MIRROR - Chapter One

( Hello, this is a small part of my first chapter of my working novel MIRROR RORRIM in which a young girl, Elwryn Mirra, was abducted at that age of sixteen and forced to endure the horrors of war as a slave. This is her story. Tell me your thoughts, tell me the errors, tell why you hate it, why you like it... I want your opinion.

Thank you,)

Elwryn curled her lip as she was brutally shoved to the ground, raising a cloud of dust from the sunbeaten earth. Her dark gaze rose from the ground to glower at the passing soldier's rank stitched to the back of his coat on his shoulder blade. The triple golden stripes stitched into the coat winked in the afternoon sunlight, answering her glower mockingly. Elwryn licked her cracked lips, slowly rising to her feet and ignoring the sting of her skinned knees.

She narrowed her eyes against the glare of sunlight off the bleached sand, and brushed her rough-sewn cloth to rid it of the dirt. The taste of dirt on her tongue was something she was used to, as she clenched her teeth and she moved out of another soldier's way. At the hail of a command she pressed herself up against a servant's tent, and glanced to where a batallion of soldiers marched to where they would be issued their commands by a higher ranking officer. She watched as row upon row of soldiers marched passed, each foot rising and falling in perfect synchronisation.

Elwryn bit her lower lip, glancing at the badges on each soldier's forearm, their young faces etched in permanent scowl. Itching the back of her hand, she waited quietly, staying in the shadows as she prayed the soldiers would fail to notice her.

A sharp cry from the front of the batallion forced the entire procession to an abrupt halt. Elwryn held her breath, frozen in place at the sudden stop. Carefully, she attempted to inch towards the entrance of the tent, sliding her barefeet across the ground. Her hands tightened into fists as she tried to hurry, catching sight of the Lieutenant as he began to make rounds of the lines.

Elwryn felt her heartbeat race within the confines of her chest, using her foot to feel the ground as she slid away, ever-watchful of the Lieutenant. She held her breath as her foot connected with something solid; the sudden metallic sound of a kettle falling from its place atop a stool made her flinch. The Lieutenant's hand on his gun tightened, as he slowly turned around to face her. Elwryn felt her mouth go dry, her brow creasing as she tried to swallow the fear that knotted itself in her stomach.

"You there," the Lieutenant snapped, his tanned face marred with a multitude of scars. "What are you doing, standing about?"

Elwryn stood there, her hands shaking at her sides, staring wide-eyed at the Lieutenant, praying that somehow it wasn't to her whom he was addressing. The bald-headed Lieutenant curled his lip, jerking his gun in her direction, threateningly holding his finger on the trigger. "Do you have a tongue girl?" he demanded.

Hesitantly, she parted her lips but a sudden commotion brought both her and the Lieutenant to gaze towards where a soldier stumbled, rubbing his jaw. "Hays!" the name was barked just as the trigger was pulled.

Elwryn watched in stunned horror as the young-looking boy fell to his knees, his expression to be forever frozen in stunned surprise, collapsing onto his chest as blood began to puddle around his lifeless body. Her lips parted, a silent cry of despair never escaping the confines of her chest. The rows of boys shuffled in synchronisation, each row moving until the space where Hays had once stood was now filled by a replacing boy.

Elwryn stood frozen a moment before turning away, rushing into the tent with a pounding heart. She stayed at the side of the entrance, breathing hard at what she'd witnessed, grimly noting that shooting were such a comodity that none of the others even flinched anymore. A hand on her shoulder jolted her from the trance-like state in which she had strayed, and she flinched away from the contact.

"Girl, what're your orders?" demanded a red-headed girl, her freckled nose wrinkled in distaste at having to speak to her.

She bit her lip, refusing to speak, reminding herself that no one knew her name. No one knew who she was, and that was perfectly fine with her. Brushing away the woman's presence, she pushed herself to the back of the tent where an older girl stood scrubbing a pair of soldier's boots. Elwryn approached cautiously, her eyes narrowed as she began to grab another pair of scuffed boots, picking up a rough sponge and setting the boots upon the edge of the water tub. Her eyes squinted as she began to scrub at the mud and dirt that stained the pale brown of the boots. "You should have answered her, Elwryn," the woman chastised quietly, her water wrinkled hands scrubbed slowly at the worn leather of the boot.

Elwryn licked her lips, "I...I cannot..." she whispered, her voice hushed in such a way that it was barely audible above the commotion that was the servant's tent. She scrubbed more viciously, her fingers aching from the strain of holding the sponge.

"Elwryn," the woman hissed, eyeing the girl grimly.

With a careful placing of her hand, she stopped scrubbing. "Mara," she sighed, "I cannot. You know I am afraid." she murmured, hanging her head as she touched the water with her index finger, staring at her reflection. Wishing for the life she had lost when the men had come to her home at night and stolen her away from her family.

"Damn your cowardice!" she exclaimed, too loudly. Elwryn flinched at the sound of Mara's raised voice and immediately dropped the sponge and left the boot on the table. Mara watched in despair as Elwryn fled the tent, turning instead to the outside and watching as soldiers continued to march off to what could be their last stand in battle. She ducked her head, pale eyes narrowed as she hurried to get to her sleeping place for the night. Elwryn pulled, from the small pocket she'd sown, a small crumpled sheet of paper telling her the day's color code. Glancing at it briefly, she sighed, scanning the sky for any sign of the limp flag hanging from atop a ragged tent.

The sound of flesh against flesh brought her from her search, drawing her attention to two boys throwing fists with theirm ouths tightened into a thin line. Elwryn recognized one of the boys and rushed forward as he received a blow to his jaw. She paused when she realized that this would draw attention to herself, but the only thought now was that she couldn't allow them to fight when it would only earn them punishment. "Stop!" she croaked, her voice seldom used.

The boy she knew as Trew spun around, his tight-lipped mouth opening in surprise as he received a hard blow to his cheek. She gasped, stepping forward. "Stop!" she shouted, her brow furrowed. Trew tensed, watching as the other raised his hand for another jarring hit and as his fist flew forward, Trew jerked his hand upwards and caught the tight fist within his own. He twisted hard, listening and hearing the tell-tale cracking of the bone.