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[Cinnamara]

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Cinnamara sighed, biting her bottom lip as she leaned against the wall of Hanses, looking out across the the land that lay before her. Her husband had been away on business, and she stood there, waiting for him to arrive home. It was odd for him to be gone so late, but she understood that at times his duties of Lord Commander kept him out late. She closed her eyes, breathing in the cool crisp air.

“Are you....Cinnamara?” a voice said. It jerked her from her peaceful rest, and she opened her eyes looking up.

“Yes,” she said, nodding gently.

“I bring word from Davaran,” he said, looking down to her, from the back of his horse. He spoke with a heavy Trinsic accent.

“From Davaran? Where is he?” she asked, frowning a bit, “Tis unlike him to be out this late,”

“He is hurt. He wants you to come help him.” the man said.

All the color drained from her face, “He is? Where is he?” she asked, taking a step froward.

“Come, “ the man said, offering her his hand, “There is not much time,”

She reached for his hand, and he pulled her up onto the back of his horse. As he did, a sharp pain accumulated in her hand. She gasped, jerking her hand back from him, holding it tightly.

“Hang on” he said, as he kicked his horse into a run down the road., “I'll take you to your Husband.”

She blinked slightly, closing her eyes. She did not feel well at all. Little did she know that the sharp pain in her hand was a mild poison, which was now finding its way though her veins. Her vision began to blur and she fought to keep consciousness. She tilted a bit, almost falling from the back of the horse, her hands fought to keep ahold of the back of the saddle.

Something was amiss here. Desperately, amiss. She gasped, as she lost consciousness, her hands letting go of the back of the saddle.

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Her mind slowly rose back into a state of consciousness. Her senses were dulled still from the poison, her sight blurry and her hearing muffled. The man stood infront of her.

“What are you doing?” she asked, or at least, she was sure she was speaking.

“Sacrifice,” her hearing couldn't pick up the rest of his words. She tried to move, finding herself chained against the wall.

“Tomorrow.” she heard last, as the world faded again, to black.
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Women's Motto: Live your life in such away, that when your feet hit the floor in the morning, the devil himself shudders and says, "Oh snap, She's awake!"