Tara and the Great Mountain (standard:fantasy, 6471 words)
Author: mykemyk	Added: Jul 10 2005	Views/Reads: 3286/2164	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Tara becomes the keeper of her father's kingdom...

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

She could have lifted her tankard high in the air...her father would 
have. But, she was not her father. 

As the sun struggled to push the moon out of the way, she was still
riding. In the distance, the great mountain loomed before her. As a 
girl, it had stood as a symbol of hope. She had listened to her father 
talk of how, one day, they would leave the valley. They would leave the 
violence, pilfering, and plundering behind. They would live atop the 
great mountain. They would be free. 

At the age of nine, her father had left them. She had been awakened, in
the night, by the sound of a single horse's hoofs as they moved along 
the trail away from their home in the valley. At first, she thought 
she'd been dreaming. When morning came, she'd found her mother, Ayla, 
standing alone in the small "main room" of their shack. "Your father 
has gone away", she had said flatly. "I do not know when he will 
return...I just know that, one day, he will!" 

Three years later, he had returned. He had, as he had put it, "roamed
the mountain". Tara could still vividly recall the look on her father's 
face when he spoke of what he had discovered. "The mountain is almost 
as big around as it is tall", he'd said. "There is no way up for a man 
on a horse", he'd continued. "But", he said smiling, "There is a place 
where a man can be as free as a bird on the top of that mountain!" 

The very next day, they had left for the mountain. Mother had never
known any other kind of life but that of the valley. Tara could tell 
that she was fearful of leaving the life she had always known behind 
her. Yet, there was something in the eyes of my father that had 
convinced her that she would not be disappointed in following him. 

Tara could still recall the feelings she had experienced as they drew
close to the great mountain. It was exactly as her father had described 
it to her and her mother. The walls of the mountain looked smooth and 
shiny in the sunlight. There seemed to be no way they could possibly 
climb the great rock that seemed to reach into the heavens. As they 
came to the very base of the mountain, Tara's father walked over to a 
clump of brush that seemed to have been blown by the wind...settling 
into a spot near the base of the mountain. Working carefully, her 
father had uncovered a large ladder. It had been made of branches that 
had been tied between two long limbs of a tree. As Tara and her mother 
watched, her father had placed the ladder at the base of the great 
mountain and had positioned it so that the end rested on a small ledge 
that had been carved out of the rock. As Tara stood there, at the base 
of the huge mountain, she began to pick out other small ledges that had 
been carved out of the mountain. Looking carefully, she began to trace 
a trail of ledges that led very close to the very peak of the mountain. 
Her father had spent three years making a trail that would take them to 
a place where, as he'd put it, a man would be as free as a bird. 

It took the three of them nearly two full days to reach their new home.
Her father would put the ladder in place; they would climb to the next 
ledge, and pull the ladder up after them. At the end of the first day, 
they had spent the night on a large ledge...nearly half way up the 
mountain. The ledge had been made by the winds and the rains...as if 
her father's gods had prepared a place for him to rest. At the end of 
the second day, just as the sun was giving way to the moon, they had 
reached another ledge. Beyond the ledge...and behind a large boulder 
that stuck out from the mountain, was the entrance to a cave. Pulling 
the ladder up, Tara's father had drug it inside the cave and had laid 
it gently on the cavern floor. Taking their hands, Tara's father led 
Tara and her mother over to the side of the cave. "Put your hands 
against this wall", he had said. "Just follow the wall of this cave." 

For several hours, Tara, her father, and mother walked deeper into the
cave. In the darkness, it was hard to keep a sense of direction. But 
the aching of her knees told Tara that the cave seemed to be winding 
upward. After several more hours of walking, Tara had noticed the cave 
had begun to get lighter. She could now see her hand in front of her 
face. At first, she imagined that her eyes were just getting used to 
their new surroundings...somehow, getting used to the darkness. She did 
not say anything about it until her mother exclaimed, "Dalkon, it is 
getting lighter in here...we must be heading toward an opening in this 
cave." Suddenly, as if the god's had decided to smile upon Ayla, as 
they rounded a bend in the cave, light broke through the darkness. Tara 
remembered having to rub her eyes as they readjusted to what seemed 
like the brightest light she had ever seen. As they moved slowly 
forward, they left the darkness completely. Before them lay a vast 
stretch of land, green and glorious. As they walked farther into the 
sunlight, Tara's father turned to her and her mother, smiled, and said, 
"We are standing on the very top of the great mountain. Welcome to your 
new home!" 

