Synopsis: Madga and Ress enjoy the welcome warmth, delicious food, and excited dancing that Wrysal's Last Harvest of the year has to offer. Madga is shockingly enjoying herself, when suddenly one of the music-makers plays a sharp note that causes Ress to be sick.

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Darkness consumed them while faint wisps of smoke rose toward the stars from doused torches. The houses were cooling, their hearths now empty. Embers in the great fire in the centre of the tribe twinkled amongst the ash.

Through the crowd, Madga could just about see the druid-priest standing near the pit. The Osaeh-oh woman recited the familiar end-of-year rites. She thanked each Wrysal god for the prosperity of the previous year, thanked the spirits and ancestors. She named each member of the tribe who had passed during the year, including the animals.

There was a moment of silence, and then she smiled and turned to retrieve tinder and flint from another woman. Excitement hummed through the crowd as she knelt to light the great fire for the new year. With each strike against the stone she called on everyone she had previously thanked for another good year to come.

Next to Madga Ress shifted and she looked up. Ress mouthed silent words to herself with her eyes on the lighting of the fire. She breathed a little too heavy once and Madga’s ears strained to hear the sound of a Suuroo name. Feeling her gaze, Ress’ eyes flickered to her and she smiled. Madga swallowed and looked around, but no one seemed to have heard. Next to them Raearrt and Argorth hadn’t heard either, focused on the ceremony and whispering prayers.

She released a long breath. She pressed her lips together in thought—she hadn’t prayed to Gwae gods in a long time. She whispered thanks to the Wrysal spirits, but hesitated before briefly thanking Mwae for protecting her, if she did at all. She paused. The priest blew on the fire and the flames licked to life. The crowd cheered but she was elsewhere. After some thought she opened her mouth to whisper again but Raearrt interrupted.

“Will you help us?” He beamed, holding a cold torch. Ress and Argorth had also finished their prayers and were waiting for her answer.

With a start she asked, “You… you want me to help?”

“We do! Do you feel that wind? It’s going to take all of us working together to bring the fire safely home.”

“Okay,” she nodded, stunned.

People crowded around the fire, coming and going with their own torches while dodging others’. Together the four of them waited for their chance to gather a piece of the new year’s fire. Once there was room Raearrt brought the torch close to the growing flames. He swirled it like one might a spoon in soup. It caught and he brought it it away, taking care to avoid burning anyone. To keep it out of the worst of the wind he lowered it as much as he could without burning himself. Ress put her back to the wind. She grasped the sides of her cloak and spread it wide to cut off the worst of the ocean gusts. Argorth made a smaller wall of himself on Raearrt’s other side.

Madga paused—she had left her cloak in her pack. The three began moving without her and at a loss she quickly looked around. She saw an adult in one group, and some children in another, all of them ensuring no one accidentally came near their torch. She rushed to do the same, walking in front with the warmth of Raearrt and Argorth’s torch at her back. She spread her arms, occasionally raising her hands but anyone who came too close saw them and moved away with laughter. She took a breath, reminding herself it was supposed to be a happy occasion.

She inhaled when someone bumped into her. They apologized and stepped away, leaving Madga to quickly check her hat. Feeling a loose strand of hair she tucked it back in. Her heart thudded but no one seemed to have noticed with their attention on the torches.

When they finally arrived at the house Madga, Ress, and Argorth stepped side, allowing Raearrt to light the way inside without fear of the wind snatching the flame away.

The circle of light warmed what it could touch of their home. They joined Raearrt at the edge of the light when he stopped in front of the ring of stones. Some of the stones had been painted or carved with ocean waves, acknowledging the god of the tribe’s namesake. Others had depictions of horses. Madga swallowed, recalling Wrysal’s horse god Ricah and his anger. Much like the priest, Raearrt welcomed the gods and ancestors. When he brought up Ricah she glanced at Ress, who gave her a soft, reassuring smile.

Two large stones had been painted with the vague shape of a woman and a man. Animals, particularly fish, surrounded them. Wrysal was unique for having a father god, and one which was equal to the mother. Madga’s eyes traced the vague shapes of Mvansah and Funrrah. She had only ever seen them on the clothes of travelling Wrysal, or in sanctuaries like the one Ress and she had stayed in.

Finished, Raearrt lowered the torch to relight hearth. The flames took and happily ate at the wood, returning warmth and life to the household. Smiling, he went around, lighting another torch before briefly stepping out to light the one standing outside. Inside, Argorth took the newly lit torch and lit another before returning it to its hold. He nodded with a grunt of satisfaction.

Raearrt placed his torch in another hold, then clapped his hands. “Perfect! Thank you!”

Ress chucked and clapped. “Thank you for having us.”

Madga nodded.

“It’s always great to see you, Ress-ess. Now, shall we go and enjoy the festivities?” His bright eyes looked at each of them.

Ress took a deep breath and sighed. With an apologetic smile, she said, “I would love to, but I’ve haven’t slept for a while. I think I’ll catch a nap before joining you.”

Hearing Ress say it, Madga was suddenly aware of how tired she was. Her limbs left heavy and her eyes drooped. She failed to stop a yawn.

Raearrt sighed but smiled. “It looked like you both could use some sleep. Fair enough. Please, make yourselves a home. Honey?”

Argorth grumbled but followed him out. The door shut behind them, muffling the voices outside.

At her cot, Madga slowly moved her pack. She removed her boots, placing them next to the cot for when she woke up. She rubbed her eyes.

“Tired too?” Ress asked. Her smile warm and caring.

Madga glanced away with a nod. Without a word she moved the wool blanket, shifting it to the side to leave her enough room to shuffle onto the cot. She adjusted the linen and wool pillow, and then curled up. She further fixed her hat to ensure it covered her hair, and after a moment of thought she grabbed the blanket to hold it against her chest.

There was a small sound and she cracked her eyes open just in time to see Ress look away with a soft smile. Madga frowned in confusion, but as she watched Ress readying herself to sleep her eyes grew heavier and heavier, until she couldn’t keep them open any longer.

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The winds had eased a little, allowing the smell of cooked fish to led them towards the chief’s house. The roof of the largest roundhouse pleasantly smoked from the re-lit fires within. The door frequently opened and shut by people with bright, smiling faces and lungs full of conversation. The pleasant sound of a flute drifted outside, but Madga slowed to a stop as Ress hesitated just ahead of her.

Madga peered up at her. Ress’ face was pinched, her brow furrowed as she stared at the door.

“Ress? Ah, Ress-ess?” Madga corrected herself.

Ress looked at her. A smile quickly erased the look of unease, and without a word she followed her friends. Worried, Madga frowned but didn’t push.

“There you two are!” Raearrt called from up on tiptoe to look over a few heads. He lowered and said, “We thought we lost you for a moment there.”

“No, you didn’t,” Ress said.

Madga glanced at her. She nodded.

“Come on then,” Raearrt said with grin. “Oh, but you might be a little warm, Ress-ess. Are you sure you don’t want to leave that at our place?”

Madga’s stomach twisted but Ress simply shook her head. “No, thank you, Rae. I’m afraid the wind has chilled me to the bone. I’ll keep it on.

“Oh dear. Well, I’m sure the heat in here will warm you right up!” He swung the door open and the four of them walked inside.

A wave of dry heat met them. Despite it Madga kept her hat. She removed her boots and set them by the door with a collection of others. As Raearrt led the way in they passed people happily chatting. Sometimes their voices suddenly grew, or a bubble of laughter burst that made her jump. A few guest cots had been claimed by bags sitting on top of them while their owners ate a warm meal, danced with strangers, or were in deep conversation with friends.

A shriek rose up and Madga spun. A group of children with huge smiles chased each other through the throng of people. She froze when one tried to use her as a shield. The children shifted to one side of her, then the other. She looked up in panic as more joined them.

Ress chuckled. A little girl shrieked loud and she winced. She held her hands out much like herding sheep. “Alright, let’s move on now,” she said in a firm and kind voice.

The child hiding behind Madga barely glanced at Ress before running away to find another place to hide, the pursuers closely behind.

Madga breathed a sigh of relief. Ress’ eyes glittered with humour.

As they continued farther in a group of people moved, revealing Argorth already sitting down at one of the tables. A few tables away the cauldron sat bubbling, fat and full of what smelled like a rich, fish stew. A generous amount of steam rose high to the ceiling. Next to the cauldron lay a long piece of thin stone like the top of an odd table. A woman in a red skirt cooked meats on its surface—mostly fish and crabs but also, shockingly, pieces of an auroch. Off to the side a woman stood in the middle of the group, her chest puffed with a cup of mead in her hand as she boasted her kill and listed the deeds she completed to give back to Mvansah and Funrrah for the bounty. Her listeners, awestruck and proud, clapped and patted her on the shoulder.

“Rae, do you think you can get her a piece of the auroch?”

Madga’s head twisted. Ress grinned up at her, catching her in the act of staring at the auroch. Raearrt beamed with pride and humour.

“I think I can do that,” he said. “Any other requests?”

Argorth grunted.

“Of course, hun. What about you, Ress-ess?”

“Stew for me, please. And bread if there’s honey I can dip it in.”

He nodded. “Anything else, Madga?”

“A little, mead too. Please. And bread.”

Just as he left the flute fell silent. There was some cheering, and then the rumble of conversations fully replaced the music. Madga’s eyes flickered to movement out of the corner of her eye. Ress had leaned on the table much like Argorth. Her shoulders slumped a little and Madga’s lips pressed together.

“Are… are you okay, Ress?” she asked.

Ress perked up and straightened her shoulders. “I am.”

Madga opened her mouth, but thought better of it.

Raearrt returned shortly with four cups held between his arms. Ress stood to help lower them to the table, and then he disappeared again. The three of them briefly left to wash their hands and returned just moments before Raearrt did. He and another man carried a small collection of stone and clay bowls, clay spoons, and wicker plates.

Madga’s mouth watered. She stone bowl was filled with leaping fish, beans, orange carrots, green leeks, and white turnip, which rose like an island in the small sea of steaming broth. On the wicker plate rested a few pieces of browned auroch meat. Animal fat had been placed on the stone slab before the meat was added, and salt boiled from sea water had been sprinkled on top.

Her gaze flickered from the bowl to the plate. She licked her lips and swallowed, before bringing the plate closer and choosing a piece of meat with a bone in the centre. She said a small prayer for the animal and the wife and husband gods before bringing it to her mouth. She nibbled around the bone, her stomach growling in anticipation. The meat quickly disappeared and she gnawed at the bone, then moved on to the second piece. Their table was full of slurping and munching sounds, of gulps of mead and stew. She sucked on her fingers to clean them temporarily, then took a sip of mead and switched to her spoon.

If the auroch meat didn’t warm her stomach, then the warm liquid certainly did as it made its way through her body. The extra heat brought a warmth to her cheeks. The vegetables turned to soft mush between her teeth and the herbs sparkled pleasantly on her tongue. She hummed with pleasure and swallowed

Ress chuckled. Madga started and glanced away in embarrassment. Ress leaned toward her with a grin. “The Last Harvest is my favourite time of year too.”

Raearrt cheered in agreement and he and Argorth raised their cups. Their dirtied moustaches rimmed the top of the cups as they drank deep. Ress winced at the loud cheer but laughed and drank along with them.

Once they finished they brought the empty bowls, spoons, cups, and plates to a large washing cauldron where several people were busy at work. As they dropped them off a man replaced a women washing the dishes and she left to grab her own meal. They passed her as they headed for a wash bowl to clean their hands and for the men to clean their moustaches.

Afterwards, Raearrt gasped. He suddenly spun and declared, “For your stay you must dance with us!”

Ress’ brows rose. Her cheeks were just as red as Madga’s from the heat around them.

Madga said, “But we’re warm-”

Raearrt laughed. “Then remove your hats!”

Madga shrunk back.

“Please,” he continued to implore Ress. “We had so much fun last time you visited.” He turned to Madga. “You should have seen her dance!”

Argorth nodded seriously. Madga looked up at her with curiosity.

Ress shook her head with a smirk. Her eyes were tired but she assented, “Alright, alright. I you had gotten better since.”

Argorth snorted and Raearrt nudged him. “You’ll see!” he told her.

Madga cautiously backed up a few steps, but Ress gestured at her. “Join us, Madga!”

She shook her head. “I-I….” Their gazes begged her. The flute sounded again. Clapping hands and seashell rattles established a beat. She knew the song and easily followed the lyrics in her head.

“Oh-okay.”

They beamed and her heart thumped a little quicker as they led her toward the music-makers. In the circle of people some were eating while they watched, others clapping. Two men and a woman had taken everyone’s attention, claiming the circle with their wild, flowing dancing. As they move it was clear they were together romantically. Madga watched with fascination; their arms linking and unlinking; hands holding; spinning; clapping and jumping like waves on the ocean itself.

The music suddenly stopped and just as how those same waves would crash into a cliff with a spectacular spray of water, the dancers instinctively froze. Their chests rose and fell as they panted for air, huge smiles on their faces as the crowd erupted in cheers.

The music struck up again and the circle collapsed as everyone began dancing. Madga unexpectedly found herself in the middle of a group. For a moment panic griped her chest but the dancers seemed to give each other room and she breathed a little easier.

She briefly lost Ress, until clapping and laughter broke above the din. She heard Raearrt cheer and she followed the sound to find Ress at the centre of a new, smaller circle. The music-makers had chosen another quick song and Madga watched in awe as Ress matched the beat, even with her layers of warm clothes. Raearrt laughed and clapped with excitement and pride. Even Argorth grinned. It was catching and Madga miraculously found herself laughing and cheering on Ress too.

Ress’ eye flashed to her. With a beam she stuck her hand out. Madga hesitated. She tentatively reached out, and the moment their hand’s touched she was pulled in with a gasp. Ress refused to let her freeze in place, guiding her with a hip bump or a hand nudge, and eventually Madga was dancing on her own. To her embarrassment a squeal of delight escaped. Only smiles greeted her and her feet kept moving.

Suddenly a bow slid across the strings of a bulge. Some visitors stopped in shock at hearing the rare instrument and left through the crowd. Madga had heard and seen them before. She continued dancing as the energetic vibration of the strings pulled her around and around.

The new music-maker touched a high note and someone gasped. She spun and her smile fell—Ress’s brows reached high, her eyes shifting wildly in her face. She squeezed them tight, and as Madga rushed over to support her she heard her pant, “No, no, no.”

“Ress? Ress, what’s wrong?”

“N-nothing. I need-” she swallowed. “I need to go outside.”

“Okay.” Ress tried to step away from her but her strength fled. Despite only knowing her for a short time, Madga had never seen her so weak and her stomach grew cold. She matched Ress’ pace and together they slowly walked through the crowd. Noticing something was wrong, people stopped and asked if they could help but Ress denied it without looking at them. Her eyes still shifted and Madga’s sweat chilled.

Argorth and Raearrt chased after them.

Raearrt gasped. “What happened? Ress-ess?”

Argorth helplessly watched with concern.

“I’m fine. Just need… I need to lay down. Outside.”

“What?”

“I don’t know,” Madga said. She was barely able to keep the whine from her voice. “I- she just stopped all of a sudden. And her eyes are moving all over.”

Raearrt glanced around, clearly fighting panic. “Right, right. We’ll take you to the healer.” With arms open, Argorth stepped in to pick Ress up.

Ress tried to shake her head and lean away but she leaned too far and Madga inhaled. She held on tight and she and Raearrt worked together to keep Ress from falling. Ress panted opened mouth. Her lips were shiny and she swallowed.

“Please, let’s go to a healer,” Madga begged.

Ress went to shake her head again but stopped. Without a word she continued through the house and to the door, Madga holding her upright, and Raearrt and Argorth nearby to offer assistance.

Ress took a breath of the cooler air. The cold pleasantly chilled Madga but sweat still ran over Ress’ forehead.

Raearrt said, “If you won’t let us take you to a healer, then can you at least make it home?”

Ress hummed yes. They paused a few times on the way, and Madga wondered if Ress would empty her stomach, but she managed and continued on.

Argorth went ahead and ensured the way to her cot was clear as they entered the house. The heat was far more bearable than in the chief’s home, but Ress still panted and her eyes still spun.

Raearrt reached for her hood. “You’re still too warm, let’s get that off-”

“No!” Madga cried.

Raearrt gasped and stepped back like he had been burned. Ress’ hood fell back, revealing her bright, blond hair. The braids and purple ribbon had held, but a few thin strands had escaped during her dance. She tried to look at him but her eyes wouldn’t stop moving.

“Rae-”

He stared at her in horror. “You… you’re Suuroo? But-but….”

