From the personal journals of Miriam duCharleroi:

The following piece was taken, part and parcel, from the journals of my late mother. Where applicable, I have made polite editorial corrections that I believe in my heart of hearts enhance the piece, including spelling, slight grammatical, and an occassional factual patch. My mother may have been a great adventuress, but she was a lousy writer.

I barely had the chance to know her as my mother during my time with the Swanmays of the White Wing. Kynna and I always referred to one another as 'sister' because of our chosen lifepath. It was confusing when she first told me of our bond; here was a woman I had called sister and with whom I had become extremely close, yet I had no inkling of how close we should have been. Perhaps that sort of sharing is why I mourned so much at her passing; few children ever get to know their parents as friends beyond their ties of blood.

This, then, is her story, in her own words. It is the story of a woman who let go of her past to forge a bright future for future generations, one who lived with nature instead of against it. My friend. My mother.

When I was much younger, it wasn't cool to be different. What I mean is that the boys did their things-- hiking, hunting, and other properly 'boyish' things; and we girls, we stayed home and learned about cooking, sewing, and all of those properly 'girlish' things.

Me, I was always a bit different. Thank the gods for that.figured that I should write down some of my story for posterity because hey, who knows when you're going to die. What I've written here is as accurate an account as I can piece together because, for reasons beyond my control, I could remember nothing. Nothing, that is, until recently.

You see, amnesia is a very scary illness-- not knowing who, what, where, when, why, or how you are is enough to drive somebody insane. Which, come to think of it, is what almost happened-- except for the care of two women who found me and kept me from going over the brink. For the last ten years of my life, they have shown me what it truly means to experience life.

My name is Kynna.

My story begins in Naridale.

I was the tomboy of the village. No "proper" girl would go near me-- even some of the boys (although they would never admit it) were downright scared of me. But I wasn't always like that; as a matter of fact, I was, for quite a while, shaping up to be another "normal" young girl.

My father, Garth, was a ranger by both profession and by deed. He loved the forest and all that lay within its lush green hallways, and it was that same love which he so taught to me, taking me on numerous camping trips into the woods and away from the bustle that was the village. Each trip he taught me something new, from learning how to build a proper campfire, to how to care for a wounded tree, to how to create a temporary shelter for the night.

In my tenth year, I went with my father on one of his patrols of the forest surrounding Naridale. After a long day of wandering, mending, and "talking" with the animals, we-- well, I, at least-- felt quite exhausted, so we created a temporary camp for the night. As the fire died down around them and sleep came upon them, I asked my father a question. "Dad, what happened to Mom?"

"She... she disappeared when you were but one, honey. Nobody knows what happened to her-- she just went into the forest and disappeared." Dad turned over in his bedroll. "You already knew that, though. Is there a reason that you should ask that question now?"

I shifted in my bedroll, trying to make myself comfortable. "No reason at all, Dad. I just miss her tonight. That's all. Good night, Dad."

"G'night, darling," my dad said, falling fast asleep.

The night was a quiet one, the moon full but visible only when the clouds allowed it to be seen. Small nocturnal animals could be heard going about their nightly lifestyle. I myself am a light sleeper by nature, so I drifted in and out of my slumber throughout the night, both fascinated by the creatures of the forest who came out only now and annoyed that these same animals would keep me awake all night. I slipped out of my bedroll and stood up to stretch my legs. Just as I sat down again, a slight breeze kicked up around the campsite.

"Kynna..."

I jumped out of my bedroll and froze. "It was the wind... it was just the wind, girl. It was just the wind blowing through the trees. It was just the wind calling your name. You're tired; you're just imagining that the wind called your name."

"Over here, Kynna..."

I turned around to where I thought I heard the voice. "Wh--who's there?"

"Kynna... it's your mother."

My eyes widened and my jaw dropped. "M--mother...? Where are you?"

"I'm right here, Kynna..." The 'voice' was still barely louder than a whisper. "Come to me, Kynna..."

I began walking over to the edge of the clearing. "Oh, Mother! Why... why did you leave me?" "That doesn't matter, Kynna... I'm here now, Kynna..." The 'voice' said without emotion.

"Kynna! Stop!" my father shouted, awakened by the commotion. "Don't go to it! It's a trap!" "Wh--what?" I said, shaking her head as though just waking up. "What happened?"

"Get down!"

I dropped to the ground as my father let loose with a volley of arrows. An inhuman scream erupted from just beyond the trees as the creature, whatever it was, fled. The rest of the night passed uneventfully, and in the morning the two of us packed up and went home.

The years went by, and the memories of that night haunted my dreams often. About a decade after that fateful night, she experienced her worst recurrence of that nightmare-- the night my father was finally consumed by disease. I laid him to rest in that same clearing in the woods the next day.

