This is a book that I've been trying to write for some time. It's coming out good, but the only problem is that I can't think of a name for it. Help me, please? D8

Chapter One

Lorendale Forest is a desolate place, even in springtime. It is formed mainly of conifers, but there are also deciduous trees. A dry, cold wind rushes through them at night, making them creak and groan and thrash about like irritated poltergeists. Wild animals prowl in the shadows, their cries splitting the silence. It is a place where fears and superstition breed and thrive. The forest is surrounded on two sides by the Firefang Mountains, a place feared even more than Lorendale Forest. The mountains are inhabited by great fire-breathing beasts, known as dragons. Sometimes, but very rarely, dragons enter the forest. Everything is dead silent for hours afterwards.

The Crosstail River is the only main source of water in the entire forest. It was there, twelve years ago, that my stepfather built a house for my mother and I. I was only three years of age at the time, yet I remember it clearly. Not long after, my mother was with child. I was elated because I would have a playmate, yet I was sad, because the child would know who its father was. To this day, I still do not know who my sire is. I have asked my mother countless times, but she always changes the subject. "Shaaka," she says, "You are wasting my time. Go help your brother with the water so I can start supper."

I do not think that she will ever tell me who my father is, no matter how many times I ask her. Yet I have noticed, over the years, that a spark of fear ignites in her eyes every time I bring up the topic. The only reason that I can currently think of is that my father was a bad man, and she did not love him. But that does not make sense, I tell myself. Why would she go with him if she knew that he was bad?

I sit now in front of the hearth, staring into the red-gold flames of the fire. My twelve-year-old brother, Sean, watches my stepfather gut a fish. "Tora," I say - he will not permit me to call him "Father", nor do I want to - "Should you truly be doing that at the table?"

"Hush, girl," he snaps. Hurt blossoms in my chest, but I push it away. "And put your legs down. You're a woman, not a man." I glare at him when he turns away from me, but I obey. I do not like wearing dresses, although he has forced me to as of late. I much prefer wearing a tunic and leggings, like he does. When I protest, he slaps my face, so I do not ob
ject. He never does this around my mother, however. I believe that he truly does love her. He does not love me because I am not his daughter.

My mother comes into the room. I look like her - long, blue-black hair and pale skin -, but she had brown eyes, whilst mine are a dark indigo color. "They are an unnatural color," I have heard Tora telling her. "She must be under a curse." Mother always scolds him, for she knows I have not been cursed, and that I cannot change the color of my eyes. Now, she ignores Tora and smiles at me. "Your sixteenth birthday is tomorrow, Shaaka," she says. "I will make your favorite supper." My favorite supper is lamb stew, cooked so hot that it would scald the tongue of a normal person. But I had long ago sensed that I was different. I smile at her.

"You do not have to do that, Mother," I say.

She sits beside me and pats my hand. "It is your sixteenth birthday," she repeats, as if it is the explanation to everything. "And, as a special present...." She trails off and takes a deep, shuddering breath. "I shall tell you about your father," she adds in a voice that is too low to carry to the two men across the room.

My head snaps up. I examine her eyes, reading the emotions that are hidden there. I have found the usual fear, yes, but also in her eyes are sorrow, joy, and love. Sadness strikes my heart. "You are sure?" I ask quietly.

A small, sad smile spreads across her face. "I am sure. It is time that you knew about your heritage."

Happiness and excitement course through my veins. I look out the small window at the forest outside, listening to the crackling of the fire and the pounding of the river. I do not notice the eyes at first. My mind is drifting with joyful thoughts. After a while, I realize that I am not staring at undergrowth. I am staring at something else, something large. A wide pair of eyes, glittering in the moonlight, stares back at me. I leap backwards with a startled cry.

Rough hands catch me. It is Tora. His face is purple with rage, for I have knocked his fish onto the earthen floor, and now we cannot eat supper. He slaps me across the face, hard. I fall to the ground, raising a shaking hand to my face. I am bleeding. He is yelling at me, and Sean is yelling at him. I cannot understand what they are saying. Everything is a confused tangle, and I cannot pay attention any longer. My vision goes grey.

******

Excrutiating pain awakens me. I gasp involuntarily. After a while, the pain begins to ebb. I struggle to open my eyes. I am laying in my bed, the early morning sun shining in my face. I slowly raise my hand and touch my upper lip. It is slightly swollen, but there is no blood. Someone must have washed it off. I look across the room to see Sean, asleep in his bed. Dark brown hair is splayed across his forehead. He is clutching a bloodied rag in one hand; it must have been he who cleaned my face.

Slowly, so as not to make any noise, I slip out of my bed and walk over to the mirror that is leaning agains the wall. I peer into it. A young woman stares back at me. Right now, I cannot say that she is beautiful, for her face is bruised and swollen, and her eyes are glazed with horror and fear. My heart is pounding. Emotions I have rarely felt before pound in my head with it. Rage, desperation, and countless others claw their way through my veins like wild animals.

I make a strangled choking noise as my veins turn ice-cold, then fire-hot. I am gasping for breath. I turn in a sudden panic to make sure that Sean is not awake. I do not know why I am doing this, but I know only that I must. He stirs in his sleep, but makes no other movement. I sigh in relief and turn back to the mirror. My muscles freeze in shock. There are no more bruises on my face, no injuries, not even my birthmark. I gingerly touch my left temple. The dragon's egg, which had been my only source of comfort in thirteen years, was gone.