Argorth silently moved next to him, putting his shoulder between them.

Madga’s stomach dropped.

“I’m still your friend,” Ress finished for him, pushing through whatever sickness she was experiencing.

Raearrt shook his head, his eyes stuck on her hair. Argorth glared. It faltered occasionally, but never left her.

Madga guided Ress toward the closest cot and eased her down on it. Ress held her stomach for a moment as Madga left to gather their things.

Ress finally looked up as best she could. “Raearrt. I would… would never hurt you. Neither of-of you. The colour… of my hair… means nothing.”

Raearrt shook his head again with uncertainty. His feet shuffled back. “You’re Suuroo. Why are you here? Are you here to befriend us? To- to tell-” He inhaled and his eyes widened. “Are you gathering information about our druids? Is that why you asked? That’s horrible-”

“No! I was telling the truth-”

“Is Ress even your name?”

She stopped and leaned over with a groan as her stomach rolled again. Spit dribbled from her mouth onto the packed dirt floor.

Madga placed Ress’ bag on the cot next to her. With hers on her back, she placed a hand on her shoulder. “Let’s go, Ress.”

Ress frowned. She looked up at the men. Her lips were thin as she fought the sickness, but her face remained resolute. “My name is Ress. I would- would never do anything against you. You are my friends.”

Raearrt’s eyes widened. Something in them flashed but it was gone. He turned away. “I think… I think you should leave.”

Ress stared in his direction like he had slapped her. She turned toward Argorth. He wore a deep frown but didn’t contradict his husband.

Madga turned from them. She carefully pulled Ress’ hood up to cover her hair again.

“Do you think you can use the spears like walking sticks?” she asked.

Ress raised a hand to wipe the shock and sweat from her face. “At least… at least let us stay until this passes. Please.”

They didn’t speak. Raearrt hugged himself.

Ress’ mouth parted and then thinned. “Yes,” she breathed, answering Madga as she took Madga’s spear. Madga helped her slip her pack on, then handed the other spear and they both slowly walked through the house.

Madga felt Ress try to glance over her shoulder, but Madga didn’t spare them a look. She instead kept an eye on the comings and goings of anyone outside. A few asked if they could help but Madga weaved her way out of it.

Eventually they came upon the spears surrounding the tribe. Neither of them looked at the heads as they passed.

Just as they neared the boulder hiding Ress’ round shield she stopped. Madga looked up from where she was under her arm. The wind had died down and she could hear her stomach roll and shift. Ress panted and swallowed. She fought again but this time she failed and a terrible mix of fish stew splattered on the ground. Madga held her until she finished. Ress spat on the mess, and after a brief thought, Madga brought her closer to the boulder.

Exhausted, Ress muttered, “I’m sorry… you have to see me… like this.”

“You’re hurt. It’s okay.”

“…hate… being weak.”

Madga didn’t know what to say. Instead she lowered her to lean back against the boulder. In the distance the new year’s flames danced in the torches, cold and unwelcoming. She set to carefully removing Ress’ pack and taking the spears from her. She put everyone together with her own bag, then kneeled and dug out the shield to add to the pile.

“Curse my… ancestors who… started this fight….”

Madga looked up. Though her eyes still shifted, Ress stared toward Wrysal. Under the sickness she appeared largely disappointed and angry.

“Curse me, even though I only… only fought Tasoragh. People… shouldn’t treat each other… like this.”

“You get used to it,” Madga said as she walked around her and huddled against the boulder. “I am.”

Shocked, Ress shifted, turning her head just enough to see her. Her eyes narrowed, fighting to focus on her. After a pause, she said, “No one should be used to it.”

Madga shrugged. She sniffed, rubbing her nose as she stared out at Wrysal and the dark ocean beyond.

After a moment she heard shuffling. Ress pulled her hood back and loosed the scarf enough to show the stain on her neck. Madga’s eyes flickered to Wrysal but no one suddenly appeared to take their heads. Ress tugged at her braids but gave up with a sigh. Another moment and she slowly, carefully, shifted to lie on her side on the ground.

“Thank you… thank you for waiting for me… Madga.”

Madga hummed.

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Feedback is welcome!

Synopsis: After cleaning up a river spring, Madga and Ress decide to travel to Wrysal for the Last Harvest of the year celebrations. Madga is nervous, not only because many years ago Wrysal was one of the tribes who blamed Gwae for the death of the sun, but also because Suuroo and Wrysal are now at odds with each other. And the colour of their hair will surely give them away as the enemy.

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With ease Madga and Ress followed a footpath away from the sanctuary. At times they walked side by side when the path allowed, and when it didn’t one or the other would lead.

Most knew to keep to the paths when stepping away from home; regular travellers had memorized and distinguished which paths they needed to get to their destination; further still were warriors and druids who were as comfortable with the paths and rivers as they were breathing.

Moonlight dappled the undergrowth. Their feet softly padded on the dirt as they walked in silence. Madga glanced over her shoulder, the first in a while. Despite the Suuroo warrior’s words Madga often kept an eye on her, and each time Ress greeted her with a smile or nod. As time went on Madga found herself turning around less and less.

She led for a ways until something on the left caught her eye. Just ahead two trees stood next to the path, the roots of one snaking underneath and threatening to trip travellers. She slowed, placing a hand on its sturdy trunk. Her gaze travelled over the dark foliage, picking out familiar signs of disturbances. Ress paused and Madga only spared her a glance before stepping into the thicker wood.

After a brief moment of stunned silence, Ress followed.

Their steps barely made a sound. Madga took care not to step on small plants, while keeping an eye out for deceptively-solid ground covered in moss. She held the length of her spear against her chest until eventually the quiet sound of trickling water met her ears.

The low laying plants opened and the surrounding trees acted like the roof of a house. Madga felt the security of the space more than she could see it. But she frowned. She carefully toed the ground ahead to find muck and pebbles that gave a little under her prodding. She looked back and forth, noticing as predicted that the plants and trees continued to open bit by bit in one direction. She took another step, her foot sinking a little into the damp ground but thankfully didn’t soak through the leather shoe. She prodded farther into the dark with her next step and was greeted with a small splash of water. The leaves above shifted, and sure enough moonlight glittered across the stream.

Behind her Ress leaned forward, silently watching as she turned upstream and followed it. She in turn followed her.

Bit by bit the stream lessened, though it had already begun to make a new groove down the middle of the former riverbed.

Eventually Madga arrived at its beginnings. There water flowed up from a spring in the ground. She put her spear aside and crouched. The water was biting cold to her fingers as she pulled away a clump of last year’s fallen leaves, old sticks, and some mushrooms that had taken root at the opening. She tossed them into the forest where they fell to the ground with a soft wet splat. She stepped aside, wiping her shaking hands on her pants and admiring the river that once again flowed strong.

She breathed on her fingers to warm them. She jumped when Ress spoke.

“You travel quite a lot, don’t you?”

“Yes.” Madga returned to breathing on her fingers and rubbing them together.

Ress nodded. She adjusted her bag. “You found the animal path and this river fairly quickly. That’s impressive.”

Madga hesitated, unsure what to say. “…thank you.”

Ress smiled reassuringly, then reached around and grabbed her water skin handing from her bag. She crouched and refilled it with the cold water. Madga suddenly remembered her own diminishing supply and rushed to do the same.

Afterwards she twisted, returning her water to its proper place. Then she retrieved her spear from where she had placed it on the ground. She straightened and returned to breathing on her hands.

Ress had stepped back. “With that done, where to next?”

Madga peeked over the tips of her fingers. She squeaked.

Ress’ lips twitched. She gently prodded, “Where were you going before the spirit attacked?”

Madga breathed out and lowered her fingers. “O-oh. I hadn’t decided that.”

Ress placed a hand on her hip. “Well, how do you feel about Wrysal?”

Madga blinked and jerked back in shock. “But- Wrysal doesn’t like Suuroo.”

Ress’ smile turned lopsided, almost shamed. “Oh, I know. Which means, you’ll have to watch out for me sooner than we thought.”

Madga’s eyes widened and she raised her hand. “I can’t! I- Wrysal doesn’t like Gwae either!”

Ress’ brow furrowed but her smiled didn’t fall. She turned and began back along the animal path. “Where did you hear that?”

Madga fidgeted with the spear before quickly following. “It’s been that way for-um, a long time.”

Ress sent a funny look over her shoulder and Madga glanced away. “True, Wrysal and Gwae argue over how well they can fish and the kinds of fish they catch, but it’s nothing we need to worry about. You’ll be fine.”

“Oh….” Madga looked up and licked her lips. “Really?”

Ress hummed pleasantly. “Come on. I’ll lead us there.”

Madga’s steps slowed in thought. Curiosity won out and she jogged to catch up.

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By the time they reached Wrysal leaves and needles had begun falling. They softly crunched under each step. During the journey Madga hadn’t spoken much, and Ress hadn’t pushed her.

The trees thinned, slowly opening to an expanse of rocks and browning grasses. Gusts of wind blew off the ocean and across the lands the Wrysal called home. Groups of trees stood defiant against the winds, their curved spines arching away from the ocean.

“There!” Ress said. She pointed toward the sea. The moon had set not long ago, leaving only stars to light the way. A dark spot blotted out a collection of them on the horizon and a warm, orange light flickered from within the darkness. “There is Wrysal.”

Another gust rushed toward them, and just as it arrived it spun into a small whirlwind. It tossed their long hair and nearly pulled Madga’s spear from where it was attached to her pack. Ress grabbed hold and adjusted the weapon. Madga thanked her but instead removed it and held on with both hands, just in case. The wind soon calmed.

Ress smiled fondly to herself. “Sometimes I wonder how I could ever forget the strength of the wind.”

She stopped, placing her pack the ground. The content’s softly thunked and clattered. Madga watched as she dug through it for her comb. Then she pulled out her purple ribbon and began the process of braiding, taping, and tying up her hair.

Madga’s followed the swish of the soft purple. It was a colour few could use in their clothes as the plant that made it grew in the plains, the lands of the Suuroo.

“What about the purple ribbon?” she asked.

Ress’ warm brown eyes were focused on nothing, looking toward their feet as she worked. They flashed up and a corner of her mouth twitched. “I think the colour of the ribbon will be the least of their worries if they see my hair.”

Madga winced at her mistake. “Oh, right.”

A thought suddenly came to her and she put her own pack and spear on the ground. The spear rolled over the ground and toward the tribe, but stopped at a small pile of rocks that marked the path. Madga pulled on her pointed wool hat, tucking her wavy black hair inside until it was completely hidden. She reached for her pack and watched as Ress continued braiding and taping her hair into a crown around her head.

Soon enough Ress finished and took out her long fur and wool cloak. She fastened it with a simple bone broach. However, still partially visible on the left side of her neck was the black stain of a spear going through a skull. Madga worried at her lip.

Ress raised a brow, but it quickly fell again. With a reassuring smile she reached into her pack and pulled out a plain woollen scarf. She wrapped around her neck, hiding the stain and aiding to secure her hood in place.

She placed her hands on her hips. “Better?”

Madga nodded, breathing a little easier.

Once Ress threw on her pack they continued. Gusts occasionally blew but nothing so wild as the whirlwind. Still a good distance before the tribe grounds Ress removed her round shield and tucked it under the edge of a boulder. She threw dead grass on top and with that they headed for Wrysal.

Madga’s spear strangely felt warm and right in her hands as they neared. Greeting them were skulls and heads on stakes shoved into the ground and spaced apart. The skulls were clean and draped in aging flowers, braided grasses, and seashells. The heads were farther away, their withering strands of hair fluttering in the wind. As in other tribes, the skulls were likely loved ones, warriors, ancestors and the like to help guard the people, while the rotting heads were enemies caught. They provided a warning to others, and stories to tell for the ones who killed them.

As they walked by Madga hugged the spear to her chest, searching for black hair among the heads. Her feet stuttered when she caught sight of dark hair, but the wind picked it up and nearby torches revealed it to be auburn. She breathed out and her heart relaxed. Then her gaze caught on a flash of pale, dying blond hair the colour of straw. She looked around and realized most of the heads had yellow hair.

Ress didn’t so much as glance as she led the way into Wrysal.

Around them fat roundhouses sat scattered along the cliff, close enough to see the ocean but far enough to avoid falling to the shore below if the edge gave way. Like most roundhouses their thatched rooftops pointed to the sky and, as though heavy, the edges drooped over the houses. The ocean wind easily weaved its way between each one, causing the standing torches to dance and sputter.

People walked between the houses, dressed somewhere between their summer and winter clothes. Linen and wool, leggings, tunics, and thickly layered shirts. Few wore shoes, most instead opting for boots and more wool. A few sheep invaded Madga’s space and she had to wait for them to pass before she could catch up with Ress.

She found her standing next to a house several buildings away from the central fire, hugging a man and smiling at each other like old friends.

Madga slowly joined them. Ress spotted her and introduced her. “Raearrt, this is my friend, Madga.”

Madga inhaled and her eyes flashed to Raearrt, but the man didn’t react to her Gwae name.

Ress continued, “Madga, this is Raearrt. We met when I saved him from drowning in the river-”

“Ah-!!” Raearrt flailed his hands and grasped her shoulder. She chuckled at his antics.

He weakly laughed. In a hushed voice he said, “Ress-ess, yell it why don’t you?”

Madga glanced at Ress. The name Ress-ess sounded more like an Osaeh-oh name than a Suuroo. But only just.

“I’m sorry, I’ll stop,” Ress fondly said with humour, gently clapping him on the shoulder. Raearrt’s thin shoulders sagged in relief.

His brown eyes fully came upon Madga. He kept his long auburn hair tied in a bun and wore a green scarf around his neck. He smiled from under a close clipped moustache. “Sooo… how did you two meet?”

Ress gave them a brief version of their first meeting, thankfully leaving out the disagreement with the EreTaam man over Madga’s being Gwae. As Ress spoke Madga glanced at the other man still sitting on the ground next to the house. He was broader in the shoulders but shorter than Raearrt. A wool hood of crisscrossing green and blue colours covered his long hair, and his long moustache drooped down from his lip to brush the small table sitting on the ground. A cushion had been placed on either side to sit on, and on top lay an unfinished game of Chief’s Table. The man stared up at her, hunched over with his elbows on the table.

She quickly looked away.

Ress finished and Raearrt sighed. “Hun, stop staring at the poor girl.”

The man huffed, returning his gaze to the shell and stone pieces. He appeared to be losing.

With a dry smile, Ress said, “Of course it’s lovely to see you too, Argorth.”

He grunted without looking away from the board. His eyes lit up and he quickly moved one of his pieces. Smiling, Raearrt leaned down and nudged one of his own. Argorth’s eyes widened and then collapsed. He leaned back, dragging his hands over his face with a groan.

Madga’s mouth twitched and covered it with her free hand. Raearrt and Ress giggled.

“So what brings you here?” Raearrt straightened in excitement. “Are you here for Last Harvest? Of course you are, you have to be!”

“We are. But I was just thinking, I’d like to have a chat with your husband before we pick our beds.”

Raearrt shook his head and grabbed her hand. “You must stay with us.”

Argorth sat hunched again, with his elbow bent and one hand firmly on his thigh. The other rested across his legs. He nodded in agreement.

Ress looked at Madga. “Are you alright with that, Madga?” Her eyes firmly caught her gaze and refused to let go. She watched her with great concern.

Madga glanced away, nodding. She inhaled with a start when Ress shifted into view to grab her attention again.

“Are you sure?” she asked quietly with meaning.

Madga look up at her in surprise. “Yes.”

Ress seemed to relax as she straightened. “Okay. Then we’ll stay.”

Raearrt glanced at them but didn’t push. “Right, this way then.”

They hadn’t any extra cots and Argorth ran to grab two from neighbours. Raearrt put aside their fishing tools, and then Argorth and Ress set the cots along the stone wall. Madga stepped carefully through the dim lighting until Raearrt nudged the fire back to full life. In the better lighting she looked down and quickly shifted to avoid knocking into a woven basket. The hearth sat in the centre among a circle of stones. The flames threw heat, making shadows dance along the walls and the ribbed, thatch roof above. Smoke streamed through it while keeping the cold in.

Madga walked around the fire to one of the beds and leaned her spear against the wall.

“Beautiful,” said a rough voice, as though the owner had swallowed a burning stick.

Her shoulders tensed and she spun.

Argorth stood next to her. He raised a hand to the spear and looked at her in question. She quickly nodded. He gently ran his fingers over the lightning-like webbing design that hugged the wooden staff. He lowered his hand and hummed in approval.

