The Foretelling

Alice Hoffman's "The Foretelling" is a captivating young adult novel set in a mythical ancient world ruled by Amazon women warriors. It follows Rain, a young woman born into a fierce culture where strength and battle prowess are paramount. As she comes of age and prepares for leadership, Rain experiences a profound internal conflict when she feels mercy towards an enemy, challenging everything she has been taught. This lyrical story delves into themes of identity, empathy, fate, and the complex bonds of sisterhood and family, making it suitable for readers aged 12-18. Parents will appreciate its exploration of moral dilemmas and the empowering portrayal of female strength.

<h1><font size=+3>The Foretelling</font></h1><hr noshade size=1><font size=+1><b>By Alice Hoffman</b></font> <h4><b>Little Brown For Young Readers</b></h4><font size=-1><b>ISBN: 0-316-01018-9</b></font> <br><hr noshade size='1'><br><h3>Chapter One</h3><b><i>In the time of</i></b> <p>I was born out of sorrow, so my mother named me Rain.</p><p>Ours was a time of blood, when the sky reached on forever, when one horse became a hundred and then a thousand, when we wore our hair in long black braids and rode as warriors. Everything we had was given to us by the goddes, and everything we lost was taken away by her.</p><p>We lived in the time of fortune, in a world of only women. We were warriors from the very beginning, before we were born. There was no battle we could not win. We were strong, the strength of a thousand sisters. And we had something no one else had. Something that caused terror in our enimies when we came across the steppes. Something no one in the man's world had yet managed to do.</p><p>We rode horses.</p><p>It was said my great-grandmother the Queen had found a white mare in the snow and that she lay down beside this wild creature to warm herself and keep herself alive. My great-grandmother whispered certain words in the mare's ear that no man would think of saying. Ours was a country of snow for half the year, of ice and wind and the steppes that led to the Black Sea. By the time the ice had melted, my great-grandmother had made the first bridle out of a leather belt and the snow mare let herself be ridden. A horse and a Queen had become sisters; when they raced across the steppes they were two hearts pounding with a single thought inmind.</p><p>Horses were everything to us. Our goddes, our sisters, our sustenance. Alive, they were our way to win battles; four legs against men's two. Even when our horses' lives were gone they were our tents, our clothes, our boots, our food, our traveling companions to the next world. Our children were raised on mare's milk. It made us wild and quick and unafraid. It gave us the ability to speak the language of horses.</p><p>A language men had yet to learn.</p><p><i>(Continues...)</i></p><p></p><blockquote><hr noshade size='1'> <font size='-2'>Excerpted from <b>The Foretelling</b> by <b>Alice Hoffman</b> Excerpted by permission.<br> All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.<br>Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.</font> <hr noshade size='1'></blockquote>