My breathing is ragged. A hot, salty tear rolls down my face. It is smoking. I bite my tongue to keep from crying out and wipe it off with the corner of my nightgown sleeve. No more tears follow the first. My sorrow dims as I examine my face closely. It is replaced with wonder. My face is as pale as ever, but now it is slightly translucent. My eyes are darker, more mysterious. My lips are redder, and slightly hot to the touch. I step back from the mirror.

I can see no other evident changes in my body, except when I turn around. The nape of my neck is dark red, but it is not covered with blood. When I touch it, it feels scaly. With a sidelong glance at Sean, I pick up the mirror and silently slip out the door. The earthen floor is slightly cold. I can feel goose-flesh creeping up my arms. My mother's soft breathing sounds from the other bedroom, mixed with Tora's snores.

White sunlight brightens the hearth-room. A bird, most likely a sparrow, chirps in the forest. I open the door; it squeaks loudly. I freeze, hoping the noise didn't wake anyone. Tora's snores brake off, but restart almost instantly. I breathe a sigh of relief and slip out the door into Lorendale Forest.

The early morning air feels good on my skin. I smile. The gr*censored* is wet with the morning dew. Birds peck at the ground, searching for worms. I make my way over to the easiest p*censored*age into the forest. It is lined with brambles and thorns where searching rabbits make their nests. I walk deeper into the heart of the forest. Sunlight is mottled on the leaves that are strewn across the ground. A twig snaps beneath my bare foot. A jay bird flies away, sounding an alarm call.

I have gone far enough. I do not think that anyone will find me here. I prop the mirror up against a tree and take my nightgown off. The trees are close together, so it is warm here. Even so, I am still cold. Again I turn my back to the mirror and look over my left shoulder. My breath catches in my throat as I realize what is on my back. My pale skin fades into blood-red scales. Even as I watch, they begin to spread farther across my back. Sharp ridges begin to grow out of the scales. I nearly p*censored* out.

Hurriedly, I pull my nightgown back over my head. I leave the mirror where it is. I will come back for it later. I race through the forest. I should be thinking many things, but only one comes to mind. My father is a dragon.

Chapter Two

I am gasping for breath, yet I will not stop. Anger surges through me, pushing me faster still, although brambles and undergrowth pull at my legs, trying to slow me. The stone house built by Tora looms before me. I can hear the voices of Sean and the others inside. The smell of my mother's cooking wafts out to me. I stagger to the door and throw it open. The three look up, startled. Before anyone can speak, I do. I face Mother. "Why did you not tell me?" I demand.

Anguish is etched into every detail on her face. Her eyes close, and she sighs. Saying nothing, she stands and makes her way over to me. Her fingers catch on the back of my nightgown and she pulls it down. I am facing Tora and Sean, so they cannot see the crimson scales that threaten to overwhelm me with their itching. I feel a salty tear drop onto the bare skin of my back. Mother gently fingers one of the sharp spines growing out of the scales.

"I was hoping that this would not happen," she says quietly. "I know now that it was a futile hope."

“What are you talking about, woman?” Tora growls. He stands and stalks up to us, controlled anger showing in every movement. Mother releases the back of my nightgown. I hurriedly back up against a stone wall. The tearing of cloth sounds in the sudden silence. I wince as the ridges on my back stick in the wall. I cannot move, even though I strain to be freed from it.

Tora grabs my shoulder and yanks hard to move me away from the wall. He does not see that I am stuck. Searing pain travels up my spine, and I scream, but he has accomplished his task. I am freed of the wall. I taste dirt on my tongue as I fall.

My vision blurs. I weakly hope that I do not lose consciousness. Thankfully, I do not. Weak, pitiful gasps sound in my ears; they are mine. After a while, my breathing starts to slow. Everything is silent, even the forest outside. Tensing my muscles to ready myself against any blows from Tora, I roll over onto my back, overly-conscious of my spines sticking in the dirt. At once I see that there is no need. Tora is backing away from me. I cannot read his face. He is nearing the door. No, not towards his door, I realize. Towards his sword. Adrenaline pulses through my body. I scramble to my feet.

My reflexes seem faster than they once were. Perhaps I have grown faster because of my Awakening. I am on my feet, hands raised to fight, faster than I can keep up with. But… I feel dizzy – weak. It is hard to take a breath. I feel myself growing ever-weaker with each p*censored*ing second. Tora has the sword out of the sheath now, and I realize that I am going to die.

Mother’s screams sound in my ears. I push her to one side, faster than any full-human could have done. Wild fury gleams in my step-father’s eyes as he swings the sword. I dodge, but not fast enough. The blade slices from my left cheekbone to under my left earlobe. I know that I will carry the scar for the rest of my life.

The stench of burning flesh fills the air as my - literally - boiling blood streams down my face, yet I barely notice the pain.

I cannot really explain what happened next. My feelings of rage and desperation reach new heights. I decide that, if I must die, I will die trying to kill him.

That was when it happened. Twin points of pressure flame in my back, as if whatever lies there longs to be free of the flesh and muscle that encases it. I am so dizzy, and the pain is almost unbearable. I barely register the fact that I have fallen to the ground for the third time that day.

Tora's amber eyes gleam with satisfactions under his red-gold hair. Dimly I register that, at this moment, he truly looks like his namesake, the tiger. The sword raises as Tora prepares to decapitate me. Mother is still screaming, and Sean reaches for his dagger; he will not be fast enough.

I HAVE TO GO. I'LL UPLOAD MORE WHEN I CAN GET ON AGAIN.