“He loves weapons,” Raearrt explained, looking at Argorth with fondness as he joined them. “Have you named it?” he asked her.

“No, I haven’t,” she said, then removed her pack to place it next to the cot.

Raearrt opened his mouth but Ress interrupted him. “It’s nameless for now.”

“Oh, I see.”

Madga silently agreed with Ress. She dug around in her bag until she found a much smaller bag. She presented them to the men.

A smile wiped away Raearrt’s confusion. He accepted the bag and opened it as he said, “Oh! You didn’t have toooo-what are these?”

Madga shrunk a little. “Marshberries….”

His face cleared. “Oh, I’ve heard of these!” He showed Argorth them as he asked, “Can we eat them like this?”

“Yes.”

Raearrt popped one of the red, dried berries into his mouth. He immediately grimaced. Argorth’s chest rumbled with silent laughter and Raearrt narrowed his eyes at him.

Raearrt hummed. “I’m not sure it’s for me.”

Argorth plucked one from the bag. He thoughtfully chewed, then grabbed another. Raearrt handed him the entire bag and he walked away with it to sit by the fire.

Ress’ smile widened. “You’re settled, now how about me… do you need help with anything around here?”

Raearrt brought a finger to his lips. “Not as of yet. But I’m sure we’ll think of something. Come, sit. You had questions for us?” He grabbed a pitcher of water and stone cups from a shelf

“For Argorth, more specifically.” Ress left her pack, spear, and boots by her cot to join them at the table by the fire. It was wider than the one outside, allowing for a few others to sit around it.

Madga removed her boots but kept her hat on despite the heat of the room. Ress had also left on her hood and scarf, but rolled up her sleeves. As she spoke Madga joined them at the table, curious about the topic of conversation.

Ress’ smile gave way to a more serious expression. “Have you heard anything about druids lately?”

Argorth’s moustache shifted as he ate. He shook his head.

“What would he have heard?” Raearrt asked with a frown.

Madga sipped at her cup of water, suddenly remembering what Ress had told her.

Ress glanced back at the closed door. “I’m not sure. A while ago I came across three druids.”

Argorth grunted and took a drink of water.

“They were dead.”

He choked on the water and Madga and Raearrt quickly came to his rescue. They thumped on his back as Raearrt said, “Dead?!”

Ress nodded. “It was clear they’d been killed.”

“Who?” Argorth wheezed. Madga shifted back to her seat as he recovered. She exchanged a glance with Ress.

“Who would kill a druid?” Raearrt asked in horror. He remained sitting next to his husband, a hand on his back.

“This is the strange part. It seemed as though they had been trampled to death.”

Raearrt mouthed the last part in shock.

Argorth’s expression turned stormy. “Who.”

Ress shook her head. “Not long later I ran into Madga; she was running from an angered horse spirit.”

Madga tensed. “Ress,” she whispered. Ress glanced at her. She dipped her chin but didn’t speak.

Raearrt sputtered.

“Are-” Argorth coughed. He touched his throat as he cleared it and Madga noticed scaring along the trunk. “Are you suggesting… that a spirit… killed them?” he said, each word a struggle.

“It was angry,” Ress said calmly. “And the size of the hooves matched the damage I had seen. What I’m asking for is, have you heard about anything like this? Or have you heard of any druids gone missing?”

Argorth shook his head. His fingers curled around his cup. “No.” He shook his head vehemently. “In Ruia I… learned a bit of magic. Forced the spirit out… of the fire.” He glared at the tabletop. “I was young. Small. So afraid… of these older…boys.”

“What happened?” Madga asked.

Argorth’s eyes flashed to her and she shrunk in on herself.

Raearrt gently explained, “He was in training to be a druid-peacekeeper. While he was there these boys from rival tribes started fighting.”

Argorth nodded. “I needed help. Like a fool, I forced-” he coughed. “Made the spirit come out.” His gaze became like the surface of a calm, dark pool as he recalled the past. “It was angry. Hurt the boys. Hurt me.” He trailed his fingers along his neck again.

Madga watched in silent awe at his retelling. Her fingers trembled at the memory of Wrysal’s horse god Ricah’s anger, and the memory of other angered spirits she had encountered in the past.

“Was that why you stopped?” she asked. “Did they make you stop being a druid?”

Argorth made a noise, like a dry chuckle. “No. Too much to memorize,” he said, tapping the side of his head through the hood.

Ress laughed. Raearrt weakly giggled.

Ress reached across and placed a hand on Argorth’s. “Thank you for telling us your story.”

Argorth nodded. As she pulled back, he said, “Spirits… are not tools. Nor act without reason. If a spirit… killed them, then it was their own… own fault.” He cleared his throat again.

Ress nodded in understanding. “Which brings up the question: why or how did they make it angry?”

The house turned silent except for the crackling of the fire. No one could offer an answer.

Raearrt sighed. “Right,” he said softly. “Enough of that. We’ve no answers here, and until we do, let’s get something to eat.”

Ress said, “Apologies. Let me help.”

Raearrt nodded and stood along with her to begin preparing food. Madga toyed with her cup, glancing up at Argorth who was staring into nothing. He looked at her and she glanced away.

There was a deep sigh and she turned to see him rise to his feet. He walked to a wash bowl and cleaned his hands with soap and water before assisting with the food. After a long moment, Madga drained her cup and joined them.

Synopsis: Madga flees from the wrath of an angry horse god. To her shock and terror a Suuroo warrior comes to her rescue.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ────── · 。ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Madga burst through the bushes, chest heaving. She ducked too late and the low branch of a needle-tree scraped across her cheek.

She kept running.

A cry, followed by a deep thud that reverberated through the forest. The shock wave caused her to miss-step and she fell on a rotting log. Moss had covered it in a thick layer and when she fell the wood turned to mush. Tiny bugs scattered.

Panting, she scrambled to her hands and knees, and looked back.

A red glow watched her from the eyes of a large horse. Thick limbs pawed the ground, scrapping the dirt and crushing mushrooms. He glared from between the branches of two trees, flakes of bark scattered on the ground around them.

With a toss of his head the horse gave another shrill cry. He brandished his long front teeth and turned.

Madga didn’t wait to see if he was done with her; she pushed to her feet and ran.

Another thud and her heart hammered into her chest. She didn’t look back, but cried out when a sharp cracking assaulted her ears. A softer, yet still heavy thud followed as one of the larger trees fell, their branches touching and snapping others’.

The sound of thudding hooves overshadowed everything.

Madga’s voices was high and thin as she gasped in air. The ground shook under her feet and she nearly miss-stepped. Something scrapped her thigh but kept running, darting between densely growing trees and brush.

“Where-” she gasped in air, “Where-”

Her eyes shifted around, searching, searching- there! Her heart soared.

Hot breath heated her cheek and teeth snapped down just above her shoulder.

She inhaled and jumped to the side, jostling the undergrowth as she fell. The branches danced into their original position over top her and she used the cover to crawl toward a fallen tree. It had wedged itself between two others low to the ground. She scrambled underneath just as the horse’s teeth snapped on empty air.

The spirit ran around the trees, trampling smaller plants and a mouse. Madga scrambled back again. He lowered his head and tried snapping at her from the other side but she was out of reach. He screamed and she covered her ears with a whimper.

They repeated the switch a few more times, and each time the horse grew angrier. With his hind legs he kicked one of the branches of the living tree, snapping a few and causing Madga to cry out.

Suddenly he stopped. Madga didn’t move. A moment later he lowered his head and glared at her. They were wide, and although they no longer resembled a horse’s, she could still feel his gaze on her. Her heart beat loud between her ears.

A sudden scream cut through the air and Madga jumped. The spirit’s head snapped up, his ears rotating as he listened. Another scream followed, this time in a slightly different direction.

The horse glanced at Madga’s hiding place before taking off toward the sound, ears flat against his head in his everlasting anger.

Madga didn’t move, listening as she sucked in air.

“Psst.”

She jumped and spun, her eyes flickering around. Someone peeked out from behind a tree and waved for her to follow.

She glanced the way the horse had left. Nothing moved. Another pause and she turned to join them, careful to not make much noise.

A warrior stepped out from behind the tree and led the way. Her long blond hair was tied up in a braid around her head to avoid snagging on the trees. Madga’s tired knees nearly gave in at the sight.

The warrior noticed when she slowed. She quickly gestured again for Madga to follow. Too afraid to run into the horse again, and realizing where she was taking her, Madga reluctantly followed the Suuroo.

The first of the ring of trees became more recognizable. Although not like the giant trees of EreTaam, nor as big as mother-trees, they were thicker and taller than the rest of the forest. The first sat squat, while the one next to it rose high toward the sky. Both helped each other to reach, but also competed against each other for, the sunlight above the canopy.

Her heart calmed at the sight of the sanctuary. An animal path led to the space between the two trees, which were nearly as thick as a small round house.

With the safety of the sanctuary at hand her feet suddenly grew tired. They scrapped the ground and she nearly fell again. She reached out to a much smaller tree, snapping a sapling in the process.

The thundering returned.

Her breath caught in her throat as she watched as the nearby leaves trembled. The horse screamed somewhere in the forest. The sound of snapping wood further warned of his return.

Someone grabbed her by the arm. Madga whirled with a punch that ended against the flat of a palm.

Brown eyes met her. “This way!”

The Suuroo warrior tugged again but let go and ran for the sanctuary. She hardly made a sound as she dashed through the woods. Madga followed closely behind, making too much noise by contrast. The horse cried out again and the woman glanced back to check on her.

Madga caught a flash of light brown just before ducking into the ring of trees. It wasn’t a perfect ring and allowed them through, just as the water cupped between two hands will leak out.

The horse screamed. Loud thud followed as Madga reached the centre. She spun, panting and backing away from the noise.

“We’re safe. We’re safe here, Madga.”

She turned at the sound of her name. The woman had her hands raised in peace.

Madga’s brow creased. She glanced over her, feeling something familiar about her, but another thud shook the forest. With a gasp her focus returned to the threat.

The Suuroo stepped closer and Madga’s eyes darted to her.

She stopped. “I promise, you’re safe.”

“But- the spirit....”

“I know,” she said with a calm, but firm voice. “And I know he’s angry. But he can’t get in here. He should respect that this is a sanctuary, but even if he doesn’t, these trees are too thick for him to break. He will leave soon and calm down.”

The corners of her eyes burned. She shook her head. “I don’t understand why he’s so angry at me.”

The woman hesitated.

Heavy hooves stomped over the ground and Madga squeaked.

She tensed as the woman picked up her spear she had tossed on the ground earlier. She shifted into a slight crouch, carefully eyeing the dark spaces between the trees. Her head turned, keeping her left ear toward the forest as she slowly walked around.

Another thud and the woman ducked, but her hands firmly held onto the spear.

A great thunder of hooves followed, quickly fading into the dark

They listened for a long moment. A bird called from high above, and leaves rustled in a breeze.

The woman released a breath as she straightened. She shifted her spear to one hand, holding it like a walking stick. She smiled at Madga.

Madge’s knees wobbled and her legs finally gave out. The woman rushed forward but she couldn’t catch her before she hit the ground, releasing a rush of air like someone had punched it from her lungs.

The woman kneeled next to her, cooing and looking over her, but Madga asked, “He’s gone- he’s gone?”

The woman nodded. “We’re safe. You are safe.”

Madga’s gaze flickered over her and her blond hair. Her brows furrowed.

The woman removed her hands from Madga’s back and shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“...Ress?” Madga asked.

Ress’ worry melted. She smiled in relief. “Yes. It’s nice to meet you again, Madga.” The corner of her lips twitched. “I’m sorry it’s not under better circumstances.”

Madga felt a little bubble of laughter in her chest but it didn’t grow beyond that. She nodded without thinking.

She looked around, squinting into the dark. The canopy of trees allowed very little star or moonlight through.

Ress hummed, misinterpreted her narrowed eyes. “It is looking a little sad, isn’t it?” she said, referring to the sanctuary. She made a noise in her throat and rose to her feet. “Why don’t I get a fire going and we can see about cleaning it up.”

Madga’s limbs felt heavy but she nodded.

After a pause, she inhaled. “My things!”

“Sorry?” Ress said in the dark.

Her mind spun. “Uh, he was chasing me and I couldn’t- I dropped everything and ran.”

“Okay,” Ress said with confidence. “While I light the fire tell me everything you had: I’ll go look for them.”

Madga hesitated, but she began describing her bag and spear. She tried to guess the direction she had left them but struggled to recount the path she had fled.

The small fire steadily grew as Ress blew on it. A previous visitor had chopped up a fallen branch and left it for others. Ress took a few pieces of wood and added it to the the fire. Next to the wood was a Reygo metalshaped axe, also left for use in the sanctuary.

“Can you tend to the fire while I look for your things?”

Madga blinked and looked up. Ress had risen and placed her own pack, spear, and shield against one tree. She waited patiently for Madga’s answer.

“I can.”

“Good. I’ll be back shortly.”

Madga’s heart leapt. “Wait! Wh-what about the spirit?”

To her surprise, Ress smiled and winked. “I’ll be fine. I won’t make a sound, I promise.”

She left, disappearing between the doors of the sanctuary and into the dark. Madga strained to listen but couldn’t hear her footsteps or the sound of the trees brushing against her.

She sat back with a quite sigh. After a moment she swallowed, rubbed her eyes, and set to coaxing the fire.

Gradually the flames grew higher, flickering warm, and full of life. Light and shadow danced across the great expanse of the surrounding tree trunks, illuminating a chain of flowers around one, and more hanging from the low branches of another.

Flowers were growing near the trunk of one tree, lovingly tended to by visitors. Next to them, and the stones around the fire, were offerings. Some were highly decorated, but ultimately useless, weapons like daggers, or small shields.

There were a few dolls made from bone, or wood, in the shape of a woman and a man. The wife and husband had been laid close to each other. Commonly they were undecorated and no features to distinguish them. But given the location of the sanctuary between Wrysal and Kasst, Madga knew they were likely the Mother and Father gods of Wrysal: Mvansah and Funrrah.

Imagery of animals, nature, life and death, were found around the sanctuary. The homely comforts of cups, food dishes, and blankets rested on a stone slab table. What wasn’t made from wicker were adorned with flames and people, welcoming the Kasst spirit Tommoh. The much more detailed figures of an ancestor goddess stood by a few of the entrances to the sanctuary, protecting Kasst travellers in name only.

Some baubles in the shapes of animals hung from more branches. More figures rested against other trees. Several horses were among them. The strength in their legs was clear in the ones carved from wood or bone.

The tips of her fingers grew cold despite the warmth of the fire. She looked down at them to see that they were stained with pink, and suddenly remembered the berries she had been picking before the spirit appeared. She turned them over and with a small jolt saw a few little cuts on her palms, only now beginning to hurt as she calmed and had time to think. Her cheek stung; she had likely gained a cut there as well while running from the horse. Her leg was fine, protected by the leggings.

While the fire crackled peacefully she shifted to grab her water and a cloth, but stopped when she remembered they were missing. Instead she rose and grabbed another few sticks, adding them to the fire.

She glanced over the sanctuary again, until her gaze landed on a clay jar by the table.

Her eyes lit up. She glanced around but Ress hadn’t come back yet. She stepped toward the jar, leaning down to pick it up. It was a bit bigger than a cup and had a comfortable weight to it.

Lines of water flowed around its thick bottom and centre. Simple animals danced in and above the water design. She brushed her thumb over the ridges and dips, and a sharp pain stabbed her heart. She swallowed and rubbed her lips together. She sniffed and lifted the lid, which came away with the familiar, sharp sound of the clay pieces rubbing against each other.

Inside were a mix of nuts and dried fruit. She was surprised a bear, squirrel, or spirit hadn’t claimed them already. Tipping the jar, she claimed a handful for herself before awkwardly replacing the lid as the jar sat against her chest and chin. She replaced it where she had found it, and sat by the warm fire where she leaned back against the table to munch on the berries and nuts.

She jolted awake. Her head wiped around even as her eyes blinked away the post-nap haze.

Motion caught her eye—she turned to see Ress step into the sanctuary. She seemed to make more noise entering than she had leaving.

Ress greeted her with a smile and shifted her pack off her shoulder.

“This was all I could find. I hope it’s everything.”

Madga’s eyes widened as she accepted the pack. She quickly opened it and dug in, checking to ensure she hadn’t lost anything. She quietly sighed in relief.

A small breeze made the fire and light dance.

“Don’t forget this.”

Madga looked up. Ress had sat down at the table and was holding the spear she had walked in with.

