Ellewyn's Origin

The sun set red, blending the orange sky with the trees and shadows. The snow-capped mountains sparkled as the last of the sunlight bounced off the tips. The valley they were in shadowed the entire gord and small meadow. There a young couple lived, with their 2 daughters, baby son, and another one on the way. Mere farmers meant to provide for a small section of the gord. They lived by the entrance, to make their work easier. Supper was being served, a large bowl of bear stew. Thick chunks of bear meat mixed with lettuce, tomatoes, and carrots.
“I think the farm is coming along nicely. We should be ready to harvest soon.” The father said as the eldest daughter climbed into his lap. She was barely 8 years old, and helped her father during the day. “I overhead the General-Deity say that winter is coming early this year.”
“I don’t think we’ll have enough for the winter. How did you overhear?”
“Didn’t you hear? She was going around, doing inspections on the crops. We’ve had a blessing this year.” The mother placed a bowl of the stew in front of her husband, and another in a different spot for her eldest.
“Didn’t seem so, they way you’ve been fussing over the farm this year.”
He nodded as he drank a bit of the soup. It was too hot, but he couldn’t spit it back out now. So he settled for a burned tongue. The wife noticed and rolled her eyes.
The other two children were served. With the exception of slurping sounds and deep breaths, all was quiet. The gord’s bell rang. Only one ring, which mean a fire. The couple rose from their seats to have a look out the door. Down on the opposite end of the gord, smoke could be seen rising from a house. The oldest child tried squeezing past to see, but her parents pushed her back in.
A commotion was rising as some had run out to grab buckets of water from the river to put out the fire. After a while, smoke rose from a neighboring house. Then another, and another. By then whispers of invaders had reached their ears.
“Look!” A person in the crowd pointed to an object a distance away, on the roof. A black spot, fuzzy, with antlers.
A heartbeats moment was all it took for the crowd to scream in panic. They ran into their homes. Doors slammed, windows closed, but the screams didn’t stop. Footsteps ran by, with angry calls for victory. The eldest child peeked out the window. Men and women carrying a variety of makeshift weapons were marching and shouting their way towards where the praka was spotted. The General-Deity lead the crowd towards the back of the gord.
Those near the gates were already prepping to leave, the family of 5 included. The fires had reached the front, covering everything in smoke, making it exhausting to simply breath. The father held his wife close, holding her want with one of his, and a hoe in the other. The wife held a large butcher knife.
The eldest child held hands with her sister, who held hands with her brother. The followed closely behind their parents, but with the commotion in the crowd, they wedged themselves in between. “Mother! Father!” the child tried shouting, but she was no louder than a fly by a waterfall.
Soon their parents were out of view and a number of people had forced themselves in front of her. The smog had gotten thicker and her brother was coughing, slowing. The children were forced to follow the crowd, towards the mountains.
When they were close enough, the oldest child realized they were being pushed towards the cave. That was when the people in the front had screamed out. The crowd changed directions, the opposite way. Now they were running. She knew she had to run too, or else be trampled. However her brother couldn’t keep up. He was pushed, and had let go as he fell to the ground.
Her sister wanted to stop, but the oldest payed no attention. More pushing and shoving had the oldest gripping tightly to her hand, but it was no use. She too was lost to the crowd.
The entrance was in sight a few seconds later that felt more like an eternity. The crowd stopped, and the noise turned to a whisper. The child tried jumping but couldn’t see why no one was moving.
Suddenly the crowd split, and ran in all different directions. Several praka were running down the crowd, attempting to catch them. The child ran, and spotted a pitchfork a few feet away. She grabbed it, and turned just in time to see a praka spot her.
It ran up to her, snarling, as it stood on two feet. Tall, was her only thought. When it lurched at her, she stuck the pointed ends toward it. It ducked, grabbed the pitchfork, and yanked it out of her hands in one fluid motion. The child turned to run away, but the praka instead grabbed her by the hair and began to drag her towards the entrance.
There dozens of praka awaited. Burnt corpses and live people alike. Some hog tied, some headless or had any other number of limbs missing. Some had their eyes gorged out, or a reproductive organ cut off, leaving holes. Rivers or red ran down their bodies in some way.
The prakas looked amongst each other. Some held on to torches. It was then she realized they had started the fire. When they began uttering low uvular sounds and clicks, she thought for a moment they might have a language. But what kind of language sounds like that? She didn’t have much time to sort out that thought, because she was tossed in icy river without a second of warning.
–
“She’s breathing. Bring her to the bench inside. Someone get a rag and call for Anna.”
–
The child coughed, causing herself to wake up. When she came to, she was dressed in a plain nightgown and resting in a bed. A priestess was sitting by her bed, praying. When she heard the child cough, she stopped to look up. She gasped, and held her hand. “Goddess be graceful, you’re alive. Baniedth smiles on you, girl.” Tears were in her eyes. “My names Anna.”
The child looked around. A stone room, with only a bed she was in. “Ellewyn.”
“Ellewyn. A beautiful name. It means The demand of the wind. Let me get Lenofric.”