How well do you know Rachelle?

Rachelle sat in the dim den tracing her thumb over her large wooden bow. It was polished to a shine and the lights of the flickering fire reflected off its surface. It should have been perfect except it was missing something. Something she didn’t dare ask Blain, her caretaker to add: the crest of Aragon. Nearly ten years had passed since the frightful flight from Aragon. She had only been two at the time, but Rachelle still held very real memories from that night. She remembered the fear on the faces of her parents, even though their hands had been gentle. She remembered the cries of the dying and the injured when the carriage had overturned. She remembered Blain grabbing her from the dirt of the forest floor and running frantically on his horse through the trees, following the others who had been charged with the care of her sisters. At this her thoughts turned towards her sisters. Often at night, she would lay awake, wondering what their fates had become. She was comforted in the dark by memories of happier times with them. She often wondered if these images were real, for they seemed to be in such detail, and she had been so young when they were developed. But she found comfort in them when little else in the world offered a solace. She often remembered the time when a snake had entered the nursery garden. Rachelle had panicked and ran screaming to hide behind their nursemaid. Ebaen had always been the most grown up and mature of the sisters, and not just due to her age. Calmly, she walked in with a stick and chased it out. Rachelle could not recall a time when Ebaen had ever panicked, even when Morgan would wander off on her own and be lost for hours. Morgan was only two years older than Rachelle. She had been the most rebellious of the daughters, refusing to stand still when a painter came by to paint the family, throwing a tantrum when their mother had wanted her to wear a dress. If she were still alive, Morgan would be about sixteen now. Jacqueline was only a baby when they had been separated. She remembered very little about her besides the constant cries keeping her up at night. Sometimes Rachelle found it odd how she could remember her childhood so easily. Today was Rachelle’s twelfth birthday but the memories were still there. After the flight from Aragon, Blain had taken Rachell

the man, Blain. Salina was Blain’s personal horse. She had been Blain’s riding horse for about seventeen years now. She wasn’t anything fancy, just an old courser. But she was special to Rachelle. The reason being that it was Salina who had been the horse on which both she and Blain had escaped the Hallins on. The horse was only four then, and a lot had changed. Her once vibrant sorrel pelt was now flecked with gray and her once spirited trot was now forced and slow, but in Blain’s eyes she was forever beautiful. Though the Livery was full of over one-hundred horses, they only owned seven of their own. Sanchez was the lively bay gelding that pulled their cart when they needed to travel. He had such a good disposition that it was hard not to fall in love with him. Then there were the five horses which they rented out to the people of Lathium: Bella, Jay, Robin, Flyte, Shade, and Magnum. Many people in Lathium did not own their own horses so these horses were rented out to them. Rachelle rushed down the dusty barn aisles. For newcomers, it was easy to get lost in the large stables and winding walkways but Rachelle could walk through it in her sleep. As she passed, the horses looked up from their hay; a few nickered. Normally Rachelle would stop by each stall and pat each individual horse on the nose but now was not the time, she had to get to the foaling mare.