Madga accepted it with care. She ran her hands along its smoothed surface. The carved branches, or lighting bolts, hadn’t been harmed in anyway, and the bone head still remained.

“Who made it?” Ress asked as she pulled out her water. “It’s beautiful. And not only that, but practical too.”

Madga laid the spear on the ground. “I don’t know. …I found it.”

Ress’ brows rose as she took a drink. “Really?” She passed the waterskin.

Madga hesitated, but accepted the water. She nodded and took a sip.

“Well, it’s a remarkable find. Does it have a name?”

“Ah… no. I haven’t…. I can’t think of a name that fits.”

Ress’ gazed lowered in thought. After a moment of hesitation, Madga shuffled on her hands and knees to retrieve the clay jar. She offered it to Ress, who paused in her thoughts and accepted it with a kind smile.

Ress’ eyes briefed upon the jar’s design but she didn’t comment on it. She chewed on a small handful of the nuts and berries, and then hummed.

“I see what you mean. No name quite seems to fit,” she said, referring to the spear. Despite her words her brown eyes sparkled. “Well, a nameless weapon is still a good weapon. Oh!” She turned, showing more of the left side of her neck where the black image of a spear and skull had been stained. “What if we called it ‘Nameless’?”

Madga glanced away. “Um….” Instead she diverted and said, “What about the spirit? Did you see it?”

“No, I didn’t. I think he’s long gone by now. Hopefully he will calm down before anyone else walks into his path.”

Madga’s breath shakily. “I don’t understand why he was so angry. I didn’t do anything wrong. …I think?”

Ress’ brow furrowed, wrinkling the freckles there. “I’m sure you’re right.” Her thoughtful gaze turned toward the tabletop. The fire spat, sending a spark that fizzled out long before it could reach the branches above.

She said carefully, “Before I found you and the spirit, I came across three bodies.” Under Madga’s questioning gaze she shook her head. “It wasn’t a battleground. They were… druids.”

Madga inhaled through her nose. “What happened?”

“I believe the spirit happened.” Her gaze drifted away, landing on some of the horse figures. “I’ve seen the damage that a hoof can do, and I’ve seen what it looks like when a person is trapped under one. Including one the size of a bison.”

Madga’s mind flashed to the giant animals, bigger than most trees, which she had seen from a safe distance. They had been beautiful, but eerie as they migrated through the snowstorms of the plains.

Ress confirmed, “These people were killed by the spirit.” Her frown deepened. “Going by their staffs, I’d say one was a druid-magician.” She shook her head again. In a hushed voice she said, “I don’t know what this means, but it can’t be good.”

Madga’s head whirled with memories. Angry spirits, usually angry because of humans, but sometimes other animals and each other, but never enough to kill a druid. In her many years she had never heard of something like this happening.

She swallowed, and she looked at the miniature horses too.

“Do you think… do you think it was… Ricah?”

Ress’ frown turned to her. “I’m sorry?”

Madga hesitated. When Ress encouraged her to speak she said, “I’ve… heard that Ricah is Wrysal’s horse god. Do you think it was him?”

A light of understanding flared in Ress’ eyes. “Maybe. If it was then that would mean that Wrysal did something to hurt their horses,” she said, and disgust briefly flickered across her face. “Or the Kasst did.”

After a moment, Ress sighed heavily and rubbed her eyes.

Madga quietly grabbed another couple of berries from the pot.

Ress tutted and turned to her pack. She pulled out a clean cloth, a bar of soap, and then held out her palm.

“I can clean that for you if you like?” she asked.

Madga wore a confused frown. She looked at her hands and grunted, suddenly remembering the faint pain. She tentatively gave one hand to Ress, who poured a little of her water over it and gently scrubbed. She did the same with the other hand, and to her surprise she repeated the action with the scratch on her cheek. Under the motion one of the deep cuts on her hands re-opened and welled with blood. Ress wiped it away again, then scrubbed the soap and more water onto her hand. Madga hissed but didn’t pull away. Ress sent her an apologetic look as she continued to clean her hands and cheek.

At the end her hands were still red and slightly bleeding. Ress rummaged around in her pack, but Madga retrieved a rolled cloth from her bag first.

Ress’ eyes lit up. She smiled in thanks and began wrapping her hands.

Not long later Madga ran her fingers over the wrapping. It wasn’t as good as a druid-healer, but just as good as the common healers of a tribe. She carefully rubbed them together and switched to fingering the other hand wrappings. Her cheek had stopped bleeding.

“That should do,” Ress said, satisfied with her work.

“…thank you.”

Ress hummed in acknowledgement.

In the following silence Madga fidgeted. She scratched at the table with her fingernail, then fixed the tie securing her hair away from her forehead.

“I think… I think I’m going to sleep for a while.”

Ress said, “After what you just went through that sounds like a good idea.”

“Are… are you going to leave?”

Ress paused. She said, “No, I’ll keep watch. And I might get some sleep too.”

Madga glanced at her as she pulled out a bone comb. She methodically untied her braid, eventually allowing the long, thick hair to fall free. She ran her comb through it, carefully smoothing out any kinks and knots.

Madga took a deep breath and released it through her nose. She pulled out her brown wool cloak and folded it into a pillow.

***

She awoke to the sound of gentle humming. The soft noise picked her up and held her close. She fought to stay asleep, to stay with that comfort, but her body had other plans. It crawled to full consciousness and soon she was aware of the crackling fire

The smell of cooked meat tickled her nose and her eyes slid open.

Meat sizzled from inside a pan, which sat atop the flames. Using a stripped and cleaned stick, Ress reached in and shifted the meat around. If she noticed Madga was awake she didn’t say anything. She sniffed the meat before using a knife to cut off a small piece. She let it cool before popping it in her mouth. As she chewed her expression turned thoughtful. A crease formed on her brow. She turned, reaching into a cloth pouch to add dried herbs to the meat.

Madga’s mouth watered and her stomach followed up with a growl.

Her gaze flashed upwards at the same time Ress looked at her.

Ress’ surprise turned into a smile. “Hello. Sleep well?”

Madga pushed herself up into a sitting position. “Yes.”

Ress’ smile warmed. “That’s good. I had a nice rest too.”

Madga glanced at her in acknowledgement while she leaned forward to curiously look into the pan.

Ress stirred the meat again. “I caught a hare; would you like some once it’s finished?”

Madga quickly nodded before she could catch herself. Ress beamed.

Not too long later they had cleaned their hands and Madga held out her wicker plate. Ress grasped the pan with her right hand and used her left to dish out half the hare meat before feeding herself.

Madga swallowed. With her fingers she cautiously tapped the meat and waited until it was cool enough before picking up a piece. She ate and nibbled around the bone, licking her lips after every bite.

Her skin prickled and she looked up, but Ress was busy with her own meal. A frown touched Madga’s lips as she watched her. She looked away, and as she ate she glanced at the spaces between the trees.

She swallowed and exchanged the bone for a loose piece. Occasionally she felt Ress’ gaze on her again, but very time she looked up the warrior appeared engrossed in her food. Madga licked her lips and rubbed them together as she rolled strands of hare meat between her thumb and fingers. Her mind raced. She slowly picked at her food, then slowed further yet.

Ress finished long before her. She stood to stow away her empty wooden plate, but to Madga’s dismay she didn’t pack up and leave. She returned instead with her comb and a soft-purple ribbon.

Madga’s food was becoming cool to the touch, further ruining her plan. She consumed the rest and cleaned her wicker plate as best she could without immediate access to a stream. She twisted, tugging her bag closer to carefully pack her plate while reminding herself to seek out a nearby river.

With that destination on her mind, she glanced at Ress. The ribbon draped over her crossed legged as she combed her hair again. With a quiet start Madga eyed another opportunity.

She quickly checked over her bag, making sure that everything was packed away and nothing would be left behind. She grabbed her wool cloak as she stood and tucked it away as well. Without looking at Ress she shouldered her bag and retrieved the spear.

“Are you going?” Ress asked, a little surprised.

“Uh, yeah. I need to find a river.”

There was rustling and Madga’s heart beat sped up as she turned to find Ress standing up. Ress, quick but not rushed, went about collecting her things and fixing her clothes. First a well-taken-care-of leather chest piece that she snuggly tied over top her white linen tunic. Then she pulled on linen fingerless gloves, and leather pieces to protect her forearms. She retrieved her spear and small shield, attaching them to her pack before shouldering it. From between her shirt and leather chest piece she grabbed her comb, trading it for the ribbon that she had held between her teeth.

She smiled. “I can tied my hair as we walk. Which way should we go?”

Madga blinked. Air slowly escaped her open mouth.

“Are you okay, Madga?”

She inhaled, and blurted out, “Why? What are you coming with me? You don’t need to.”

Ress smiled again. “I know, but I want to.”

“But why?”

Ress’ smile turned apologetic, tinted with shame. “Because I shouldn’t have left you alone and in pain before. I’m sorry.”

Madga frowned. “I’m fine now. You don’t have to come.”

Hesitation briefly flashed across Ress’ expression, but she didn’t budge. “I don’t mind. I want to.”

A branch snapped inside Madga and her face scrunched up.

“But why?! Why do you care?? I’m a Gwae!”

The silence of the sanctuary was suddenly too thick and too much. Madga swallowed, quickly realizing she was panting. She fought to control her breathing.

Ress stared at her with a shocked expression. Madga glanced away. Her shoulders turned inward and she ducked her head.

A heavy sigh filled the space between the trees.

“Yes,” Ress said. “You are. And I’m a Suuroo. But that doesn’t define us.”

Madga looked up, her brow creased in confusion.

Ress continued, glancing away as she said, “…I once let it. When I fought against the Tasoragh I thought they were my enemies; I thought the Coo’noam were just dumb dogs; I saw the Wrysal as too close to our plains.”

She looked Madga in the eye but she had to glanced away. She raised her hands. “I can’t tell you what I thought about the Gwae. I know my wife-brother hates them. I know that some people still believe in the old stories—that they brought down the sun with the help of the goddess Gwae before hiding it in a clay pot,” she said, nearly scoffing.

She firmly shook her head. “I never thought much of those stories. And I’ve met too many people and Gwae to know better.” She paused. She looked at Madga, and spoke with a tone of doubt about her next words. “Not all of my tribe was as kind to me as they should have been because I couldn’t continue to be what they wanted, the warrior they knew I used to be. What I wanted to be again. But I’ve changed. I’ve adapted. Please, let me join you. Anyone who still blames the Gwae is blind and lives too much in the old stories.”

Madga stared in shock. Her knee bent, but she turned and stopped herself from stepping forward. She looked down at her spear, grasping it with both hands and twisting the end into the dirt. Her brown furrowed in thought.

Ress’ mouth twitched. “If we stick together, we can travel just about anywhere. Where the Gwae are hated I can speak for you, and where the Suuroo are hated you can speak for me.”

After a heavy pause, Madga looked up.

“…where are you going?”

“No where in particular.” She wore a lopsided smile.

“Oh.”

“Although, I wouldn’t mind filling up my waterskin at the next river, if you’ll have me travel with you?”

Madga glanced down. A small, kind breeze passed between the trees, petting her hair and causing the tips of the fire to dance.

She looked at Ress.

Still smiling, Ress raised her brows in question.

Madga’s chest hurt. Her feet fought to run. Then they fought to stay.

She swallowed. With a hoarse voice, she said. “O-okay.”

Synopsis: Madga suffers through great pain on her own, until a group comes upon her in the woods. One of them is Ress, who is determined to help anyone in need.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ────── · 。ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

She whimpered and rocked into the soft wool of her brown cloak lying on the ground. The top arch of a root jabbed her hip but she barely noticed. It felt as though an animal with sharp claws was tearing into her insides, while someone dug in and scooped out her blood with a spoon.

The fire next to her quietly flickered, in danger of dying out. A formerly white cloth, long stained and cleaned multiple times over, lay crumped next to it. Beyond it her pack and its contents had been hastily scattered across the ground.

She whimpered again and tears rolled across her face to fall on the wool.

She jerked—several footsteps padded along the dirt of the forest floor. Branches of smaller bushes were pushed aside and a face greeted her. Then two more.

Preservation overruled her pain and she scrambled to sit up.

The first person had used a spear to push aside the bushes. As she stepped forward she pulled it back and away from Madga.

The large woman raised her free hand. “You’re safe,” she said, as though speaking to a frightened animal. “We’re not going to fight you.”

Madga’s eyes flickered to the others, then widened and flashed to her long blond hair. Her breath caught in her throat. She made to stand but a lightning bolt of pain shot through abdomen. She fell with a cry of pain.

The woman dropped the spear and rushed forward to catch her. She lowered her to her knees. Madga leaned into the comforting touch without realizing it; she quickly straightened and slipped out of her grasp.

“Sorry, I’ll go-”

“Go?” the woman said in surprise. “Why would you leave? You’re clearly in pain-”

“Because she’s Gwae,” a man spat.

Madga and the woman looked up.

The woman hesitated. “Yes, but-”

Madga shifted farther away. Her heart beat faster as the fire flickered and the man’s short hair and beard flashed red in the light. A Suuroo and an EreTaam.

The EreTaam man said, “We agreed that you’d take us to Reygo. Not to help one of them.”

Madga kept her eyes on the ground. She curled in on herself, expecting the Suuroo to agree, or hit her.

Instead, she rolled on to her butt.

Madga stared wide-eyed as she said, “I did agree to escort you, yes. I agreed to protect you. I also swore to protect others and right now this woman needs my help. You’re free to go to Reygo on your own. I will see you again.”

She turned to Madga. Her dark brown eyes looked over her, searching for the source of her pain. Finding nothing, she glanced around at the mess, her gaze landing on the stained cloth.

She nodded and removed her pack, untying the small, round shield attached to it. She put the shield aside and began digging. Madga’s eyes widened as she pulled out bone, and then metalshaped daggers, putting them aside to continue looking.

The third person shifted from foot to foot. Metal clanked as she moved. With a sigh, she finally stepped into the little space. She carefully lowered her large, heavy pack down on the opposite side of the fire. She stretched, using the movement to sneak glances at Madga. Her long, auburn hair was braided, and decorated in with wood and metalshaped beads. Her clothes also had bits of shaped metal—fasteners and decorations. The amount of metal like made her Reygo. Her nervous glances at Madga, and somewhat to the Suuroo warrior, bolstered Madga’s guess. Reygo’s trade with Gwae was tentative, and the Suuroo weren’t fond of either.

Madga looked at the Suuroo. The woman smiled as she finally found what she was looking for. She pulled out a cloth pouch and held it to her.

Madga tentatively accepted it.

The EreTaam huffed loud and she flinched, dropping the pouch. The man stomped around the fire, picking a spot as far away from Madga as he could get. He removed his large bag, holding on to it tightly after he sat down. He glared and she quickly adverted her gaze.

The Suuroo gently picked up the pouch again and untied it, revealing a large pile of dried herbs. She held it up for Madga to sniff.

Then she asked, “Do you have water?”

Madga recognized the smell of the herbs. There was something else, maybe for taste, but she knew what she was offering.

Madga blinked up at her. “Ye-yes. I do.”

The woman kindly said, “Why don’t you get that ready, and I’ll get the fire roaring again, hm?”

Madga took the pouch again. She sat, watching in a daze as the woman shifted to kneel by the fire. A moment later the flames grew with new life, illuminating the trees around them.

The man’s glare hadn’t faltered. Nearby, the Reygo woman began removing her beads and braids. A wood comb rested in wait on her lap.

The Suuroo sat back down. The movement jolted Madga into action and she quickly searched around for her water skin, pot, a clean cloth, and a cup.

The woman smiled. “Ress, daughter of Ceosu. Wife of Sorsee and mother of Romee, Sera, and Arna.”

She hesitated as she poured some water into the wooden cup. “…Madga.” When she didn’t go further, the EreTaam snorted and muttered something. She kept her gaze on her cup.

Ress said, “Nice to meet you, Madga.”

Madga silently nodded as she poured the water from the cup into the pot. The imaginary spoon scraped at her insides again and she grimaced, choking back a groan of pain.

Once the pot rested on the fire the Reygo woman spoke up. She slowly combed her hair as she said, “…Eeyn. Great-great-niece of Gavrg the Funny. Oh!” Her eyes lit up. “He once stopped a fight between a Gwae and Reygo!!”

Madga only glanced up in acknowledgement. Ress furtively shook her head. The EreTaam didn’t look away from Madga.

Eeyn made a quiet noise in her throat and deliberately returned her focus to her hair.

