I want harsh criticism. This is the current version of the opening page.
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A pale skinned Elf with a bright face scattered with freckles gracefully sped through the tranquility of a sacred forest that did not erupt like the corrupted woods of the West. The creatures of the forest watched on as a beautiful being with long, tangled blond hair zipped through the underbrush causing a clamor that sounded like a mother hushing a wakeful child: “Shhhhh…”
Her sharp eyes scanned out the area she approached, yet she was forced to close them due to low branches scratching at her fair face. The young Elven girl gritted her teeth as she ran. Blood dripped from open wounds on her face and bare legs and arms. Her dress was torn, yet she held it together as she ran. She knew she could not stumble or fall. Each new smell and taste had a tint of blood and sweat that made her belly turn with disgust. Flowers smelt like a mixture of stomach acid and iron. Quiet creeks seemed to reek of bitter metallic dew. Her vision became blurry as tears fell; she’d close them once more as twigs and branches stood waiting to permanently blind her with a fatal jab.
Then a root that was deracinated tripped the hurried wander. She fell with a violent plop that cracked and snapped as she rolled deeper into the Eastern forest. Large gashes were made by underbrush and stabbing thorns. Aubrey, the fair elf of the Central wood, stood up and continued her escape with a trod. Her breath was gone, and she leaned on trunk of a tree to catch her breath. An old hooted: this was a warning.
“I can’t stop now,” she thought. “They’ll get me if I rest.”
The soles of her feet were broken blisters that bled bodily fluids upon the dirt, which went into the open sores causing immense pain and sudden shock. Aubrey did not realize that she was wounded so critically until now. She wept acrimoniously and stood at a halt. Despite her urge to move on, the pain was unbearable. The only logical choice was death now. Her body was broken and bruised; there was a low chance of survival even if she managed to elude the approaching soldiers. No Elf had ever traveled through the Eastern woodlands anyways.
She curled up into a ball and sobbed. This time she was not concerned of her own fate. The pictures of what she once had were appearing in her mind. She was again united with her friend Clabael who gently kissed her on a cold autumn night. Then she saw her family preparing for the winter’s festival. Another memory from her deepest past recollected her entire dream as a young lady: Clabael and she were playing house. Aubrey was the mother and Clabael was the strong hunting father. Clabael once said in his masculine Elf voice: “I love you, my wife; I shall protect you from the beast!”
Despite this one and only occurrence as a child, Clabael confessed some type of emotion and feelings for Aubrey. This moved the young Elf’s heart to more tears. Then a voice called out to her. It was her father’s: “Aubrey,” he said in a kind voice, “find me some wood.”
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A pale skinned Elf with a bright face scattered with freckles gracefully sped through the tranquility of a sacred forest that did not erupt like the corrupted woods of the West. The creatures of the forest watched on as a beautiful being with long, tangled blond hair zipped through the underbrush causing a clamor that sounded like a mother hushing a wakeful child: “Shhhhh…”
Her sharp eyes scanned out the area she approached, yet she was forced to close them due to low branches scratching at her fair face. The young Elven girl gritted her teeth as she ran. Blood dripped from open wounds on her face and bare legs and arms. Her dress was torn, yet she held it together as she ran. She knew she could not stumble or fall. Each new smell and taste had a tint of blood and sweat that made her belly turn with disgust. Flowers smelt like a mixture of stomach acid and iron. Quiet creeks seemed to reek of bitter metallic dew. Her vision became blurry as tears fell; she’d close them once more as twigs and branches stood waiting to permanently blind her with a fatal jab.
Then a root that was deracinated tripped the hurried wander. She fell with a violent plop that cracked and snapped as she rolled deeper into the Eastern forest. Large gashes were made by underbrush and stabbing thorns. Aubrey, the fair elf of the Central wood, stood up and continued her escape with a trod. Her breath was gone, and she leaned on trunk of a tree to catch her breath. An old hooted: this was a warning.
“I can’t stop now,” she thought. “They’ll get me if I rest.”
The soles of her feet were broken blisters that bled bodily fluids upon the dirt, which went into the open sores causing immense pain and sudden shock. Aubrey did not realize that she was wounded so critically until now. She wept acrimoniously and stood at a halt. Despite her urge to move on, the pain was unbearable. The only logical choice was death now. Her body was broken and bruised; there was a low chance of survival even if she managed to elude the approaching soldiers. No Elf had ever traveled through the Eastern woodlands anyways.
She curled up into a ball and sobbed. This time she was not concerned of her own fate. The pictures of what she once had were appearing in her mind. She was again united with her friend Clabael who gently kissed her on a cold autumn night. Then she saw her family preparing for the winter’s festival. Another memory from her deepest past recollected her entire dream as a young lady: Clabael and she were playing house. Aubrey was the mother and Clabael was the strong hunting father. Clabael once said in his masculine Elf voice: “I love you, my wife; I shall protect you from the beast!”
Despite this one and only occurrence as a child, Clabael confessed some type of emotion and feelings for Aubrey. This moved the young Elf’s heart to more tears. Then a voice called out to her. It was her father’s: “Aubrey,” he said in a kind voice, “find me some wood.”