day of departure, Amara looked back at the smoldering remains of their old village, a necessary sacrifice to the relentless advance of nature and man’s greed. Ahead lay uncertainty, but also hope—a chance for renewal on their terms.

As the caravan snaked through the pass, Amara and Jael led the way, vigilant and ready. Behind them, the villagers carried not just their belongings, but a shared vision for their new home, fortified by the lessons of the past and the boundless possibilities of uncharted lands.


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(645 words)


Prompt: Begin a scene with a non-visual sense. Describe a specific sound, smell, taste, etc to capture your setting, then expand the story out from there.