Finally, about five years after that day, in my twentieth summer, I left my home in Naridale for the last time. I finally decided to spend my days in the forest, trying to conquer the fears inside her-- and to honor the memory of my father.

My first night in the woods was, as I look back on it, a poor choice of nights to start out-- it was another night of the full moon. I could hear the sound of wolves in the distance. "Great," I muttered to nobody in particular, "One night out and I get the privilege of getting eaten by wolves." Human voices mixed with those of the wolves. "Werewolves?" I began to get more than a little scared, but I decided that I wasn't going to let the forest master me again. The noise soon passed by, and I drifted off to sleep. The next morning changed my life forever.

That morning appeared without warning. Golden rays of sunlight found their way directly to my eyes, promptly shaking me from my dreams of what the future would be like. Would I be a legend? How famous would I be? Morbidly I also wondered if I would just die today instead. I pondered those and many other questions over my simple breakfast of eggs, bacon, and the bottle of milk I had bought in town before I left. I then broke my temporary camp and headed off in no particular direction in search of adventure. Just before I left, though, I heard a voice coming from somewhere nearby. "Damn bird," the obviously male voice said. Apparently, then, he decided to switch tactics. "C'mere, birdie," he said in an ugly falsetto." Then his voice became harsh. "I want some breakfast and I want it now!"

I followed the voice and quickly found the man to whom it belonged. He was a bum, really, trying to make a morning meal out of a swan he had found. He looked as if he had been chasing it for some time-- the exhaustion was clearly taking its toll. As a forest guardian-- a ranger-- I knew that it was my duty to protect this poor, helpless creature. The swan, I mean. "Sir," I stated, walking into the clearing, "if you would kindly stop chasing that bird, I would gladly offer you a generous portion of my rations."

"And just who are you?" he asked in an angry tone.

"I am called Kynna, the, uh... the protector of these woods!" I tried my best to sound like I knew what I was doing. "I command you to stop your pursuit of that defenseless swan!" I guess I looked pretty funny, really-- a twenty year old girl, on her own for really one of the first times in her life, trying to persuade a man twice her age (and more than twice my size) to let a bird go.

"Bah, yer jest a girl," he chuckled. "One that's way too smart fer her own good!" He whipped his dagger out of its sheath and threw it straight at me. I tried my best to dive out of its way, but I wasn't nearly fast enough-- the blade buried itself in my chest straight up to its hilt. My brain was instantly flooded with thoughts of my life. As I went down, I remember two things: first, I remember the man getting killed by a dagger, but not one of my own. Second, I remember hitting my head on the ground, painfully hard. Then my world went black. The next thing I knew, I woke up in a bright room. I tried opening my eyes but shut them immediately for fear I'd go blind. I slowly stared blankly up, wondering if I was still even alive. "Hello?" I asked feebly. "Is anybody there? Am I even alive?"

"Yes, you are," a voice answered. I jumped in the makeshift bed, but the pain in my chest kept me from running. "You are in the home of the White Wing swanmays. I am Sariva, and this is my sister in spirit Mara. You saved her life three days ago."

"But I did no such thing! I was still at home just yesterday!" I protested. The pain had diminished a little bit, but I was rapidly reminded that it was still there.

"Not true. You've been lying in that bed unconscious for the last two days. We truly didn't know if you were going to live," the one named Mara answered.

"Two days?" Suddenly I felt very uncomfortable. I may sleep late in the day, but not for two whole days. For some reason, I realized that I didn't even remember my own name. Funny, I thought at the time. "This is going to sound rather silly," I said, "but do you know who I am? I can't seem to remember my name."

"You do not know yourself?" Sariva asked, her face contorted into a mask of surprise.

"Not really, no."

"The gear you carried listed your name as Kynna," explained Mara, holding up my backpack, "but that is all we know about you." Sariva paled when she heard my name; I'll tell you why in a few moments. But once again, I digress. The next day arrived and I awoke to the smell of breakfast. There was more activity around the house than the previous day; I must have counted at least six new faces since I was last awake. As soon as they heard me stir, Sariva and Mara entered the room. "Good morning, Kynna! Would you do us the honor of sharing in our morning meal?" Sariva asked. I honestly didn't know if I even could, remembering the pain I had last time I tried. But try I did, and much to my absolute surprise, I felt virtually no pain!

"How did you... I mean... no more pain," I stammered in amazement.

Mara stepped forward to draw me back into reality. "It's a special blend of healing herbs, one that you'll learn to make in time." She smiled at me. "Now come and join us-- everybody has been wanting to thank you for saving my life the other--"

"I didn't save your life, Mara. I saved a swan. That much I seem to remember." At the time, I also thought that was rather strange-- I actually remembered much of my recent past. Perhaps there was hope for me after all.