Madga tried to keep an eye on the pot, but the unseen claws suddenly dug deep, tearing at her flesh and painting her skin sickly pale. She swayed and Ress shouted something.

A moment later she struggled to open her eyes. Her eyelids weighed heavy, but she was able to force them open.

Someone was leaning over her. A strand of hair shone like gold in the light, just before a heavy weight settled carefully on her lower abdomen. She moaned as the heat travelled through her, soothing the pain until it was just bearable .

Brown eyes flashed to her. Ress sighed in relief. “Good, you’re awake. How does that feel?”

Madga rubbed an eye. “Awake?”

“You passed out.” Bewildered, Eeyn said, “I’ve heard of people who experience such pain before, but I’ve never seen it. If you can sit up, I’ve finished your brew for you.”

The EreTaam man grunted. “I’ve seen it.” He grumbled, “I’ve added some herbs. Drink it.”

It took her a few beats of time before she could gather the energy to twist onto her side. Her hand shot down to keep the hot rock wrapped in layers of cloth in place against her. She carefully glanced around. EreTaam had put his bag to the side but he no longer held on to it, instead staring grumpily into the fire. Ress watched her carefully with half-raised hands, while Eeyn waited with the cup.

Madga hesitated. Her lips worried together, then another bolt of pain overcame the heat of the stone and she accepted the cup with a whimper.

Ress’ hands lowered and she looked at Madga in sympathy. “One of my daughters has pain like this. I can’t imagine having it… I don’t know how she goes through it. Brew and heat seem to help.” She smiled. “Once you’ve finished, get some sleep. I’ll keep watch.”

The EreTaam suddenly looked up. “What? We should go-”

Eeyn weakly tried, “YuuTes…”

“Again, you’re free to go.” Ress began gathering up Madga’s things and placing them by her pack.

YuuTes scowled.

Madga’s shoulders turned inward. She weakly said, “It’s okay. I’ll be fine…. Go ahead.”

Ress’ gaze turned to her. Her eyes softened. “Madga….”

“You heard her,” YuuTes said. He rose to his feet and donned his pack. Madga choked on another whimper and he glanced at her. Something flickered in his eyes, but it quickly disappeared.

Eeyn glanced around rapidly. “Wha-what? But I’m not ready! I thought we were resting!!”

YuuTes’s mouth twitched. “Eeyn, you could have nine-hundred rests and you would still have sore feet.”

“I’m not used to all this travelling! It’s your fault!”

Madga turned her head and her wool cloak muffled another whimper.

As the two bickered Madga heard Ress crouch next to her.

She whispered, “Are you sure? If you need help I don’t mind staying here longer. Just say the word.”

Madga shook her head, rubbing her face against the soft wool and wiping away the hidden tears. “I’m okay.” She shrunk when her voice cracked and hoped Ress wouldn’t notice.

After a long moment, Ress quietly sighed and stood. Madga listened as she carefully walked around, gathering her pack and weapons. Branches rustled as she followed YuuTes’ through the brush with slow, reluctant steps. Eeyn hurriedly packed her bag and rushed off after them, muttering a ‘sorry, see you again’.

Madga’s fingers clenched around her cup, then let go. Sniffles and hiccups escaped as they dug into the wool. Another punch jabbed her insides and she inhaled a cry, cursing herself, and cursing herself again for forgetting to gather extra herbs in time. Then she wouldn’t have had to rely on them.

She pushed aside the cup to curl in on herself, holding the warm stone tight against her body. She rocked, trying to alleviate the pain as she cried into her sleeve.

Synopsis: Madga arrives in Nahmin in the middle of a storm. She finds delicious food, a warm bed, and unwanted attention from a travelling bard.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ────── · 。ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Nearly warm rains assaulted the beach. Ragged ocean waves crashed down, leaving driftwood ashore, before dragging it back in an instant later. A sudden gust pushed against a wave; it splashed and arched high, glittering in a thin slice of moonlight before the moon disappeared behind the clouds.

With the Nahmin tribe finally in sight Madga picked up the pace, climbing the gently sloping hill that rose above the beach. New visitors would quickly mistake the houses for smaller, oddly placed hills, but a careful eye could discern square wooden structures sitting on top of each hill, allowing smoke to rise from within, protected from rain and snow by small, peaked covers made from tightly woven reeds and grasses.

Madga dashed to the largest rectangular house and the entrances along the lengthwise side. No one dared brave the winds and rain, and as she neared she could make out many voices and music.

Sudden laughter rose as she stepped in. Someone shouted for her to shut the door and she did with a small gasp.

Outside the wild weather pawed at the door and roof, but didn’t break through. The instant heat sharply reminded her of her soaking clothes. Separate hearth fires crackled and hummed along the centre. People gathered around them, faces rosy from warmth, drink, and company.

She didn’t spot any particular hair colour other than auburn, and certainly not a shock of red or blond. She licked her lips and rubbed them together in thought. As she made for an empty bed she removed her wool hat, deeming it safe enough to reveal her long, wavy black hair.

She leaned her spear against the wall next to the cot and removed her pack. Her grey wool wrap and brown cloak came away easily, if heavy and weighed down with water. She stepped away, hanging them on a small wooden rack to dry next to other clothes. She untied her leather shoes from around her feet and placed them by the fire, also next to a few others. She put her hat and socks beside them before returning to the bed.

Everything in her pack had remained largely dry, if just the hint of dampness, like reaching into a rabbit’s hole in the cool ground. With a glance around she pulled out her long-sleeve linen tunic, leggings, and cloth shoes. No one seemed interested in her. She relaxed further and went to the end of the long house to change behind thick drapes. After remerging she hung up her wool tunic and leggings next to her wrap and cloak. Although the height of summer, the wool helped to keep her dry longer than linen would have.

She shook out her hair with a hand. It was already beginning to dry. Reaching into her pack she retrieved a cloth tied into a small bag and turned toward the largest fire. The chief would do, but she didn’t want to bother her. Or had enough time passed and they had a new chief? Perhaps a man, as was usual in Nahmin.

The sound of music grew as she wandered through the building. A happy flute and rhythmic rattles accompanied a deep drum. The thrum pressed against her chest, and together with the heat of the fires, it held her like a warm hug. A small smile spread across her lips.

A woman’s voice sung above the conversations. She sang of life’s bodily pleasures and Madga’s smile faltered. The tune was fun, but those songs weren’t her favourite. She altered her steps, turning away from the music and once again looking for her goal.

She followed the enticing, welcoming smell of cooked meat and spices. As she grew closer more and more hands and laps were full of food.

People parted and a large, metalshaped cauldron sat on one of the fires. The cauldron’s base had long been blackened by the flames of many meals. Steam rose from inside. Someone stepped forward to stir the stew, then scooped some into a waiting bowl.

Next to the cauldron stood a group of three people chatting rapidly in a debate about the food in front of them. A small fire crackled amidst a circle of rocks. A pan sat on top, cooking fish while a bundle of sticks were lying on the ground next to it. One of the people, a woman, absently stepped away, adding more into the discussion while tending to the meat.

Madga turned toward the man at the stew.

He glanced at her, then again in surprise. A smile appeared under his small moustache.

He said, “Local Leaping salt fish, Yellow Flame mushrooms from EreTaam, Suuroo beans, Hygtah hazelnuts, and spirit greens” His brown eyes were warm. “I’m Ahoon, great-grandson of Igwik. Do you have something to add?”

With bright eyes she swallowed and nodded. She held out the little cloth bag and untied it, keeping the pile of small, dried chopped greens cradled in her hands. She raised it carefully as the man leaned down to get a sniff.

Pleasant recognition passed over his face.

Then a small crease formed between his brows as he straightened. “I don’t want to add spear-leek to this particular stew, buuuut….”

He looked over with a knowing look just as one of the two women in the group of three quickly joined them.

“You said spear-leek?” she asked excitedly. Her eager gaze shifted from him to Madga.

Madga said, “Ye-yes.”

She showed her and the woman’s eyes lit up. She beamed and swept the cloth and its contents out of her hands.

“This is the perfect substitute!” she said, spinning back to the group.

The others quickly agreed.

Ahoon chuckled. “I guess that means your offer is accepted. Here, want some?” He turned and picked up another bowl, this one made from clay. The spoon was of wood.

“Oh, yes,” Madga quickly said, “Thank you.”

He filled the bowl and placed the spoon inside before giving it to her. “Not a problem.”

Madga the warmth of the stew heated up the bowl and warmed her hands. She turned, but started and nearly lost her spoon when the woman suddenly spoke again.

“Come over later and have some smoked crab!” she waved, and said with a grin. The other woman and the man eagerly removed the cooked fish to prepare for the crab. People nearby overheard and began avidly chatting in excitement.

Madga nodded with a small grunt.

She returned to her cot where she sat down and pulled her legs up. The next bed over had been happily claimed by a woman, resting with her hands behind her head. Madga glanced at her. She shifted and focused on the tantalizing smell of the stew.

The steam rose steadily from the bowl. She scooped up a spoonful and gently blew on it before cautiously popping it in her mouth. She quickly took it out to blow on it again before trying a second time. She hummed in delight—the stew was warm and hearty, and the salt sparked on her tongue. She scooped up some more, slowly enjoying her meal.

As she ate a stray, cool breeze drifted toward her. With the spoon in her mouth she glanced up in time to watched as one of the doors closed. The people greeted each other before peeling off their wet layers. The woman in the other cot shivered and looked in the same direction with a frown.

Madga scooped up some stew and a lock of her black hair fell forward. She inhaled, quickly shifting to move it away from the bowl, at the same time trying to avoid spilling. But another small gust of wind tossed her hair and splattered a few drops on her tunic.

She gasped and shot up, putting her food aside to run to the nearest wash basin. After a good scrub with soap and water, she returned to the bed with a lighter heart. The front of her tunic slowly dried while she finished her meal.

She licked her lips as she considered the near empty bowl. She raised it to her face, licking inside and earning a wet line on her forehead from the rim. She wiped it away and instead used her fingers to clean the bowl. She hummed and sucked on the spoon afterwards.

She stood and headed toward the cauldron. The music had long since settled down to gentle tones and the voice was gone. Conversations became quiet murmurs as the time for sleep had come. Some people had left for their own homes while the rest remained to sleep on the visitors’ beds or nap by the fires. Anyone with food in their hands quietly enjoyed their meals.

“Hey, is it good?” a woman said as she suddenly walked beside her.

Madga jumped and held tight to the bowl. It was the woman who had been lying in the other cot. She was about half a head taller than Madga, with wavy brown hair that had been cut just below the tops of her shoulders. Her skirt of criss-crossing brown and green stripes swished around her cloth boots.

Madga nodded. She quickened her steps but the woman kept pace.

“That’s good. I haven’t ate’n yet.”

Madga didn’t comment.

Still at the cauldron, Ahoon accepted her bowl and spoon with a sleepy smile. “Would you like more?”

“No, thank you,” she said.

Uncomfortably close to her, the woman smirked. “I’ll have a bowl.”

He nodded and stepped back, trading the dirty set for clean ones. Meanwhile, Madga took the opportunity to slip away.

At her sudden absence the woman looked around with a noise of surprise. She quickly spotted Madga, but before she could speak, one of the other cooks waved.

She gestured for Madga to join them.

With a glance at the first woman, Madga reluctantly approached.

In a quieter voice than before, the cook said, “The spear-leek you brought was perfect, just as I thought, and popular!”

“We saved you some crab meat,” the man said. His long beard and moustache were gathered and tied in a tight braid, then tossed over his shoulder to join his hair and keep it out of the food and fire. The woman’s long hair was held up and out of the way with a metalshaped hair stick. The third woman of their group was absent.

Madga’s mouth watered at the smell of spices and smoked meat.

She sadly put a hand over her full stomach.

She tentatively asked, “May I… take some with me?”

“Sure,” the man said, and the woman began removing it from the fire. “But be sure to eat it as soon as you can, okay?”

The woman smiled. “Come back before you leave and we’ll have it ready for you.”

Madga nodded eagerly. She eyed the food again before turning away.

She inhaled and coughed on air. The woman from before stood a few steps away, watching her intently and with a bowl in hand as she ate. With Madga’s gaze on her, she winked.

Madga walked around, giving her plenty of space. Her heart sunk as footsteps soon followed.

“I’m Tuah, by the way,” the woman said. “Druid-bard. You?”

Madga glanced. “Ma-Madga.”

When she didn’t mention a mother name, Tuah’s eyes lit up. She smirked, licking her lips. “Nice to meet you, Madga.” She smacked her lips. “So, how did you come to Nahmin? I’m travelling, of course.”

Madga didn’t answer. Her heart slowly quickened as they came up to the cots.

“A bit breezy in here, eh?”

Madga glanced up at her. Green-brown eyes watched her closely, not looking away as she took another spoonful of stew and loudly sucked on it. There was a person in the bed on there other side of Madga’s. They stirred at the noise, but didn’t wake.

Madga firmly focused on her pack as she shifted it to the floor. “I-I’m going to sleep now. Goodni- goodsleep.”

Tuah’s head tilted in curiosity, but Madga slipped under the linen blanket. She closed her eyes and curled up. Her heart thumped loud as she waited—hoped—for the woman to go away.

Eventually Tuah turned. She steps paused and Madga risked a peek between her eyelashes. The woman had her back to her. Then her hair shifted as she glanced back and Madga quickly shut her eyes again. She fought to control her breathing.

Finally, the woman walked away and Madga breathed out.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ────── · 。ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

A crease formed between her brows. She snuffled and rubbed her eyes, brushing away the sleep. She licked her lips, dry from the heat of the fires.

The smell of salt and fish met her nose. She sat up and squinted toward the doors, which had been opened at some point while she slept. Outside the winds and rains had stopped. There were less people inside the chief’s house. The Nahmin and their visitors were out, taking advantage of the calm after the storm.

Slowly, she rolled out of the cot and stretched. She collected her clothes from where they hung; the wool and linen were cozy and warm. She changed and dressed in her green, long-sleeved tunic with a short-sleeved white tunic underneath. Linen leggings came next, then leather shoes tied tight around her feet. She debated on her wool wrap, but ended up folding it into her pack along with the rest of the clothes. She finished with tying back the long strands of hair around her forehead, leaving the rest to flow freely.

Moments later she arrived by the cauldron. Ahoon and the other cooks were gone, likely to sleep, replaced by a woman with her hair tied in braids and beads.

She raised a brow at Madga. “Nik, daughter of Kanber.”

“I’m Madga…. The others left some crab meat for me…?”

Nik stared, waiting with a raised brow as she stirred the pot. Madga shifted on her feet.

Nik huffed and roughly dropped the spoon in the cauldron. Madga winced but remained quiet as Nik stepped aside to collect a small bundle. She wordlessly handed it to her. Madga fumbled, nearly dropping it. She clutched it close and turned away.

She carefully packed it before shouldering her bag.

Tuah stood up from her bed as Madga left the cots. “Ready?”

She nearly tripped. “What?”

“Ready to go? I’m joining you.” Tuah thumbed the single strap of her pack, which lay across her chest and rested on her hip. Another strap connected to a large, circular cloth bag on her back. She was dressed a tad warmer, with a wool wrap in addition to her layered wool skirt. The sleeves of a brown, wool tunic peeked out from under her short-sleeved, blue linen tunic. A wide leather belt with metalshaped designs went about her middle.

Madga stared wide-eyed, her breath caught in her throat.

Tuah raised a brow and looked at her with a tilt of her head. “You okay, Madga?”

Madga suddenly inhaled. She shook her head, keeping her eyes down as she quickly searched out one of the farther doors.

To her horror, Tuah followed along.

“Hey, wait! You forgot this!”

She glanced just as Tuah caught up with her. Her spear filled her vision. She accepted it with a small gasp.

She mumbled, “Thank you.”

“No problem. So, where we headed?”

Madga made a noise in her throat. “Nowhere.”

“What?”

“I’m… I usually travel by myself.”

Tuah grinned. “I usually travel with others.”

Madga’s stomach churned.

“I… I’m not....”

Tuah walked out the door first. The skies had cleared, leaving behind an endlessness of stars. The moon was sleeping, allowing only the stars to light the land and sea.

Tuah put her hands on her hips and breathed deep. “I’m thinking… EreTaam next!”

She turned, and before Madga could jump at the opportunity to decline her, Tuah’s eyes flashed to her dark hair. “Or maybe not. How about Reygo? Hygtah?”

Madga’s mouth opened and closed, trying to remember which tribe hated which now. She couldn’t recall, and came up with something else.

“Rela.”

Tuah’s nose wrinkled. “Where?”

“Re-Rela. It’s far away.”

