Shanaya of Allidale
image source: google images
Shanaya sat with her back leaning against the firm bamboo posts of the fence that kept Old Salloa’s sheep away from the river. The Allidale River was unlike most; unaffected by the winds that rushed above the mountains, the river was completely flat. It’s stillness made it more of a lake than anything else. In fact, without stepping into it, one could never even know that it flowed down and out to the sea at the Senetail Estuary. The river’s deep blue hue bore a stark contrast to the vibrant yellows and greens of the land. The fluffy clouds billowed across the cobalt skies, etching straight lines across where the winds pushed condensation outwards. Shanaya pushed her palms into the soft moist grasses and allowed the sweet smell of the honeysuckles to fill her lungs. She let out a long sigh and closed her eyes. The lulling noises of the songbirds whistling with the winds weaving through the topiary of the forest behind her sent her gently into a peaceful slumber. Shanaya awoke to the cacophony of frantic galloping. Her eyes opened and just as they did, hooves passed directly next to her, sending her rolling backwards down the hill and towards the river.
“Watch where you’re going you imbecile!” she roared in the direction of the rider, who was but a dark silhouette standing directly in front of where the sun sat in the skies.
“You’d do well to watch your tongue,” barked a young man’s voice.
She felt the anger seeping into her mind and coloring her eyes red. Shanaya picked up a stone from the riverbank and smirked.
“Yeah? Well you’d do well to watch your face,” she said, throwing it with all her strength. Her aim was true as always and the rider fell from his high horse with a scream. The horse, startled, neighed loudly and galloped into the woods.
The rider sat cowering on the ground, face in his hands.
“Serves you right for being such an ass,” Shanaya taunted, “Maybe next time you’ll be-” she stopped mid sentence, noticing the clothes the rider wore. They were very fancy - of royal quality. From the corner of her eye, she noticed something glinting in the grasses a few feet away; the Crown of Valenkita. The rider was Prince Gorneth, the future King of Allidale.