******* 

In the months that followed, Tara had explored her new homeland. The
fields of grass were green...far greener than any she had seen in the 
valley. Her father told her that the gods brought rain to the top of 
the great mountain, first, and then allowed it to travel down to the 
valley. He had told her that only the richest of rains ever fell upon 
the mountain...that what the valleys received were simply "the 
droppings" that the great mountain refused to drink. The soil was black 
as midnight and moist to the touch. Her father had told her that the 
gods had placed the rich soil here...knowing that, one day, someone, 
with vision, would harvest its wealth. 

Although her father had spoken of the rich veins of gold and ore he had
discovered within the walls of the cave, he'd said that no discovery 
had been more precious than that of the dinks. Amused at the looks from 
his wife and daughter, Dalkon had tried to describe them. "Call to 
memory the grandest stallion you can imagine. Dress him in the finest 
coat of armor, and you have a dink!" Tara's father had named the 
creature himself. He had been roaming the vast landscape of the 
mountain and had come upon an entire herd. Cautiously, he had crept 
along until he'd come within bowshot. Quickly plucking an arrow from 
pouch on his back, he had drawn his bow and released its fury. As the 
arrow reached its target, it simply bounced as though it had struck a 
rock. "Dink", said the arrow as it fell harmlessly to the ground. From 
then on, he'd referred to these creatures as "dinks". For weeks, Dalkon 
had studied these horses that the gods had coated in armor. Their skin 
looked much like the shell of a tortoise. There was no chink in their 
armor...only the belly of the creature was left exposed. On their feet, 
they were absolutely impossible to bring down. After weeks of study, 
Dalkon had decided to make an attempt to blind the creature. He had 
picked the biggest dink of the herd...a large male that seemed to be 
the leader. He'd shot an arrow into the creatures eye. At first, the 
huge animal had reared, snorted, and pranced about. Quickly, Dalkon had 
sent an arrow speeding rapidly toward the creature's other eye. Totally 
blinded, Dalkon watched the animal stumble about until it finally 
stumbled to the ground. With the animal struggling to get up, Dalkon 
shot several arrows into its soft underbelly. Before Dalkon could reach 
the animal, its soul had already risen to ride the wind. 

Dalkon had skinned the creature. Starting at the dinks underbelly, he
had managed to separate the thickened hide from the body of the horse 
like creature. He'd been amazed to discover that the hide, though 
strong as any armor he had ever encountered, was light in weight. He 
had taken the hide back to his camp, dug a pit, filled it with water, 
and had dumped in lots of herbs and minerals he had found in exploring 
the great mountain. He found that, after a day of soaking in the 
minerals, the hide became soft and easy to cut. He had quickly pieced 
together a set of armor from the hide. Finished, he'd laid his creation 
out in the sun to dry. After a few hours in the sun, he could see that 
the hide was changing back into its former state. Though still light, 
it was able to withstand any attempt to pierce it. It was the finest 
set of armor that Dalkon had ever seen. 

Excited, Dalkon had killed another dink, skinned it, and had thrown the
hide into the pit of minerals. This time, he'd left it lying in the pit 
for nearly a week. This time, he had sewn himself a fine jacket. After 
several days in the sun, the jacket was still as soft as when he'd 
first taken it from the pit. Soon, he had an entire set of outer 
clothes he had made from the dink hides. Though soft, they did not 
allow a drop of water to touch his skin which hid beneath them. It 
seemed to hold the heat and drive away the cold. To Dalkon, the dink 
and its hide was a treasure whose worth was beyond anything he had ever 
seen or imagined. He was convinced that the gods had placed the 
creature in this place knowing, that one day; someone would come to 
find them. If there was anything more precious than dink hide, it was 
the meat that lay beneath the creature's armor. Moist, sweet, and 
tender...the meat, when properly cooked, was a feast that no king had 
ever enjoyed. For Dalkon, the dink was a possession whose worth simply 
could not be measured. 