Tuah’s lips pressed in disgust. “North?”

Madga quickly nodded. Tuah didn’t answer right away and Madga took advantage of her hesitation.

She had only managed ten steps before Tuah sighed ruefully. Her heart sunk as she followed.

“I can do north. Where exactly-”

“Tuah!”

They turned. At the far end of the grass-covered building someone waved for her.

He beamed and jogged over, followed by others. “That was amazing earlier. We need to play music together again sometime.”

Tuah wore a smug smile and put a hand on her hip. “Of course! I’d love too. Sadly I’ll be gone for a while. I’m heading to Rela.”

“Where?” He laughed. “What’s that?”

“Not sure. Ask- hey!”

Madga overheard her from where she hid behind one of the smaller long houses. Quick footsteps approached and she curled in tighter on herself under a large, overturned longboat.

Tuah’s cloth boots dash by. Madga didn’t move. Long moments later they returned, slowly stomping back to the chief’s house. Tuah muttered to herself but Madga didn’t catch it.

She waited for a long time. Other voices and feet came and went. Finally she uncurled and peeked out. When she couldn’t spot Tuah, or the other music-makers she crawled out from under the boat. After looking around she reached in for her things.

She remained on careful watched as she walked south, toward the edge of the tribe. When no eyes seemed to track her she quickened her pace.

She didn’t slow until she was a good distance away and her feet were sore.

Warning: a character experiences vertigo, but it's not described in great detail.

Synopsis: Ress is used to being a protector. She fights for her tribe and her children. But after a blow to the head she's sent southern half of Suuroo, away from the fighting and away from her purpose. She tries to be strong, tries to find something to fill the void, but nothing really works. Then one day a visitor comes and gives her an idea of how she can keep her life's purpose.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ────── · 。ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Arms suddenly wrapped around her neck from behind with a chorus of giggles.

“Mum, it’s going to start soon! Oh, that looks good, mum.”

Ress blinked and focused on the work in her hands. The wicker plate had holes the size of small berries.

The corners of her lips twitched upward in a smirk. “Thank you, hun. That’s nice of you to say.”

He laughed and kissed her freckled cheek. “No, Mum! It really does look good! You could be a weaver-” he gasped. “I mean- um….” He quickly let go and pointedly turned to look at the crowd of people beyond the buildings. “We should go or we’re going to miss sis’ naming.”

Ress shifted the failed plate from her lap and rose to her feet.

“And your’s too,” she reminded him.

She held out her hand and he eagerly grabbed on to it, smiling up at her with searching eyes. She reassured him with a smile of her own, but once he turned away her smile faded.

They followed along the familiar trodden paths. Cold torches stood in front of the houses, and smoke rose from their thatched rooftops. The moon shone bright and, adding to the light of the bonfire ahead.

Drums rumbled a rhythmic beat through the air, which thrummed through their chests. A duo of flutes accompanied it, followed by the deep voice of a visiting druid-bard.

Ress smiled through each heavy beat on her skull.

One of the farmers greeted her and she slowed to say a few words.

Her son tugged on her hand. “Muuum!”

Sarma laughed, “Never mind, you had better go.”

Ress waved as she was pulled along. Her son weaved them through the crowd. Some waved and smiled at them, while others averted their gaze.

Ress quietly sighed through her nose.

Then a thought occurred to her. “Is your grandma there?”

“Yeah! She’s with everyone. See!”

She ignored the lump in her stomach as she followed his pointing finger. People sat around the roaring bonfire with cups of mead in hand and wicker plates full of warm food on their laps. Around them people danced and sang along to the music.

Sorsee’s mother and brothers sat with Ress’ aunt and uncle on the opposite side of the fire. They looked up and their smiles slid from their faces.

Ress straightened her shoulders.

One of her girls greeted her from where she sat nearest the chief’s home before anyone else could.

She waved, “Mum!” Her hair was tied up in a horsetail. A few bone beads had been woven into a single braid framing her face.

“You’re late, mum,” her other girl grumbled. Her frown quickly turned into a grin. Her hair flowed freely down her back, with a bird’s feather tied to one lock.

Her son finally let go of her hand and quickly sat down next to them. Under the cool light of the moon their blond hair shone as brightly as hers.

“Mum was working on a plate,” her boy explained.

“A warrior’s plate,” an elderly voice said. “The one who eats from it will be fortunate indeed.”

The chief rose up from the long ramp leading down into her home. Her well-worn silvery cloak had been wrapped tightly around her to hold back the chill. An ornate, bone broach and pin kept it in place, but her hands clutched at it from the inside for added security. Her druid-advisor and a guard followed.

Ress bowed. “Thank you, Chief Seaur. I apologize for being late.”

Seaur chuckled. Her old voice cracked, “Let’s not worry about it, hm? I’m eager to learn what new names we have this year.”

Ress smiled. “So am I.” She bent to her children and they turned to give her better access. She gave them each a kiss on her forehead. She briefly brushed their hair and got giggles in return.

She stood and her smile fell as she found a place near her aunt. The dirt and grasses were dry, flattened over time from many feet.

“Hello,” she greeted flatly as she faced the ceremony.

With an irritated look on his face, Seaur’s advisor called out for the visiting druid-priest.

“Did I hear you were trying to weave again?” her uncle asked carefully.

“I was, Uncle Roan.”

Her aunt Seia leaned forward, smiling as she tried to make eye contact with her. She anxiously rubbed her hands together. “And how did it go?”

Ress glanced at her, but her gaze remained focused on her children. Laughter erupted as the priest was dragged from among the dancers. She winced at the noise.

Once the laughter died down, she began, “Well….”

One of Sorsee’s brothers glared up at the priest from his plate. He muttered, “Useless Kasst druid.” His eyes lit up and he pointed at Ress with a dirty finger, “That’s what you should be, sister-wife!” Small bits of deer meat and green flecks of leek flew from his mouth. Some remained in his long moustache and beard.

His brother Inaee scowled at him. “Clean yourself, Arcsen.”

Arcsen chuckled as he wiped his mouth and beard. “Ah, sorry. Better?” He grinned and giggled at his own joke. “Ress the druid.”

She barely glanced at him.

Aunt Seia wondered, “It’s not a horrible idea.” She gasped and touched her forearm. “You could become a healer! I bet one of them would be willing to mentor you—and you could help out our warriors! Inaee could begin your learning.”

Roan muttered, “Seia.”

She turned to him with wide eyes. “What? What did I say?”

“Perhaps we should talk about this later,” he pressed with a meaningful look.

“But I was only just-”

Ress could feel her wife-mother’s heavy gaze as Saceera said, “If they were to accept her, then being a druid would likely mean constant travel. With her illness she wouldn’t be able to.”

Inaee scratched at his much shorter beard. “She could settle in a tribe.”

“Hm. I suppose-”

“Hush,” Ress interrupted without looking at Saceera. “The ceremony is starting,”

“Finally,” Arcsen muttered.

Saceera frowned at Ress, but didn’t say anything as the priest cleared her throat.

The music and dancers didn’t seem to hear them. They clapped and howled with laughter, their limbs moving to the beat of the drums.

Chief Seaur’s guard raised his voice, which shot over them like thunder. The world quickly turned quiet.

Ress’ body relaxed but the noise in her right ear, like that of a rushing river, roared on.

The priest ran through the familiar motions. She greeted spirits and asked everyone to call upon their ancestors, particularly any deceased family members of the children. Ress pressed a hand over her heart as she murmured her wife’s name.

The priest welcomed Serova, and then Soarfi as an after-thought. At the first name a soft snort came out of the dark from one of the horses. Chuckles arose from the audience. The priest greeted Messaress, and a comfortable but respectful hush flowed over the crowd.

Ress smiled with pride. She watched as her children stared up at the priest with wide eyes. They had seen namings before but watching and participating were two entirely different experiences.

Her eyes grew watery as the three lovingly presented Sorsee’s favourite wooden cup and bone knife. The priest put aside her wooden staff to accept them. Then she smiled and spoke to the children as she knelt. From her small pouch she pulled out a metal knife and a roll of cloth. Their eyes widened at the shiny metal.

The priest’s smile grew at their curiosity.

“Now, who’s first?” she asked.

“Me! I want my name first!”

“Hey!”

“I-I can wait.”

Ress chuckled. Her bold daughter and her son grinned back at her. Her second daughter’s smile wavered, but Ress nodded reassuringly. Her girl sat straighter with a brighter smile.

The priest held out her hand.

Long moments later the entire tribe cheered, shattering the silence. Drums accompanied them. Ress grimaced but smiled.

She clapped and cheered, “Romee!”

Romee’s long, wild hair whirled around. She grinned and waved with her now bandaged hand. Eventually the priest called for quiet again.

The priest turned to Ress’ son and repeated her actions. Soon enough he got up and ran directly into Ress’ strong arms.

He laughed and said, “I’m Arna! Do you like it, mum?”

She hugged him tight. “I do,” she said warmly. “It suits you.”

He beamed and hugged her as tight as he could before returning to his spot.

Ress’ last girl bit her lip and turned her face away from the bone blade as it neared her hand. Ress met her eyes and she waved. Her girl smiled a little but it fell when the knife cut her palm. She hissed and the priest apologized. The woman caught the blood in the cup and then cut another new length of cloth with the other, metal knife to wrap her hand in.

“Sera!” Arna shouted moments later. He leaned around Romee and hugged her. Sera giggled and returned the hug. Then Romee smirked and leaned back until all three fell backward onto the ground. They laughed and their audience cheered.

The priest finished and Chief Seaur stepped forward, but before she could say a word Sera, Romee, and Arna got up.

They ran to Ress and she wrapped her arms around them all three. One had their arms around her neck, another around her arm, and the third around her other arm.

“Mum, it hurt but I really like my new name.”

“Do you like my name?”

“Mum, mum, call me by my name!”

Ress winced and turned her head in pain. Immediately their voices lowered. Wide eyed, they whispered apologies.

She smiled. She matched their quiet voices and said, “It’s alright, it’s alright, but you should go back and finish.” She nodded toward the chief, who was waiting patiently for them.

Sera and Arna gasped and ran back. Romee grinned as she stepped away. She threw out her arms and spun around several times before returning to her spot.

Chief Seaur chuckled, but it turned into a dry cough. She cleared her throat and accepted a cup of water with thanks. Her sparkling eyes returned to Arna, Sera, and Romee. The wrinkles around her eyes grew as she smiled.

She briefly let go of her cloak to raise her arms. “Welcome, Romee, Arna, and Sera. May you be guided and protected by those around you, and may you do the same for them.”

Arna, Sera, and Romee beamed and bowed their heads. Cheers erupted. People stood and clapped and the music struck up again, filling the air with noise.

Ress covered her ears as she rose to her feet. Her children looked at her but she smiled reassuringly.

Then a war horn tore through the air. The sound drowned everything out and burrowed deep into her skull like a spear in the flesh of an enemy warrior. The world shifted and spun, shifted back and spun again. She inhaled in panic and her feet fell out from under her.

Someone caught her before she could hit the ground and she whimpered from the sudden stop. There was shouting, and noise, and her ear thundered. It felt like a cloth had been stuffed into it.

“No, no. Not-” She swallowed hard as her stomach turned. “Not again.”

“Whoa! That’s an interesting dance move. Is everything alright?” the person asked with a chuckle. She whimpered again and his smile faded.

Somewhere Romee yelled, “Stupid Sonu!”

“Mum?!” Arna rushed over. “Are you okay?”

“Mum?!” Sera rubbed her shoulder. The man shifted to bring Ress’ arm over his shoulders, and she said, “Slowly! She might be sick.”

Ress choked back a sob and he stilled. She opened her eyes, unable to keep them closed without her stomach lurching harder. Arna saw her eyes and called for help.

Inaee wiped his hands on his tunic as he rushed over. He checked her eyes like Arna had. He nodded and looked at the stranger holding her up. “Can you bring her to the healing house?”

“No,” she swallowed again. “Just need… to lie down.”

Inaee looked at her for a second before sighing. He turned to the faces around them and nodded.

“Where are we going?” the stranger asked.

Inaee answered, “Her home.”

“Slow- slow,” she weakly reminded.

Arna and Sera stayed close as Inaee led the way. She was heavier but he held her up with ease and didn’t seem to mind her stumbling feet.

Sarma had followed the sounds of the commotion. She frowned and snapped at Sonu, “You know better than that!”

Sonu scowled and looked away. He held the long war-horn in his hands. “Oh come on, I was just celebrating.”

“Right next to her,” she shot back. Around them a couple of others nodded and glared at him. The rest ignored them.

He muttered an insincere, “Sorry.” With a last glance at Ress he left.

Ress fought to keep her feet under her but the ground kept sliding away. She leaned heavily on the stranger as he followed Inaee through the crowd.

“This is why she needs to give up on being a warrior and do something else,” a man muttered. A woman nodded. Another woman glared at Ress out of the corner of her eyes.

She tried to straighten again but her world still spun. She whimpered and let the stranger take over.

A forever later they finally descended the packed ramp into the family home. Inside, her fingers clutched at the stranger’s clothes as he lowered her to a cot. She let go and when he stepped aside the flickering fire in the centre of the house churned her stomach. She quickly turned her head and stared at the ceiling as she breathed quickly.

The stranger leaned over her again. A scar traced from his forehead to his jaw, leaving behind a closed dip where an eye had once been.

He observed her closely, and then leaned back and said, “Oh I see. Her eyes are moving a lot. Well, that’s strange.”

Romee stomped her shoe on the padded dirt floor. “Leave her alone.”

The man cowed and stepped back. “Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. Erm… what’s wrong?”

The fabric of Inaee’s pants shifted as he kneeled next to Ress. He offered her a cup of water from the cauldron by the fire. She held onto it but didn’t take a drink right away, vaguely registering as the warmth spread through the cup and into her hand.

“It’s an… an injury,” she answered him. “I fought… north… and a Tas- Tasoragh hit….” She stopped to fight with her stomach.

Arna had quickly sat next to her bed. He turned and explained, “They hit her head with a rock.” He bit his lip. “Then she got sick like this.”

Inaee shifted back, allowing Romee and Sera to get closer to her. He sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know what it is. We asked a druid-healer some time ago but they hadn’t heard of it either. They promised they would ask others, but they haven’t returned yet.”

Ress took a breath. She quickly lifted her head to take a sip. Afterwards she leaned back and breathed.

She licked her lips. She attempted to look toward Sera. “You don’t have to stay. It’s… it’s your naming.”

Sera and Arna quickly shook their heads.

“We won’t leave you alone!” Sera said.

Arna frowned. “We told you before, mum.”

Ress sighed.

The stranger grinned. “Such good pups.”

Inaee raised a brow. His gaze travelled over the man’s cream-coloured tunic and brown leggings. They weren’t too much different from their own clothes.

Romee asked, “Are you a dog? Uncle Arcsen says that the dog tribe is dumb, but he’s makes fun of mum so I don’t believe him.”

A great smile spread across his long face. “Well thank you for not believing him. Yes, I’m a dog. I’m Roe’naco.”

She frowned. “Roe?”

His smile lessened. “No. Roe’naco. Son of Ros’na. And you’re Romee, right?”

She spread her stance with her hands on her hips. “Yup. Daughter of Ress and Sorsee.”

“And you’re Arna, and Sera, and…?”

Arna explained, “Ress, and that’s uncle Inaee.”

“Nice to meet you.” Roe’naco looked at Ress and his smile faded. His voice lowered, “Is there nothing we can do?”

Ress stopped herself from shaking her head. “No. Thank you for your help. It… it’ll be over once I fall asleep.”

“Oh, okay.” He sat down and Romee and Inaee blinked in surprise. He hummed and asked out loud, “Got any good stories?”

Ress’ brow furrowed. “You don’t… have to stay.”

He whined. “Oh course I do. It’s not to leave someone hurting alone.”

“Sorry, Ress,” Inaee said, glancing over Roe’naco again. “You know I’ve said the same thing before. We’ll stay, at least until you fall asleep.”

She quietly hummed. She fought for another sip and then lay down again. Arna gently took her cup from her hands.

Inaee smiled softly in triumph.

He turned to Roe’naco, and in a quiet voice he asked, “I’d heard we had someone from the dog tribe visiting. How are they doing?”

Roe’naco chuckled. “I haven’t been there in a while, so I’m not sure.”

“Are you a druid?” Romee asked. She sat down and held on to her legs where they were crossed.

“Nope.” He smiled. “I’m a warrior.”

“Ah.” Understanding flashed over Inaee’s face.

“Like mum,” Arna said proudly.

