Fawcetta

 Low, gray winter clouds hung over high mountains like a dingy blanket over a dirty old couch.  A cool morning breeze carried the soft sounds of nature through the valley trees.  Stillness permeated the morning even with the gently flowing river nearby.

Without warning the tranquility was broken by the crash of breaking twigs and thrashing brush.  “Try and keep up!” cried a girl’s voice.

A young princess named Nerysta tore her way through the heavy underbrush on the tail of a sematar.  The animal’s four powerful legs thrust as it dodged quickly around trees, over bushes, and through murky puddles, its tail streaming out behind it.  The rust brown wings were securely tied to its sides so that it wouldn’t ruin the game by flying away.

Nerysta would have fallen behind quickly if her legs weren’t so long and well muscled from hours and hours of playing this game.  All the training she shared with her brother and best friend had honed her body to a beautifully sculpted fighting machine.

The woman noticed the sematar in front of her beginning to turn.  Cutting across the wooded path, she took the beast by surprise.  One quick leap carried her gracefully over the head of the fleeing sematar.  Its blue collar came off in her hand without a snag.

“That’s two!  I’ve only got one to go!” she yelled into the forest at the top of her lungs. 

A burst of brown shot at her from the trees, making her dive to the ground to get her head out of the way of the leaping creature.

“That’s not fair!” Nerysta cried as her big brother hopped off the back of the newly arrived sematar.  The princess stood indignantly, wiping at the dust clinging thickly to her knees.

“What’s not fair, little sister?  We never agreed how we would track the beasts, now, did we?”  The handsome prince laughed even as Nerysta spotted only one red collar on his belt.  The body of a god and the genius of a war general apparently hadn’t helped him find his sematars.

Nerysta playfully pushed her brother out of the way as she headed back into the trees.  “You always find a way around the rules, Denucian.  It’s funny how infrequently it helps you win.”

Denucian launched himself at the dark haired woman, tackling her to the ground.  Nerysta, used to her brother’s rough-housing, quickly maneuvered her body through the moves her mother had drilled into her head and had the prince pinned to the ground in less than a minute.

“What?” Denucian laughed when he saw her still scowling.  “Did we make a rule against getting a ride?  From a sematar, I mean?”  He’d added that last part because they had made a rule against getting rides from sky-cycles a year ago after Denucian had won a game doing that. 

Nerysta let her brother off the forest floor and, without brushing herself off this time (mostly because she knew that it would get into her brothers nerves), walked to the sematar that had borne her brother into the clearing.  “Poor baby.  Did this animal hurt you?” she asked as she gently pet the feline’s nose.

Denucian, as heir to the entire planet Fawcetta, was much more image conscious and perhaps a little vain.  He brushed off his black riding pants, his dark copper jacket, straightened his pristinely white under-shirt, and scraped the dirt off his shiny black boots before taking the time to answer the insult.&nb