When the gods took the warmth from the winds, Tara and her parents moved
deep into the cave. Dalkon built a great fire that would last until the 
gods allowed the wind to warm again. Exposed to the light from the 
fire, Tara studied the beauty of the cave. Her father told her that the 
cave was a gift from the gods. It was a far greater castle than any 
king had ever thought of building. It was fortified in such a simple 
way, yet, it stood invincible. A handful of men could protect its 
borders. It was, for Tara's father, the kind of kingdom he had never 
dared ask the gods for. To Dalkon, the gods had laid paradise at his 
feet and had asked him to be its guardian. 

With the warmth of the wind having gone and come again, Dalkon sat his
family down to talk with them. He had wrestled with the gift the gods 
had given him. He thought it terribly unfair that they should enjoy 
such a paradise when others in the valley...just as worthy, still lived 
amongst that which Dalkon had so desperately sought deliverance from. 
Tara and Ayla sat quietly as Dalkon told them of how he wanted to 
return to the valley and bring others to this new kingdom. He told them 
he would bring the families one at a time. When they had constructed a 
dwelling that was suitable for the warm wind, he would return to the 
valley for another family. When the gods took the warm wind away, they 
could all dwell together in the cave. 

For the next couple of years, Dalkon had gone down to the valley and had
returned with families. Tara had found herself thinking that either 
Dalkon was most persuasive or the gods had gone before him and placed a 
hunger in the hearts of the families he went to see. Each time he took 
his ladder and descended the mountain, he returned with a family. Soon 
there were fifty people living on the great mountain. 

The warm winds had left and returned seventeen times in Tara's life. The
great mountain had enabled her to live just as her father had promised. 
There was nothing to fear in this paradise. The stories of robbers, 
pilfering, and plundering had been all but forgotten. The gods had 
truly honored her father. He had been led to a place that many, given 
the chance, would have traded all they own to experience. She did not 
understand why her father had begun to frown and stare at the sky as 
much as he'd done lately. She knew that many he had brought to the new 
land had begun to talk of the money that could be made from trading the 
clothes and armor made from the dink hides. She had heard the men speak 
of how they could take what they had made to the outer edge of the 
valley. They could meet with traders as they left the valley and sell 
the hides there. There would be no need to go back to the place where 
they had left. They would only go close enough to meet with the 
traders. 

Tara could not help but wonder why her father was so upset with such
ideas. Surely there would be nothing wrong with trading what they had 
made with others. What harm could there be if they did not go back into 
the valley they had left? 

The warm winds were still blowing softly when Tara's father told her and
her mother that he was going down the great mountain. Tara watched her 
father closely as he told her and her mother that the men had insisted 
they take some of the hides down into the valley and barter with the 
traders that come through before the warm winds were chased away by the 
gods. As he spoke with them, Tara saw sadness come over her father she 
had not seen since she was a child. "Greed is a poison...once inside a 
man, it does terrible things." Dalkon told them. "Is it not enough that 
we have found this wonderful life? Why would we allow the gods to think 
we are so ungrateful for what they have provided? Greedily asking for 
more can do nothing but anger the gods that have chosen to smile upon 
us." 

The following morning, Dalkon and four other men had started their
descent down the great mountain. Tara could still remember the look on 
his father's face as he turned to wave at them. She had not seen the 
expression on her father's face in so many years...not since she had 
been very young. It seemed to be a mixture of both sadness and fear. 

Ayla had told Tara that her father knew exactly what he was doing.
Although he did not agree with the other men, he knew that he was 
responsible for bringing them to the great mountain. The gods had 
entrusted him with the keeping of its secrets. He had to go with them. 
There was no other choice for him but to go. 

Tara knew that it would be days before her father returned. She did not
think she could wait for the sun and the moon to make the long trips 
necessary to allow her father's return. To pass the time, Tara set out 
to make a surprise for her father. 

One of the men that had come to the great mountain was a miner. He had
come to mine the ore that her father had told him was encased in the 
mountain. He had found much ore in the time he had spent in this 
paradise. A miner and blacksmith by trade, Tara had decided to ask him 
for a great favor. "Boda", she began, "I want to make a sword for my 
father. I want it to be the kind of sword that would be found in the 
hands of a great king." The kind old man looked lovingly at the girl 
who stood before him and said, "You and I both know that your father 
is, indeed, king of this great mountain. If it is a fine sword you 
want, then a fine sword is what Boda will make." With that, he had 
turned to begin the making of a sword that, Tara knew, would be fit for 
a king. 

