Starfall Chapter 3

Her eyes glistened sorrowfully as she stared at the ground. Star-Tip turned.
"Come, Linma."
Linma began to turn, then hesitated.
"No... I wish to stay a while longer.
Star-Tip grunted and left. Ayrvyn didn't know what to say. Starfall. A rebellion.
'No, not now," he thought.
"Ayrvyn - if you're fighting... I'm fighting too!" Linma cried suddenly.
"What?" Ayrvyn returned. "You can't fighte! You're only -"
"A girl?" Linma chipped in. Thanks for the vote of confidence.
Ayrvyn sighed. "Linma-" But she was already walking away from him, her gown flapping threateningly into the mist. He couldn't let Linma fight. He couldn't lose her. He would have to fight without saying goodbye. Ayrvyn must have imagined the salty lagoon-like water drowning his lips.


***

A kinfe glimmered in the hazy candlelight. The handle was adorned in a beautiful red silk entwined with charms. It's blade threateningly glared and glowered, sharp as ever. A slender hand reached for the elegant handle, lifting the kinfe up. Another finger swept against its blade. Crimson blood trickled downwars.
Cursing colourfully, Linma held the knife up to her hair. She wasn't stupid. She knew how to cut her own hair. The knife was at shoulder length. Brown hair floated to the floor. Linma gasped, staring at her dark-green eyes in the mirror. She was shocked, so turned away and tied her hair in a blue ribbon. The typical warrior hairstyle. She skimmed her hand over a large book. She would miss her books. And Star-Tip. But she had to go. She couldn't let Ayrvyn leave her. If he died, she had to be there with him.
How could she tell him they had fought side by side? It would be difficult. Ayrvyn would never trust her again.

So many things were running through Linma's bewildered mind that night. Oh so many things.

***

The towns women were in states of pitiful tears, embracing their loved ones, not wanting them to leave. the children wept sorrowfully, clinging on tight to their farther's tunics. The gloominess was like the town was suffering from an ailment. But death, staring into the oblivion itself, was an irresistable yet unchangable ailment.
The birds sand no songs, the flowers wilted, and the hearts of so many were torn at the seams.

Ayrvyn look around him, astride a magnificent horse. He did not see a beautiful young woman with brown, straggly hair and emerald eyes. There would be no goodbyes. Ayrvyn was the youngest there by far. The beaten, the damned and the rich were all on large, gallant horses, sitting proudly, shoulders square and firm. He looked like a weakling to them. They stared at him offensively, and turned back.

Meanwhile, an older warrior, fresh faced with a blue ribbon in his brown hair gazed around himself, the cries of children and mothers eminating all around him.
'Musn't let Star-Tip recognize me...' he thought, turning his glance from the old man.
But straight infront of him was a younger warrior he knew as Ayrvyn. Now Ayrvyn didn't know that the he was a she. Hopefully.