The Day of Windraven

The Day of Selection

Another winter day, cold and harsh as always, and I am stuck inside this weary old house as always, Ashlena thought to herself.

In the desolate village of Girian, located in the North most part of Windraven, the snows piled up all year and when winter hit and the rest of the continent had its first flake fall, Girian was a white void An unaltered canvas with not a single brush stroke of color to be found.

But today was different. As usual, it was cold and harsh and the canvas was still white as a bunny's tail fluff, but today there was a litany of tents that dotted the otherwise bleak village. Small dots sprung up throughout the naked canvas of Girian, red, yellow, blue, and Ashlena's favorite, green. Her mother had always told her that green was the color of life.. The tents and their array of color came to Girian only once a year and only for one reason; Selection Day.

Ashlena used to love the Selection day festivities, but that was long ago when she was still just a child. Now the day haunted her and mocked her inability to smile like she once did. Ashlena, by all accounts, was a very beautiful young woman, long, wavy hair that shined gold like star light fell from her head to her shoulders. Her eyes were such a pleasant pale blue that even the snow fairy's themselves could get lost in them. Her lips were full, as well as pink, and her skin was almost as pale as the snow, twice as soft, and five times as warm. Yet a smile had not crossed her lips in quite some time.

She had always dreamed of being selected as one of the champions when she was little. The selection happened in every village throughout Windraven, and It was a great honor to be chosen. Her father had been chosen for his strength , courage, and sense of justice before she was born. Those who were chosen were inducted into The Order of the White Fang; a group of brave warriors who protected the people of Windraven from Wolves, Bears, Frost trolls, Ice wraiths, Glazegators and worst of all, Snow Dragons. She dreamed of being chosen like her father before her, and serving her people proudly like he did. She was brave, smart, caring, and had the same sense of justice as her father, and she would be a great and proud member of The White Fangs. But she would never be selected, for besides all her qualifications, she was a cripple.

Ashlena was born with a twisted leg. When she was younger, she would pray to the gods to fix her disfigured leg so that she might be able to play and run about with the other children in the slushy summer snow, but her prayers were never answered. As the years went on, all her optimism and hope drifted away like the passage of time. She was forced to hobble around place to place with the walking stick her only friend Garret had made her, and when winter hit she was almost always stuck inside as it was much too tiring for her to walk in the late year snows. So here she sat staring out the window mourning the death of a dream that never could have been. It was the same for the last eight years, Until there was a man at the door.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!!!

"Hello? Who is it?" Ashlena said as she slowly opened the door.

"Who do you think it is, silly?" said the boy at the door with messy, red hair and huge over the top spectacles that looked out of place upon the bridge of his nose.

"Garret! What are you doing here?! You're going to miss the selection ceremony!"

"I've come to get you, of course."

"I've told you many times before that I can't walk out in the high snows," Ashlena said, failing to hide the pain that had crept onto her face. Her voice faltered. "I can hear the selections fine from here."

"Nonsense! I will not go if you are not by my side."

"But..."

"But nothing. We are going, I have been working day and night on this new transportation device just for the occasion," Garret said, gesturing to the weird wheeled chair behind him.

Garret had always been quite a unique young man. He was quieter than most and rarely hung out with others his age. He had alway liked making things that helped people live easier, but for some strange reason, that Ashlena couldn't make out, he especially liked to help her. He always made new trinkets to help her around the house with her chores, or he would make funny looking little toys in a hope to make her smile, though it never worked.

"What is it you've made this time?" Ashlena asked, rolling her eyes.

"This grand invention I have here is what I'd like to call a wheelchair!"

"OH WOW! What a creative name."

"Shut Up. At least try it out will ya?"

"Okay okay but I ain't getting my hopes up."

Ahlena worked her way out of her chair beside the window and made her way over to the wheelchair that sat out on the porch as Garret was bouncing about with a great old smile on his face. She finally sat down and made herself comfortable.

"What now?"

"What now? Now it's time to go!"

Garret grasped the wooden handles that were on either side of the mobile chair and they were off. Ashlena's heart was pounding as the cold winter wind was blowing across her face and through her hair. The tents she had longed to approach were bursting by her in every color of the rainbow as Garret used all his strength to rush faster. They were heading to the selection ceremony, and for the first time in her life Ashlena would see it with her own eyes.

When they arrived, all of Girian was out in the village square. There were fire eaters, jugglers, contortionists, and mummers. It was all Ashlena hoped it to be and more. Then a Thundering voice cut through all the music and chatter of the square. It was The Selector.

"GOOD EVENING LADIES AND GENTLEMEN OF GIRIAN." He spoke like a great showman and his voice was projected through a blow horn that was carved in the shape of a giant White Fanged Raven's beak. "WE HAVE COME TO OUR SELECTION ON WHO WILL BE THE NEWEST MEMBER FROM THIS VILLAGE TO BECOME A WHITE FANG KNIGHT!"

The joy that Ashlena felt ceased, and all she could think about was how the name the selector said would never be hers.

Why should it pain me so, she thought. I've known for a long time now that me being a White Fang Knight was a hopeless and silly dream, but still it still hurts me! Why... Why... Why can't I fight for my dream like everyone else? Why must I give up while everyone else still gets to chase after their dream until they can't chase anymore? It isn't fair!

"THE SELECTED ONE IS MATHUS TUTTLE!"

The people of Girian erupted in applause.
Mathus Tuttle are you serious, Ashlena thought to herself. He was a bully and a right old coward. She would be a much better White Fang Knight than him, even with her twisted leg. Tears began to form in her eyes. Not only would she not be able to live out her dream but Mathus would.

"IF ANYONE THINK THEY ARE MORE FIT TO TAKE THE MANTLE SPEAK NOW!" The Selector concluded. The offer was a formality and no one had ever questioned a selection and pressed a challenge.

"So?" Garret whispered to Ashlena in a low voice.

"So What?!"

"Are you going to grasp the chance you have been given or are you going to let it slip away?"
"But no one has ever challenged The Selectors' decision!"

"There must alway be a first Ash."
Ashlena's heart was beating out of her chest. Was Garret right? Was this her chance to make her dream a reality? Time seemed to stand still as her mind ran at a million miles per second.

"AND WITH THAT THE CEREMONY IS COMPLE..."

"WAIT! I CHALLENGE THE SELECTION!!!"
Ashlena shouted out with all her strength.

The square went silent. Everyones was shocked beyond belief, except Garret, who was smiling as Ashlena realized what she had done. Her heart started to practically beat out of her chest, and for the first time in eight years a smile swept across her face. A smile so bright it could melt the coldest of snows.