Next, she went to visit Fila. He and his wife had been the first family
her father had brought to the mountain. Dalkon had shown him all the 
special ways to handle the dink hides. He and Fila had spent hour's 
together, killing, skinning, and harvesting the rich hides from the 
powerful creatures my father had discovered on the mountain. "Very 
well", Fila had answered, when Tara had asked for a special suit of 
armor to be constructed. "Your father is not a big man", Fila had 
stated flatly. "In fact, the way you have grown, I can measure you and 
be safe in knowing that it will fit your father." 

Having put her father's oldest friends to work, Tara decided that she
would make four daggers for her father. She would make a belt for him 
out of the dink hides that would hold all four of them. As she began 
her work, she thought of how pleased her father would be with her 
gifts. Everything would be made from that which the gods had made him 
caretaker of. She was sure that he would be proud of what she had done. 


The sun had come and gone 8 times when Hagan, one of the men who had
gone down the mountain with Tara's father, came stumbling from out of 
the cave. He was covered in blood. He had been stripped of all his 
clothes and had cuts and bruises all over his body. When he saw Tara's 
mother, Ayla, he dropped to his knees and began to sob uncontrollably. 
As if the gods had already spoken to Tara's mother, Ayla turned to walk 
back toward the dwelling she, Dalkon, and Tara had shared together. 
There was no need for her to listen to the story Hagan had to tell. She 
already knew. Dalkon was dead! 

********** 

Tara, like her mother, did not need to hear the story that Hagan was
ready to tell. She knew her father was dead. She didn't know how she 
knew...she just knew. Determined to carve his death, forever, into her 
memory, she stood bravely and listened to Hagan as he relayed to the 
rest of the people what had befallen them in the valley. 

"Dalkon was right", Hagan began tearfully. "The gods were not happy with
the greed that possessed us. We met the traders as they came up out of 
the valley. They looked at what we had and wanted to know where we had 
gotten it. When Dalkon told them that we were there to trade and would 
not tell from whence these treasures came, they became angry and 
threatened to kill us. Dalkon stepped in front of the rest of us and 
told them that he was the only one who knew the whereabouts of the 
treasures we had in our possession. One of the men told Dalkon to call 
upon the gods for help...as Dalkon closed his eyes, the man pulled his 
sword and...And..." Hagan stopped to look at the people he was talking 
to. It was as if he were measuring them, unable to decide if they would 
be able to understand what he was about to say. Still looking unsure, 
he gasped and shouted, "Dalkon's tongue was still moving when it left 
his body to rest in the dirt!" Hagan put his head in his hands and wept 
bitterly. "The others", he said, “they killed slowly. When they turned 
to face me, I fell to my knees and begged for my life. The man who had 
killed Dalkon laughed and said that I, a sniveling coward, was not 
worthy to die as the others had. Instead, they stripped me of my outer 
garments and told me to run away. I ran until I came to the base of the 
mountain. I did not want to come back here...to tell such a horrible 
story. But, the gods have decided that it is to be my punishment.  I 
have shamed the gods and all who have ever loved me. I don't know what 
we are going to do now. I am so afraid!" With that, Hagan ran toward 
his dwelling near the entrance of the cave. 

The next few months had been terrible for Tara. With her father now
dead, the place she had grown to love had now lost the glow it had once 
possessed. On several occasions, she had gone to her room to look at 
the things she'd had made for her father. The sword was magnificent. 
Its blade was broad and heavy. Her father would have been so proud of 
it. 

It was on a sunny day, several months after her father's death, when
Tara first felt the gentle nudging coming from deep within her. It was 
as if the sword she'd had made for her father was calling out to her. 
She found herself going to her room to gaze at it. As she picked it up, 
she thought of Hagan...of the horrible story he'd told about her 
father's death. He had died bravely. He held no sword in his hand, yet, 
he had stood to face those who had challenged him. He had died while 
calling upon the gods to strengthen him. Tara had no quarrel with the 
gods. Her father had told her they would be angry. Her anger was fixed 
on those who had killed her father. 