Ress tried to look. Their faces still shifted but she could again make out Roe’naco’s scar and missing eye. His long auburn hair was pulled back in braids, revealing a missing ear.

“Not quite like your mum,” Inaee said. He looked at their guest. “I’ve heard Coo’noam’s warriors are travelling warriors.”

“Sort of!” Roe’naco straightened and his voice rose in excitement as he explained, “After training we search for a tribe to stay with for a while.” His gaze travelled around the home and up to the ceiling. “Ive had some trouble deciding who to go with, but I’ve been going around for a while now and helped out some folks, so I figure I might as well be a travelling warrior.” He beamed.

Ress said quietly, “Travelling?”

He nodded firmly. He hummed, eyes bright. “Wherever I go I help those who need help.”

Romee frowned in thought. “Every tribe?”

“Yup.”

Sera’s eyes grew wide. “Would you help the Tasoragh?”

“Sure, if they needed it. Any Coo’noam would.”

Romee’s fist’s bunched in her lap. She glared. “How could you?!”

“Romee,” Ress warned.

“But you fought them! They hurt you!”

“I know, but.…” She took a breath. “The Coo’noam are different. Dogs are like horses, when it… when it comes down to it, you can’t control them. Leave… him be.”

Romee opened her mouth, but closed it and crossed her arms.

“Stupid,” she muttered.

Roe’naco just chuckled.

Inaee sighed. He warned him, “I wouldn’t tell too many people around here that you would help the Tasoragh. Especially if visit northern Suuroo.”

Roe’naco shrugged. “If they don’t like it I’ll just move on. Someone else will need help.”

Inaee rubbed his face with another sigh. Arna looked down in thought. Romee kept silent, glaring at their guest. Sera slowly looked away and grasped Ress’ hand. Ress wrapped her fingers around her hand as she pondered Roe’naco’s words.

“How-” she licked her lips. Arna offered her more water but she declined. “How do you fight with your injury?”

Roe’naco head tilted much like a dog’s might. “Hm? Well, it was hard at first. I had to re-learn a lot. And all the fighting I’ve been doing while travelling has taught me a lot.”

“You kept fighting? After… you were hurt?”

“Of course! I couldn’t imagine doing anything else.” He paused and then straightened with excitement again. His eye brightened. “Ooo! I’ve got a good one. Want to hear a story about the dog who ate the sun?”

Arna and Sera’s eyes widened. Romee slowly uncrossed her arms.

Ress faintly listened as Roe’naco began. The room still spun, and her stomach occasionally twisted forcing her to swallow back the need to empty it, but her eyes grew heavy. Her mind wandered, thoughts turning, until eventually, finally, she fell into a welcome sleep.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ────── · 。ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Ress watched as the familiar blond locks fell to the ground around her. Stray strands picked at her neck but she refrained from moving. She smiled as a horse wandered over, his snout tickling her head and shoulder. He snorted and moved away and she laughed.

“Oh, Osis, it’s not that bad, you crotchety old horse,” Eseca said.

Ress kept still at the foreign feeling of a razor along her skin. “Thank you again,” she said.

“Not a problem. Besides, I’m the only one you’ve got, seeing as no one else has cut hair before. At least, not anyone in a long time.” He dipped the razor into a bowl of water. It faintly sloshed as he shook the blade. Gently holding her head with one wrinkled hand, he brought the razor up again and continued with his work.

She softly said, “I’m sorry if I brought back bad memories.”

“What’s done is done. At least this is for a better reason than my son’s haircut.”

Romee sat next to Ress, facing her with her head resting on her fists.

She watched with a deep frown. “I still don’t get it. Is it because of people who say you shouldn’t be a warrior?” Her tone turned defensive.

“No,” Ress gently said. She paused. “Partly.” Romee took a breath but she quickly said, “I have my own reasons too.”

“You already told Eseca,” she whined. “You could tell me now and we could tell Arna and Sera together.”

“Listen to your mother, Romee,” Eseca said as he worked from the right side to the back. “Or you’ll be picking up horse droppings left around the village.”

Romee pouted but didn’t protest her mentor.

Ress pressed her lips together to fight another smile.

A gust blew across the plains and the grasses softly hissed. Ress shivered without the warmth of her long hair. Eseca’s work continued in silence while around them his other mentees went to and from the horse-keepers’ house. A few glanced at them and then looked in surprise as they walked up the ramp to leave the house, nearly tripping over their feet. Eseca shook his head.

He finally lowered the razor just as Arna and Sera ran toward them.

“Mum!”

“Mum, why?!”

She gently shushed them. “It’s alright.”

“But what’s wrong?” Arna asked.

Sera’s wide eyes took in all the hair scattered on the ground.

Eseca took a brush of horse hair and removed as much of her hair from her neck and her linen tunic as possible.

While he cleaned up, she answered, “Please sit down and I’ll tell you.”

Sera and Arna quickly sat.

“Thank you. And thank you, Eseca,” she said as he wiped her neck with a wet cloth and began cleaning his razor.

He hummed.

Arna stared at the left side of her neck. He breathed, “Wow, I can really see your stain now.”

Ress smiled. Without thinking she rubbed her neck where she had had a skull and spear embedded into her skin with charcoal.

She lowered her hand to her lap with a deep breath. “Thank you, all of you, for being so worried about me, but I want to reassure you that there is nothing wrong. I….” She looked down at her hands and at the long locks of her hair on her ground. The wind took a few strands away with it.

“You know I’ve been hurting and not just from my illness. Being a warrior was important to me. Not being able to do that, to protect you and my family, everyone… it’s been hard.”

All three reached out to hold her hands. Missing her chance, Romee scooched closer and rested her hand on her forearm.

Ress squeezed Arna and Sera’s hands and gently bumped her forehead against Romee’s.

“You know I was sent back south because I couldn’t fight anymore.” A crease appeared between her brows. “At any moment I could be sick and then I wouldn’t be able to fight with the others or protect them in battle.”

“It’s dumb,” Romee said.

Ress shook her head. “It’s not, hun. It’s fair. I would be horrified if we were attacked and I couldn’t fight back.

“Which is why I’ve cut my hair. It’s my shame that I can’t protect you.”

Romee scowled, tears at the corners of her eyes. Sera whined. She snuck in under Ress’ arm and wrapped her arms around her. Arna briefly hugged her around her neck.

“But I don’t think you had to cut your hair,” Arna said. He paused and looked over her much shorter hair again. He asked, “Why now?”

Ress took her arm from around Sera and tipped Arna’s head to kiss the top of it. “Because I now know what I’m going to do.”

She leaned back to address them all. “I’m going to leave for a while.” Their eyes widened, and she continued, “Roe’naco gave me an idea. I saw how capable he was on his own and I even watched as him spar with someone after I woke up. I… I want to be like that, and the only way I see how is by learning like he did.” She shook her head and swallowed. “I need to grow somewhere else, outside of the tribe where I won’t be looked down on for continuing down this path.”

They protested. They hugged her tight and kissed her, and eventually she wrapped her arms around all three.

“You don’t have to leave! You could help me with farming!” Arna cried.

“Or help with the horses!” Romee said as she nudged her shoulder.

Sera grasped at her tunic. “Please mum!”

Tears crawled down her cheeks. She shook her head. “I can’t protect anyone here. It’s… I can’t imagine myself doing anything else.” She smiled with brittle humour. “Sorry, Eseca.”

He shook his head from where he stood, dumping the water from the bowls. “You’ve nothing to be sorry for.”

She turned from him and smiled. She lovingly brushed a few loose strands away from Sera’s face.

“Don’t worry. I’ll visit when I can, I promise.”

Arna sniffed and rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. “Maybe you could protect the south when you come back.”

She nodded. “Maybe.” She lifted Romee’s chin. “You all have your family and your mentors. Everyone will help you, so be good.” Her lips curled. “I don’t want to come back and find out Eseca had to cut your hair as well.”

They quietly laughed.

Eseca grunted. He nodded at Romee, “That goes twice for you.”

She stuck her tongue out but her heart wasn’t in it.

“I’ll miss you,” she said.

“Me too,” Sera said. She rubbed her face against Ress’ shoulder.

“Don’t be gone too long, okay?” Arna worried.

“I won’t.” Ress lowered her head and nuzzled his cheek. She did the same with Sera and then Romee.

“When… when will you go?” Romee asked.

“Very soon. Will you see me off, like before?”

They nodded.

She looked up. “I’ll see you again, Eseca.”

He nodded. He said, “I’ll see you again, Ress.”

Arna, Romee, and Sera wiped their eyes and stood with her. She walked with them to their family home where Saceera was just leaving.

She stopped short and stared at Ress’ short hair and wavy bangs in shock.

Ress smiled as they walked by. “Ask Inaee or Eseca again it. I’ll be leaving soon.”

Inside the house was largely quiet. The fire crackled and spat with warmth. Without it she would need to dress warm. Arna and Romee packed her winter clothes, including her wool and fur cloak and boots. Sera gathered other necessities like her comb, soap, some blood cloths, and her spear.

Ress pulled her long-sleeve wool tunic over top. Next the leather chest piece. Vambraces went over her arms and she tucked her fingerless gloves in with her other clothes for now.

She straightened and turned to watch as they worked, smiling with a mixture of pride and sadness. Her gaze drifted from them toward a lovingly folded tunic by her bed. A yellowed skull sat perched on top. After a pause, she turned and kneeled in front of it. She pressed a kiss to her fingertips and touched them to the top of the skull.

“I will see you again, Sorsee,” she whispered.

She sat for a while, recalling fond memories with a smile as she listened to the rummaging through the house. Soon the noises turned quiet and she rose.

She shouldered her bag they had perfectly packed and grabbed her spear. She gestured for them to follow.

“What food do you think I should bring?” she asked with a light voice.

“Mmm… meat,” Sera suggested.

“Berries,” Romee said.

Arna said, “Not too much though, or it’ll weigh you down.”

“Those are good ideas,” Ress said. “Let’s talk to Ceuan and see if her hunters have caught anything. If they have nothing to spare then we’ll go to Saarea and Sarma.”

Arna nodded next to her, changing course to head toward the hunters’ house. “Saarea said Sarma’s field is growing as well as her’s this year.”

“Good.”

They gathered attention as they went from one place to the next. People were distracted by Ress’ hair and they bumped into each other. Some looked away while others stared. Whispers began but Ress kept her back straight and her children raised their chins. The people they spoke to were surprised as well, and Ress summarized her reasoning for them. They were sad to see her go but they happily gave her food for the beginning of her travels.

By the time they were finished the moon had disappeared from the sky. As they neared the outskirts of the tribe their footsteps slowed. A warm breeze blew from the south.

“Are you sure you don’t want a horse?” Romee asked when they came to a stop.

Ress turned to her and smiled. “I’m sure. Our people need them more than I do.”

Romee sighed. Her eyes travelled over her, unsure, but she nodded. “Okay.”

Ress put her bag and spear down and wrapped her arms around her for a long hug.

She put a hand on her shoulder. “Be wild, but be safe.” She kissed her forehead.

She hugged Arna. “I’ll miss the food you help grow.”

He sniffled. “You’ll have the best veggies when you get back.”

She chuckled. She rubbed his back and kissed his nose. “I can’t wait.”

She moved on to Sera, who jumped up and wrapped her arms around her neck. Ress easily caught her and held her up.

She turned her head and whispered in her ear, “I… I don’t know if I want to make clothes anymore.”

“No?”

Sera hummed.

She rubbed her back, smoothing the fabric of her tunic. “What will you do?”

“’m not sure yet. Maybe something with animals. Like Romee.”

“Eh?” Romee asked, leaning in to better hear. “Did you say my name?”

Ress smiled at Sera. “Then I can’t wait to see how well you take care of the animals. And even if it isn’t animals, I can’t wait to see what you do.”

“Miss you,” Sera said.

Ress lowered her to her feet. “I’ll miss you too. I’ll miss all of you. Don’t cause our family too much trouble.”

Romee wrinkled her nose. “What about Grandma Saceera and Uncle Arcsen? And Aunt Seia.”

Ress sighed wryly and put a hand on her hip. “Remember, use your judgement. Respect your elders until you think what they’re doing is dangerous or hurtful. Ask someone else if you’re unsure.”

Romee nodded sharply. “Okay. You too, mum.”

Ress smirked. “I will.”

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and released it. She picked up her bag and her spear and turned to look at the three of them, committing to memory their hair, their beautiful eyes, their bright smiles.

She lifted her spear with a smile. “I will see you again.”

They repeated back to her, “I will see you again.”

After a moment she lowered her arm and turned away. Her footsteps were quiet in the growing darkness. Her boots padded on the dirt of the worn path.

She quietly sighed and shifted her bag.

Voices suddenly called out. Surprised, she looked over her shoulder.

Her children, Inaee, and friends waved. Romee jumped and yelled goodbye again.

Ress laughed and waved her spear in the air.

Up into the starry sky, carried by the winds her voice rang out, “I will see you again!”

Warning: Blood. Loss of limb.

Synopsis: Tuah is in training to be a druid-bard. She beats her drum loud and wild without care. She follows the teachings of the druids, but when spirit attacks her friend and it shakes her beliefs and she begins to question everything they've taught her.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ────── · 。ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Tuah banged the drum hard to cheer on Feorh as he danced. His lankly form spun and twirled, and he nearly kicked Awwt in the head.

Awwt’s smile fell. “Hey, watch it!”

Feorh awkwardly apologized before returning to his dance.

Tuah cackled and sped up the tempo. Her long brown hair waved about as she moved. She thumped the tipper across the tight skin of the drum, feeling the excited rumble reverberate through her chest. Quicker and quicker she went until no one could keep up. Their druid-bard teacher, NaTeo, lowered her bone flute and shook her head with a rueful smirk. Tuah just grinned in return and then wrapped it up before coming to a sudden stop.

Feorh laughed breathlessly and clapped his hands. Some of their group appreciated Tuah’s musical take-over, but the rest shook their heads and lowered their instruments. With a grin Tuah simply brushed her wavy hair off her shoulder.

NaTeo rose to her feet. She stretched high with her bone flute in one hand.

She said, “Now off you go. I believe you have Seey-seey next.”

One of the students groaned. “Please stop calling him that. I beg you.”

NaTeo smiled, not bothered by their groans as she watched them pack. Another student grabbed a stick and carefully lit it before the others could put out the campfire completely.

Tuah groaned loud. “I don’t want to go. I hate history.”

Awwt wrinkled his nose. “You hate everything.”

“Shut up, fish-licker. I do not.”

NaTeo lightly clicked her tongue. She didn’t look up as she tucked her flute into her bag. “None of that.”

At the same time Awwt’s teeth ground together. His fists bunched as he stepped over his stringed instrument and toward Tuah.

Tuah’s eyes lit up with a grin. She put her drum aside and shot to her feet.

Feorh rushed toward them, hands up and shaking. He stood taller than Awwt but didn’t have his newly broad shoulders.

“Nn-now let’s not start this again. I’m sure…” Feorh took an unsure breath, “I’m sure Tuah didn’t mean it.”

Tuah snorted. “That’s right.” She waved her hands by her face and sneered at him. “Because I meant fish-kisser! Muwah-muwah!”

Awwt rushed around Feorh and Tuah ran away with a cackle. She ducked and danced around the trees, bushes, and rocks—keeping clear of his snatching hands. Once, she missed sight of a root and stumbled but quickly got back up with a laugh.

“Stay away from me with those fishy fingers! Stick to poetry instead of music!”

Awwt growled and tried to keep up with her.

She could just make out Feorh calling her name over the rustling of their movements through the forest.

“Forget it, Feorh,” one of the other students said as they walked by. “You know it’s no use once she’s started.”

He sighed. “Yeah.”

She panted a laugh. A hand reached out of the dark. She inhaled, spun and weaved through the bushes until she had gained more distance between her and Awwt.

Once the students had gone the small area turned quiet. Feorh had picked up his pack, which carried little as his instrument was his voice, hands, and feet.

NaTeo stood next to him. A second later a loud, shrill whistle cut through the forest. Birds flew into the moon-lit sky. Other animals including Tuah and Awwt stopped in their tracks.

NaTeo shouted, “That’s enough! Come back now!”

Tuah panted. She swallowed and the corners of her mouth curled upward as she listened. She waited until she could hear the rustling sound of branches being gently pushed aside. She shifted her head up, down, and to the sides until she could see Awwt through the gaps in the foliage. He walked up the exposed, swooping rock they had held their bard lessons on, his fists slowly loosening.

She stepped out and followed him up. She brushed her hair and pulled away a leaf, which fell to the ground. She smiled, bright and sharp with the knowledge of her victory.

