The right (write) to an Education - Summer Learning Journey

 Hiya,

For this post we were asked to write a short story at least 10 sentences long. Mine is below. I decided to write about siblings going on a long journey to find something.  This makes my total 40 points :D

Arya slipped on the snowy steps, her usual easy grace evaporating into the mist steaming in the air.

“Arya.” Her brother, Orak, pushed a lock of ink-black hair behind her pointed ear. He gestured up the

mountain. “You see?” Peering up at the steep cliff, head tilted back, Arya silver eyes flashed in the

moonlight. “No.” 

A shadow flickered at the summit, and Orak pointed. “There. That’s our target.” 

Approximately three hours later, when Arya’s legs had turned to overcooked noodles, they reached the

snow capped tip. Arya breathed in the clean, fresh air and smiled. “Smells like those apples mum used to

grow.”

Orak nodded. “Yes, but-”

Arya yeled as she noticed a shadow, a dark spot of something crawling towards them from behind  rock.

The shadow swopped in, located its target and dove. Orak shoved Arya out of harms way and lept

to the left, slamming into the snow with a wet crack. Arya screamed, realising he had landed on a sharp

rock which tore into his side. The shadow assumed the shape of a massive raven and clawed Arya

across the face, she yelped in outrage and lashed out with her knife, opening a long wound along its

wing. Arya had assumed the blade wouldn’t connect with anything, she was about as shocked as the

bird when it fell at her feet, a cloud of snow rising from the frosty grass. Arya raised the knife and

finished the job before rushing to her brother’s side. “Orak.” She breathed, a tear trickling down her cheek

and freezing before it hit the snow. “Orak, no!” Arya shook his shoulder. “Don’t leave me too.”-

Desperate, she pushed her hands on the wound- a long gash the width and length of her graceful

forearm- and called on her magic. Arya was a fighter, not a healer, though all elves are taught basic

healing magic at a young age. 

Orak coughed, blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. “No.” He pushed her away weakly. “Don't…

don’t waste your energy... “ a cough rattled in his chest. “On me.” 

A ragged gasp escaped his lips as Arya pushed harder on the wound, closing her eyes and forcing the

gash to heal. “You’re all I have left.” She was crying now, big, hot ugly sobs which racked her whole body.

“I can’t let you die too.”