Leaving her room, Tara had gone to see Fila, the one who had made her
father's armor. She had not been to see him since Hagan had returned 
with the horrible news about her father's death. She knew that Fila had 
finished the armor. He was to have brought it to Dalkon when he 
returned from the valley. He was sitting outside his dwelling and saw 
her approaching. Instead of waiting for her, he had gone 
inside...leaving the door open...inviting her in. As Tara entered 
Fila's dwelling, she found him standing there, holding the armor he'd 
made for her father. Without either of them saying a word, Fila began 
to help Tara put on the armor. When finished, Fila stepped back and 
said, "Tara, it is a perfect fit...I knew you would be coming for 
it...I didn't know when, I just knew you would be coming." Without 
giving her a chance to respond, he had gone into another room. When he 
returned, he stood before her holding a sheath...made of dink hide. As 
Tara examined it, Fila spoke softly. "It is made for a female 
warrior...it is worn on the back...you pull the sword out and over your 
shoulder." "It is perfect", Tara had responded. 

A few days later, Tara had awakened to the sound of her mother in the
main room of their dwelling. The sun had not yet been able to push the 
moon from its perch. The birds were not yet singing their song of the 
morning. Slipping into her outer garments, Tara stepped through the 
doorway leading from her room into the main room of their dwelling. As 
she entered, Ayla spoke without looking up from the meal she was 
preparing. "I know you are leaving...I have known for some time. I 
don't want you to go. But, I know you, Tara. I know how much you loved 
your father. I know you will not rest until you kill...or are killed by 
those who took his life. I wanted to cook for you...one last time...I 
wanted to sit and look at the woman my daughter has become." 

Tara had said nothing in answer to her mother's words. There really
wasn't anything to say. Her mother had been right. She was leaving. She 
was going down the mountain to kill or be killed. It seemed better to 
simply sit and talk about the life they had shared together...to talk 
of the love they had for each other. She could not stop her mother from 
worrying. She could not stop herself from leaving. She chose to simply 
talk of what they had shared. What Tara was about to do, she could 
share with no one. It was something she would do alone. 

She had left the valley as a child...hoping she would never have to
return. She knew that after she had killed those who had taken her 
father's head, she would go into the valley again...she wanted the 
people there to know that her father, though silenced, would never be 
dead...that he would live, through her, and through those who called 
the great mountain their home. 

****** 

The long climb down from the top of the great mountain gave Tara a lot
of time to think. She would not hurry to kill those who had murdered 
her father. No amount of time would ever cause her anger to lessen. She 
would harness her fury, and refine it. She would carefully plot her 
moves...positioning herself so as to cause maximum damage with little 
or no movement. Time was not an enemy...it was now her most trusted 
ally. With a pouch full of arrows, four daggers, and a broad sword, she 
could kill twenty men. Since the traders usually moved in groups of 
five to ten, she would be able to kill two groups of traders easily. 
She would pilfer and plunder them. Her arrows and daggers would feast 
on their bodies and the blade of her sword would taste blood...again 
and again. 

On the ground, Tara had walked the narrow trail leading up from the
valley. There were several places where an ambush could take place. At 
the furthest point from the valley, a grove of trees stood growing 
together. As she walked along the grove, she noticed how the branches 
and limbs came together...as if the trees had locked arms, refusing to 
be separated. From these limbs, Tara could leap from one to the other, 
unleashing a volley of arrows that would drop five or six men before 
they could figure out where she was. By that time, she would be ready 
to drop to the ground, throwing her daggers and unleashing the fury of 
the broad sword that lay quietly against her back. 

Tara felt no fear as she walked the trail, mentally planning her attack.
She knew the gods had taken the time to prepare her. On the great 
mountain, she had learned to take the sight of a running dink with just 
two arrows. Her father had told her that the gods had touched her hands 
and eyes...making them one with the bow and arrow. She had chopped wood 
for the entire village...her arms had become as strong as the legs of a 
dink. Her father, while watching her chop wood, had told her that the 
swing of her axe was swift as the lightning that the gods sometimes 
hurled from the heavens to announce the coming rains. 

Over and over, Tara walked the narrow limbs above the trail below her.
She soon came to the place where she could run the gauntlet of trees as 
fast as the little furry creatures that lived amongst them. Satisfied, 
she settled peacefully in the grove to await the traders. 

She knew of the traders that visited the valley. They traded trinkets
brought from far away lands for the hunters and trappers pelts and 
hides. Often slave mongers traveled with them. These men dealt in 
blood. They bought the women, young girls, and boys taken from their 
homes in the valley and sold them into lives of slavery and bondage. 
Stories were told of how they sometimes ripped the clothes from the 
women and young girls...raping them publicly to see how they would 
perform. 