"No, Kynna. You saved me. Watch carefully, for you will soon be inducted into the Order and will be able to do this as well." Mara shimmered for a moment, then grew blurry as she shrank down into the form of one of the most beautiful-- and familiar-- swans I had ever seen! She was remarkable! The morning sun refracted off her silver--white feathers like a million carefully aimed mirrors, creating an awesome spectacle of light with the beauty of nature. Moments later, she willed herself to return to her human form. After a lengthy breakfast and introductions to the other dozen or so members of the Order, I spent the rest of the day learning of the history of the Swanmays, this sorority of female rangers into which I would soon be inducted. I learned of the various sects of the Swanmays and particularly of this group, the White Wing, and of their colorful history. I soon felt proud and honored that I had been chosen to join the Order of the White Wing. The next day after breakfast, Sariva led me into a large room that appeared to be some sort of dual purpose meeting hall and miniature shine to the Gods of Light. She was dressed in a grand gown made of ivory white feathers; I assumed immediately that it was some sort of ceremonial garb. "Come close, sister," she beckoned, "and look at this."

She held up a small silver pin in the shape of a swan feather. It looked more like a feather coated in silver; the detail was incredible down to each individual strand of the feather, and the purity of the precious metal shone clearly. This pin was exquisite!

"This silver feather token is the symbol of the White Wing order of the Swanmays. By saving young Mara's life from the vagabond hunter, you have more than earned the right to wear such a pin." Sariva pinned the feather to my vest. It seemed almost weightless hanging there, but somehow I could feel that the pin was heavy with magic. "I am proud, my sisters, and shall wear this mantle with honor." I curtsied as I accepted the pin.

"Do you remember yesterday when I showed you the transformation?" Mara asked, a smile playing across her lips.

"It is something I won't soon forget. Why?" "The pin which you now wear confers that ability to you-- and that is but one of the things the pin can do. Try it, sister Kynna-- concentrate on becoming a swan."

I didn't know how to at first, really. It was like being told to suddenly become something you're not. I just thought about swans for a moment, and their gracefulness in flight, how they glide across the water, how they crane their necks to... I felt suddenly tingly all over. The room began to spin and grow; I desperately flailed about looking for something to grab onto to steady myself. When I reached out, though, I looked and saw that my arm was no longer an arm, but a silvery--white wing! It was a strange sensation, one that would take getting used to.

There was only one thing on my mind now-- how to change back. As if she was reading my mind, Mara looked down at me. "The reverse holds true for your reformation-- think of your human visage and it will return." I did, and once again I was human.

"With that, we all welcome you to the Order of the White Wing." Everyone in the room smiled and their was a burst of polite applause. For the first time since The incident in the woods, I felt like I truly belonged somewhere.

That was about a decade ago. My story now jumps ahead to about six months ago when four of us- myself, Sariva, and Mara, in addition to our newest member Valeria-- were struggling with the difficult case of the wizard Baranosh, a deranged madman who was using the creatures of the forest for his insane experiments. We had planned out a way to halt his operations, but it called for one of us to transform and get 'caught'. Sariva decided that she would be the one to do it, and that we should wait for her signal before proceeding with the next part of the plan.

Hours passed, and still no word from Sariva. I became increasingly worried. As night fell, I suggested that we proceed with the next phase of the plan. "Sariva said we wait," Mara scolded, "so we wait." I volunteered for the first watch-- and as soon as my sisters were safely asleep, I snuck away to Baranosh's laboratory.

When I got inside, I was assaulted by the smell of rotting flesh. I tried to plug my nose, but the need to draw air was far greater than the need to block the pungent odor out. I walked on cautiously, hoping to avoid any safeguards that the mad wizard had set to protect his domain. At the end of the hall lie a partially open door-- the door that I somehow knew I was looking for. I slowly opened the door enough to let me in, and returned it to its original position.

The room was filled with animals. There were cages lined all around the abnormally large room-- some large, some small, but nearly all of them were occupied. From rabbits to raccoons, even bears and birds, all of the animals were just innocent victims of the experiments. But there was one cage, a giant cage at the end of the room, that held my attention. I couldn't see inside of it, but I was drawn to it like no other cell in the room. I slowly crept up to the cage and looked inside.

What I saw made me throw up.

The occupant was Sariva, taken apart and sewn back together like some hideous monster. Large reptilian eyes had been implanted into her eye sockets. The beak and wings of some other bird had been grafted to her mouth and back, a mockery of what she once was. Her arms had been cut off, too, replaced by groups of whip--like tentacles, and her legs had been replaced from the waist down by the tail of an enormous snake. I looked at what was left of my sister and began to cry.

