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meet gora

meet gora

Hey there!

Today I would like to introduce you to Gora, the main character in Elira, my novella.

She’s pretty awesome, and I really love her. I hope you will, too!



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My name is Gorawen Gale, though most people just call me Gora. I prefer Gora, too.

If you saw me passing by, you wouldn’t think much of me. I’m not beautiful, or striking, or elegant. More like strange, odd, and sometimes scarily clumsy. But even though I am clumsy and awkward, I’m still not as clumsy and awkward as my older brother Col was. Thank heaven for that! Col managed to break something every other day, it seemed like. I try to limit myself to once a week.

With my red hair, you might think me Krean, but you would be wrong. Both Durinth Gale, my father, and Malle Gale, my mother, were born in here, in Travaila, Dren, whoch, obviously, makes me Drenian.  My father is most wonderful the captain of the guard, and my mother is a beautiful, strong, and courageous woman who has given birth to seventeen children, though two of them died before reaching adulthood. Col was killed when he was twelve, and Janica died when she was three. Janica was born between My older sister, Gwen, and me; she would be sixteen were she still alive. I don’t remember her much, being only two myself when she died.

Col I do remember.

He was my favorite brother. Not that I didn’t love all my brothers; I did, dearly. And do still.

But Col, well, he was only four years older than me, whereas Hadrian and Merek were five and seven years older. Col was more willing to spend time with us younger children. He and I would have fun in the forest for hours, playing make believe games of dragons and knights, and fairies, and wars. Gwen and Gavin would sometimes join us, but most often it was just Col and me. I remember when he died. I remember every last detail. Even his hand, clutching a little doll that he had picked up. The doll was mine. I had left it in the street, and Col wanted to get it back for me. But as he did so, a wagon, pulled by two panicked horses, barrelled around the corner, and seconds later, he was gone.

I don’t think I have ever forgiven myself for that. Why on Edreayth did I leave the stupid doll in the middle of the road? Why did he have to go get it? Why did he have to die?


I have only three older brothers, now. Merek, Hadrian, and Gavin, in that order. I’ve mentioned each of them already, but that doesn’t matter. I loved all three, but never grew as close to any of them as I did Col. Jarrick, my best friend, was a different story.

After Gavin comes Gwen, then me, then Rosa, Brynn, Glory, Elissa, Sybby, Cedany, Alys, Issa, Maria, and Aleida.

Jarrick is the son of Maerwyn, the healer. I’ve lived with them for six years, ever since I was apprenticed to Maerwyn when I was nine.

I love learning that art, the art of healing. I have ever since I was little. Perhaps that is why my favorite book is A History of Herbs.

Soon, in a few months, I will complete my training and become a full-fledged healer. I cannot wait, though it will be bittersweet. I will most likely have to leave Maerwyn’s home, and establish my own. If I was married, it would be different. But most girls here get married when they are seventeen or eighteen. I’m only fifteen. Of course, I will be turning sixteen fairly soon. I was born on December 12, 143 NT.

Growing up, I spent most of my time at Maerwyn’s which I eventually learned to call home.I was able to spend time with my family as well. I would read with the twins Brynn and Rosa,and climb trees with the other twins Elissa and Sybby. I would help Mother and Gwen with the cleaning and cooking, and read to Cedany, sometimes carry her outside so she could enjoy the peaceful days, with the birds singing in the trees, and the brook rippling, and a breeze kissing her skin. As our family grew, I would take care of the younger children. I suppose I do get on well with all my siblings, though some days were hardly peaceful. We were not perfect, and had squabbles and spats just like any other family, but we always made it up again.

If a stranger surveyed me acting as I normally do, he might describe me as silly, flighty, and immature. Gwen tells me I am these, but more, too. In her eyes, I am loving, and brave, and bold. I like it when she tells me these things, for I can never tell myself them.

Somehow, I am not afraid of much. I used to be frightened of everything when I was younger. The dark, spiders, drowning, falling out of a tree and killing myself, being kidnapped, being hurt, dying, being alone, omens, and not being loved.

Now I’m only afraid of losing the ones I hold dear. That, undoubtedly, would be my biggest fear. What on Edreayth would I do without my family? Without Jarrick? Without my father?

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