Tara did not know how many men she would kill...she would kill until the
gods told her to stop...until her father's death had been avenged. What 
she would do next was still hidden from her. She did not seem to have 
the energy to think beyond killing...the rage within her was still too 
strong. After her fury had been unleashed and emptied...after her sword 
had drank its fill of blood, she would consider her future. 

The sun had forced the moon from view 6 times when Tara finally saw the
dust rising from the trail that led into the valley...the traders were 
coming. Quickly she climbed up into what had become her watchtower. 
There was a wagon and five horsemen approaching. With the two in the 
long flat wagon, there were 7 men she would soon kill. She waited, 
motionless, as if the cold winds had come and turned her body to stone. 
She allowed the entire band to pass under her...letting the last 
horseman enter the gauntlet the gods had prepared before pulling her 
first arrow from her pouch. By the time the first rider had fallen from 
his horse, three other men had arrows resting deep within their hearts. 
Tara was halfway through the trail of limbs when she dropped into the 
wagon that was following the lead horseman. The two men in the wagon 
had turned to look behind them...their heads following the sound of 
death, carried to their ears in the screams of those who had been 
riding behind them. Before they could allow their eyes to land upon the 
misery that had befallen their allies, their heads had fallen from 
their bodies...like ripened melons, they hit the ground with a dull 
thud. Kicking their bodies from the wagon, Tara turned her gaze to the 
lone rider ahead of her. He had pulled his horse up and had turned to 
face her. She had watched him as he looked at the others lying in the 
dusty trail. She waited for his eyes to travel their path, looking for 
signs of life...life that for six other men, no longer existed. His 
eyes showed no sign of fear, or of anger. Without speaking, he lightly 
nudged his horse and began to close the distance between them. Tara 
looked at his armor...it was made of dink hide. 

"I can see by your armor that you are a warrior", he said roughly. "I
can see by yours, that you are a thief!" she replied. Again, he nudged 
his horse, allowing him to move closer to Tara. Satisfied that he was 
within striking distance, he pulled his horse up and said, "Since you 
recognize this armor, you know that your arrows, daggers, and sword are 
worthless to you." 

Tara slowly returned her sword to the sheath Fila had made for her. She
took her bow from her shoulder, and pulled an arrow from her pouch, and 
said, "I am afraid you are mistaken", she hissed. "There is a weakness 
I have found...discovered will killing the creature that used to wear 
this armor." With that said she swiftly sent an arrow, straight and 
true, into the one of the horseman's widening eyes. Before he could 
fall from his horse, a second arrow had found its mark. She watched in 
silence as he heavily fell to the ground. Tara sat down in the wagon. 
As she looked at his lifeless form, she took notice how the shafts of 
her arrows refused to allow his eyes to close in death. 

Tara did not know how long she had sat in the wagon. The streaks of
lightning, hurled from the heavens by the gods, told her it was time to 
move on. She had done what she had come down from the great mountain to 
do. She had avenged her father's death. 

****** 

Tara slowed her horse to a walk as she entered the grove. It, like the
great mountain, had become a place where she felt could speak openly to 
her father. It was as if his presence lingered here, and in the rich 
soil upon the great mountain. 

No one had followed her from the inn. The lone coward who had taken
refuge in the night had probably decided he would rather live alone 
than die with more of his friends. It usually happened that way. 

Since avenging her father's death, Tara had left the great mountain
several times. Whenever the gods came to her, to speak to her, in the 
stillness of her sleep, she would obey them. Sometimes it was to bring 
another family to the mountain. Often, it was to kill a band of slave 
mongers. Each time, she would always go into the valley...to move 
amongst those who dwelled there. To speak the words of Dalkon, king of 
the great mountain. 

As Tara carefully uncovered the ladder she had hidden at the base of the
great mountain, she thought, again of her father. She was living his 
dream. Her life had become what he'd intended his to be. As she began 
the long climb up the mountain, she thought to herself, "I am not 
living for myself; the life I am living is in honor of my father." 

Tara had become known as the Warrior Princess, daughter of Dalkon. She
did nothing to quiet the talk amongst the people who lived in the 
valley. Instead, she lived as her father had instructed her...as he had 
sought to live...as free as a bird. 


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