Peregrine of Dragon Valley: Chapter 1

 The valley had been very quiet the last few weeks.

Everything around the house was muted. It almost seemed..., as if she was alone in the fog... 

Still, Peregrine was content.

How could she not be? Her house was small but solid; the strong winds that ran through the valley did not make it fall.

She had a plentiful well, and the hay cart to go wherever she needed to go..., if she had somewhere to go...

Not that she "needed" to go places. She had much to do at home. She had her bow and arrows, and it was convenient to practice: She could enlarge her winter stores, right?

Why did she have that nagging feeling that she was forgetting something?

The cow shed behind the house, and the three cows, were a handful, especially whenever that darned black and white decided to take a tumble on her flank.

...or when she started making those symbols on the ground, as if she was trying to tell Peregrine something.

Peregrine shook her head, "Silly me! It's a cow! Cows can't think like people do. What do you think it could possibly try to tell you, silly Peregrine? You are just too lonely in here, like they say..."

Peregrine tried to think again, who had told her that, but she couldn't. It was getting late, so she walked to the house after making sure the cows where safe in their shed.

The house was small and simple. Her things were simple, too. A bed, a chest of drawers, a couple of chairs, that ridiculous blue hat hanging by the door...was it her hat? It must be, right? No body else lived with her. And yet, why couldn't she remember herself wearing the hat?

Or why could she see in her mind a moment when she wore that other thing, that mask hanging over the fireplace? Why would she ever wear that?

And that cauldron...the centerpiece of her house. The cauldron. Peregrine tried to ignore it as much as possible, but the thing was just...there.

The big, black, and inviting cauldron. She was sure that she was supposed to make great things with it, but she had failed to produce anything more substantial than a lean soup. If her mothers before her could see her, they would be on the floor with laughter, no doubt.

If she could only remember her mother! It hurt Peregrine deeply to realize that her mother, and all the others before her must have passed long time before, because she was not able to remember their faces or names. She felt that she was betraying her family by not remembering them.

She went to bed with her heart heavy with sorrow. Maybe in the morning she would be able to remember who they were...and who she really was?