From somewhere behind me, Baranosh had silently entered the room. He was dressed in a patchwork robe comprised of both animal fur and human flesh. "Welcome to my humble abode, Kynna of Naridale," he said with a sadistic smile on his face. "I trust you like your new home."

I turned around with angry, vengeful tears in my eyes. "You..." I said, unable to even begin to form the words. I quickly drew my crossbow and prepared to fire. Just as I was about to fire the quarrel, Baranosh froze me with a spell.

"I'm afraid not, my dear. You see," he said, wandering almost nonchalantly, "you're next. Skreesha, here--" he pointed to the twisted form of Sariva-- "is but the first in a line of subservient creatures loyal only to me. As a matter of fact, I think she needs a little exercise right now.

"Oh, Skreesha?" he pointed to the cage, and the monstrous form of Sariva awoke! By all that's unholy, she was still alive! "Please be a dear and play with your new friend while I attend to more... pressing matters." He cackled insanely as he walked off, leaving me to consider my fate.

Skreesha kicked open the cage and hissed at me, her long whip--like arms jolting me out of my frozen state. I jumped out of the way of her second strike and fired my first bolt at her. It didn't even faze her.

I reloaded quickly and fired again with the same result. Would nothing stop that monstrosity? Just then, Sariva sprayed some sort of venom at me and hissed while I screamed-- I was blind! The venom burned my eyes as I staggered into a table and fell to the ground. As I tried to feel my way to my feet, I could feel the imposing presence of the monster standing over me. I turned around, expecting a killing blow from those arms or from something else, some other hideous appendage Baranosh had grafted onto my sister and mentor.

It never came.

"Kynna," she struggled to say. I stood up, my vision slowly returning.

"Sariva?" I asked hoping that the last shreds of her humanity and sanity were shining through. "Quiet, sssissster," she said, forcing the now alien words out of her malformed mouth. "I have sssomething to tell you."

I stood still, tears forming and driving away the rest of the venom. "Yes, sister?"

"Not sssissster," she said weakly. "Mother." I suddenly felt dizzy. I couldn't hold back the tears any longer. It didn't help my vision, though, for instead of the venom, the tears now clouded my sight. "Sariva-- you... are my mother?"

"I was...," she said in more of a hiss, the monster asserting itself once again. "I wasssn't... sssure that you were... my daughter... until about... a year ago." She hissed again. "Ssspeaking... ssso hard..." "Then rest... mother. Save your strength-- I've got to get you out of here."

"Kynna, pleassse... show me mercy. Pleassse, daughter... kill me."

"No!" I screamed, horrified by her request. "There's still hope! I mean, we can always take you to Shasta of Marnet, or--"

"It'sss too late for that, my daughter," Sariva hissed. "Kill me, before I am forced to kill you. You have ssso much left to live for ssstill..." she said, her voice fading rapidly. "Pleassse, daughter."

Then, in another scene that will forever be etched into my mind, in another scene I will forever try to forget, I made the hard choice. I slit my mother's throat, and she died. "Noooooo!" Baranosh screamed, running into the room. "You... you killed her! You, wench, shall pay for that with your life!" He pointed at me and shot me with a volley of magical missiles, lifting me up into the air and across the room.

"You thought that you, a simple fighter untrained in the Art could defeat me? I think not. Die!" He held his hand out at me once again, and I prepared myself to join my mother in the afterlife.

Once again, the deathblow did not arrive.

Baranosh lay face down on the floor, choking on his own blood. A pair of arrows stuck out of his back, shot directly through him and through his black heart. "Mara! Oh, gods, Mara!" I cried, looking at my sister.

"Stay down, Kynna; you're hurt. Are you otherwise alright?" she asked, stepping over the dead wizard and the body of my mother.

"I'm fine, Mara. A little exhausted, but fine. And now we're even," I said, cracking a little smile. "Where's Sariva?" Valeria asked, looking at the mess that was the laboratory.

I pointed at the twisted monster in the center of the room. "My mother," I began, "is dead. The creature that once was my mother is lying there." Valeria looked at me incredulously.

Mara nodded at me sadly. "She finally told you, then." I nodded back and we embraced, remembering our fallen companion in our own ways. We buried her the next day after releasing all of the animals and burning the whole building down.

That was about six months ago. Life, however, continues; we have since moved from the forest hut into my former home here in Naridale. I have been elected leader of the White Wing for this coming season, and we have since accepted three new members. We remain protectors of the woods, but now we are also striving to be much more. As I said to Sariva and Mara that day long ago, "I am proud, my sisters, and shall wear this mantle with honor."

I truly am proud to be a member of the Swanmays.