NaTeo looked at them both without much heat. “You know I’ll have to tell Soen about this.”

Awwt glanced at her as he dusted off the sleeves of his tunic. He muttered, “Since when do you care?”

NaTeo smiled politely. “Since you’re under my care until you reach your next teacher.”

Tuah grinned. Awwt glared at her but her grin didn’t falter. She placed her hands on her hips and said proudly, “I think you should cut your best student some slack.”

Surprise took over Awwt’s expression. He looked worriedly at NaTeo.

Tuah chuckled.

NaTeo tapped her chin as she began walking away. “What for? Feorh has done nothing wrong.”

Feorh’s eyebrows shot upward as he followed her. NaTeo playfully smiled at him.

Tuah laughed. “Okay, okay. Go ahead, tell Soen. Maybe this time she’ll have remembered that Rhinwl song.”

Awwt shook his head. He packed up his instrument and left, his feet quickly taking him down the hill.

Tuah snickered. She crouched, carefully wrapping up her drum and tipper before putting them in her pack. She slung her it across her shoulders and followed them.

As she descended the hill her feet thumped down with each step. She began humming a tune, matching it to the beat of her footsteps. The wind through the trees added its sounds to the melody.

Along the narrow path her woollen skirt brushed the low branches of young, prickly evergreens. The needles didn’t catch entirely but instead roughened the new wool. Her leather shoes crunched on some fallen twigs and she incorporated the sound into her impromptu song, mimicking it with a click at the back of her throat.

Her footsteps followed the worn path by memory. It veered off to the right once but her feet took her to the left. Soon enough the trees and bush opened to the lake. In the distance the dark water touched the night sky and the moon and stars glittered on its calm surface.

A cool breeze came clean across the lake. It brushed across the trees and pulled at the edge of her skirt. Tuah shivered. She scowled at the cold before returning to her song. She added words and stamped her feet to the beat as she walked.

Feorh scream cut through the air, ending the song.

She inhaled and held her breath.

He screamed again. NaTeo shouted with anger and anxiety, something Tuah had never heard her do before.

Her heart thudded against her chest. She hesitated. Her feet shifted one way and but her head turned another.

Feorh screamed again, loud and shrill and she took off after him.

The shore turned to sand, rocks again, then veered into the forest to avoid a short rocky cliff before returning to a pebble beach.

Her feet dug in and she froze under the cover of the trees. She stared, numb. The moon illuminated the churning water, the crest of each wave, and the droplets as they were tossed into the air to land on the slimy skin of a ferocious spirit.

The splashing water hid much of the body. A rock sailed through the air and hit an eye. The spirit shrieked and thrashed, and a long, thick snake-like body rose up. The water ran off its smooth skin in tiny rivers. Rows of sharp teeth caught the light and Tuah could just make out dark patches of dripping blood. The circular maw slowly pulsed open and closed while the countless red, glowing eyes around it glared down at Feorh and NaTeo. One of them blinked away the pain before glaring like the others.

“Tuah! Tuah!”

Tuah gasped.

NaTeo had turned halfway to her. She was holding onto Feorh’s shoulders and pulling him from the waves. Her red hair was soaked and strands were sticking to her face. Her tone of voice, fearful yet determined, turned Tuah’s gut.

NaTeo shouted, “Go get-!”

The spirit’s body crashed into the water. Feorh shouted and NaTeo spun just in time for the force of the water to knock her backward, her head hitting the rocky beach. Feorh coughed and sputtered.

Tuah startled. The water thrashed. There was a flash of teeth and Feorh screamed again. She gasped. Hands spread in panic, she glanced around before picking up a rock and blindly throwing it. She threw another and another until the spirit released Feorh and turned its angry glare on her.

She sucked through her teeth and stepped back.

But instead of advancing, the spirit slithered backward. A crease formed between her brows.

“Tuah!” Feorh’s pained voice came. “Look out….”

She barely had time to glance at him before the water rushed up over him, NaTeo, and the beach. The spirit surged and she gasped, falling back just before the circle of teeth could snap around her.

She panted. Now that the spirit was closer she could easily see the shiny, sharp and yellowed teeth. The dark blue lips around them quivered and briefly changed into artistic swirls. The teeth opened, something inside moved, and they snapped closed again. The body wriggled across the rocks toward her. Her eyes widened and she scrambled back just before it snapped its teeth shut a third time.

A voice from somewhere to the side cut through her terror. She squinted—Awwt was dragging NaTeo up the beach and into the forest. Tuah shifted back again to avoid the snapping teeth and she saw him return to retrieve Feorh. He nodded at her. Her brows furrowed but the spirit stole her attention.

It thrashed its tail, churning up the waters. Again it moved forward across the rough beach. Tuah’s teeth ground together and tears pricked at her eyes. She inhaled and kicked at the closed teeth with her heel. Hot air blew out from the spaces in-between the teeth, and she grunted and kicked again. She shifted and kicked at the lips and the spirit flinched back.

She got to her feet and kicked the lips again. The spirit hissed. It snapped but couldn’t get more momentum as it entirely on the pebbled beach now. Tuah huffed and kicked the teeth again, earning her a stubbed toe. She cried out and hopped on her other foot until the pain was bearable. Then she kicked the spirit again.

The spirit squealed but instead of pursuing her it shifted and thrashed backward, retreating into the water. Terrified but confident, Tuah ran forward and kicked it a few more times before backing away.

Her panting had a whimpering edge to it. She looked toward the others. Feorh hissed. He cried out and tears ran down his cheeks as Awwt tried to sling him over his shoulders without further hurting him. Tuah hiccuped as dark blood pulsed from Feorh’s severed leg.

The sound of sloshing water cooled her head. She snapped around and watched as the spirit disappeared under the surface. A short fin broke through the water and the tail whipped around and the spirit readied to strike again.

She quickly backed away, into the forest to Awwt and Feorh.

“Grab NaTeo,” Awwt said quickly.

She nodded. She turned but a flash of light reflecting off the lake caught her eye.

Something else had risen. The fuzzy dark spot on the lake was big, probably bigger than the spirit attacking them. She squinted, and though she still couldn’t see its eyes she saw it move, saw its body briefly shift into lazy swirls and wedges. She felt its eyes looking at them.

She prayed. She raised her hands and shouted and screamed. Awwt looked and raised his voice too, even as he stepped back with Feorh over his shoulders.

The spirit didn’t move.

Tuah’s brow wrinkled. She shouted louder. Her heart beat faster as the water splashed near shore.

“Help!! Please, HELP US!” Her breath quickened. She waved her arms around but still the far away spirit didn’t move.

Then it turned its head and sank beneath the surface.

Her cries died in her throat. Her arms slowly lowered and she stared at the horizon in shock. She felt like she’d been slapped across the face.

The other spirit surged out of the water and across the beach. She shouted and jumped back before it could take one of her limbs like it had taken Feorh’s.

She dashed deeper into the forest. Awwt had paused where he’d left NaTeo, who was just beginning to wake up. Hot tears stung her eyes and Tuah ignored the screeching of the spirit somewhere on the other side of the trees.

NaTeo’s eyes blearily opened. Without a word, Tuah grabbed her arm and helped her to her feet. The leaves on the trees shook as the spirit hissed and squealed in frustration.

Tuah threw a final glare at it over her shoulder as they left.

Once the sounds of the spirit were far behind them, she muttered to herself, “I don’t understand.”

NaTeo groaned and pressed a finger to a spot on her head. They came away with the barest hint of blood. “What...?”

Tuah glanced at her. “The spirit. I don’t get it.”

Her teacher shrugged. “Spirits can become angry and lash out, just like us. I thought Hawiort would have taught you that by now.”

She briefly thought of the druid-priest teacher. “He did, but that’s not what I meant. Why didn’t the other spirit help us?”

NaTeo hissed as she touched the injured spot again, making a mess of her hair in the process. “The other spirit?”

Tuah nodded. “There was another one, farther out on the water. It just stared at us and then left. Who does that? Why wouldn’t it help?” Her voice grew louder, trembling in anger and fear.

NaTeo didn’t answer right away. Her gaze watched the ground, and then the way ahead.

Finally, she repeated, “They’re like us. Sometimes people can’t be bothered.”

She straightened. She wobbled and reached out, using Tuah’s shoulder to keep her steady as they continued walking.

Tuah ducked the end of a branch and frowned. “But they’re spirits. They’re our friends. They’re supposed to help us.”

NaTeo suddenly looked at her for a long moment. She shook her head. “No. They are like humans,” she stressed. “Some people are willing to help strangers, others aren’t. Some are willing to take part in a fight, others aren’t. That spirit owed us nothing.” She finished with a firm tone in her voice before looking away.

After a few steps she let go of Tuah’s shoulder.

Tuah scowled. She wiped her tears and sniffed loudly.

Not far ahead of them, Feorh looked at her with heavy eyes from where Awwt had lifted him across his shoulders. His face was as pale as the moon from blood loss, but something flickered in his gaze.

She tried to smile, to reassure him that he’d be okay, but anger bubbled and burned in her chest.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ────── · 。ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

She glared at the great fire in the gathering place. There the flames stole some of the stars’ light from her eyes, sealing her away from the world. She delved deep into her thoughts, deep enough she was unable to hear the music spitting the from crackling fire.

“Here.”

She gasped and jumped, nearly hitting the metal plate and the hand holding it. The hands pulled back in surprise.

Awwt sighed and offered the food again. “Here, before it gets cold.”

Tuah hummed low and reluctantly took the plate. The smell made her stomach growl but she didn’t indulge. Tendrils of steam rose from the gently browned rabbit meat. Some sort of small and layered green vegetables had been cut and served next to it, along with chopped, softened carrots.

“There’s mead inside, and a few druids brought cider with them from the mainland,” Awwt said as he sat down on the grass a seat away from her.

Tuah glanced over her shoulder. Blurry torches flickered on either side of a wide entrance, which sat in a rough, nearly shear cliff face. If goats were on the island they would have enjoyed the thin ledges of greenery growing here and there. A few smaller holes dotted the rocks to allow air in, but otherwise it was undisturbed on the outside. Inside, however, contained gentle ramps and cozy rooms.

Sometime before the death of the sun, before the Rela had disappeared, a Rela druid-magician named Setri had created their home. As the world grew colder Setri had asked gods and spirits for help. Pleaded to them to carve a home out of the cliff. And in return he offered them his service for the rest of his life.

Tuah only remembered the history lesson because it was the first one taught to new students who were in awe of the spectacle.

She turned away, lips pressed together with a wrinkle on her nose.

Awwt glanced up. “You should probably eat and then get some sleep. They said Feorh will be fine.”

She snorted. “Fine? He’s missing a leg.”

“It could have been worse.”

“It could have been better,” she shot back.

Awwt held a piece of the strange green vegetable, which he placed back on the metal plate with a rough, but not uncaring sigh.

“It could have. But it didn’t. Let it be now.”

She scowled. “Why should I?”

He frowned. “Because there’s nothing you can do.”

“Nothing-?! Yeah, nothing is right. I couldn’t do anything at all.” Her voice cracked and her hands trembled. “I couldn’t do anything but at least I tried. That spirit could have helped us but it didn’t.”

Awwt scowled. “Tuah, don’t say that.”

“Why not!”

“Because people could hear you. Spirits could hear you.”

Her fingers clenched the metal of the plate. It refused to bend and crumple as satisfyingly as wicker.

When she didn’t answer, Awwt put his plate down on the grass.

His voice tightened. “I know. I wish that spirit had helped us too. But NaTeo’s right-”

“That’s such-!! Argh!” She firmly put her plate in front of her on the ground, nearly knocking the food off it. “I can’t believe that anyone would ever do the same thing like that spirit did. I don’t care what she said.”

Awwt face pinched again. His head tilted annoyingly. “You wouldn’t leave someone from your own tribe if they were in trouble?”

She glared at him. “No,” she snapped, “I wouldn’t. I hate them but I wouldn’t do that. See?”

He picked up the green vegetable he had been about to eat and looked at it. “Even if you feel that way, I’m sure there’s someone there who would leave another person for dead.”

“No one would.”

His eyes flashed to hers. “Even a Suuroo?”

“Tch,” she immediately reacted. However, after a pause her eyes turned to the fire. Her nose twitched and her arms slowly crossed in front of her.

“I…” she bite out. “I… don’t know. But that doesn’t mean that everyone is like that!” she quickly added.

“Exactly.” He popped the food in his mouth.

She stared. After a pause her teeth ground together, but she didn’t say anything in return. She huffed and glared down at her quickly cooling plate.

“Who eats off metal plates anyway,” she grumbled. Her head moodily ducked between her shoulders.

Awwt shook his head at her sulking. He picked up his plate and returned to eating. His tone had calmed. “They’re from Reygo.”

“’Course.”

“Do you have a thing against all tribes?”

“Shouldn’t you have a thing against me, Wrysal?” she shot back.

“No,” he answered simply as he chewed. He swallowed and said, “I don’t care about their petty fighting.”

She raised her hands. “Oooo. Good for you.” A harsh smirk tugged the corner of her mouth. “Fishy.”

He scowled and she snorted in humour as he took her bait. “Idiot.”

“Ha! fish-licker.”

“Stop. Please.”

She snorted and giggled. She opened her mouth but suddenly felt tired. She tentatively looked at the food, her finger pushing the pieces around. She ate the rest of the rabbit and carrots quickly, but eyed the green vegetables. She poked one.

“It’s from EreTaam.”

She glanced at Awwt. He had already finished his plate, including the suspicious vegetables.

“They’re sprouts,” he further explained.

Her nose wrinkled.

He sagged. “Just try it.”

She huffed. She picked one up and looked it over in her fingers. She sniffed it. Finally she took a bite but a few layers of green slipped off. Her tongue played with the thin layers until she spat them out.

“Pah! I hate it.” She chucked it in the fire and it ate them happily. A few flames briefly turned into glowing spirals before merging again with the greater fire.

Awwt rolled his eyes at her.

“Want it?” She held out her plate with the rest of the sprouts.

He sighed but accepted the offering. “You had better stick with the bard strain, because your manners would be terrible for anything else.”

“Ha!” She grinned. “I don’t want to be anything else. What about you? You had better keep out of the bard strain because those fishy fingers ain’t getting you anywhere.”

He quietly grumbled, “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Her grin brightened. “But really: what are you going to do?”

She impatiently watched as he ate a few of the EreTaam vegetables.

He mused, “I was thinking about advisor, or history keeper.”

She snorted. “That makes sense. Better have you there than as a bard or poet, or listening to the spirits as a priest.”

He gave her a disapproving look but she turned away. Her smirk faded as she watched the flames.

Her chest felt heavy and tired as the world slowly shrunk away again. Warmth spread far around the fire and kept the chill-bumps from her skin. It crackled and spat into the starry sky.

She glanced at movement and watched as Awwt stood up with their empty plates. When he didn’t immediately walk away she raised a brow.

He sighed. “Just… get some sleep. The teachers said we can take as much time as we need before we get back to lessons,” he reminded her.

“Right.” She nodded and looked away.

As he left he tossed over his shoulder, “I’ll see you again.”

“See you,” she mumbled.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ────── · 。ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

“Tuah?”

“Hm?” She didn’t look away from NaTeo’s group. NaTeo was dramatically sprouting a lengthy poem about some Reygo warrior doing who knows what while their history teacher Wigseey seemed to be enthralled by her.

Tuah’s focus flickered to the slightly blurred sight of everyone’s bags filled with their instruments. Her fingers didn’t twitch. The fire didn’t roar and spit music. The cooling wind didn’t huff or whistle a tune.

Like a cave, her heart felt heavy, and dark, and hollow.

“Are you alright?” Feorh asked tentatively. “Aren’t you going to join the group? It’s been a while….”

She glanced at him. His leg had been removed and he was using a crutch. Her lips twisted as she looked away. Now was fine, but once the snow flew he would have a difficult time of traversing. He would have to stay on Ruia. Or be a chief’s permanent bard somewhere.

“I don’t feel like it.” She barely caught the hitch of his breath. “What about you?”

He shifted with a grunt. She glanced, and then looked again as he began lowering himself to the ground to sit next to her. She jumped and reached out to help him down.

“Sorry. I should have stood up to help you.”

“It’s okay.” He smiled. Then it faded in thought. He tapped the wooden crutch where it lay across his knee.

“I… I’m not sure if I want to be a bard anymore.” He looked down. “Maybe. But I don’t know.”

Her hearth clenched. “Just because I’m not playing anymore doesn’t mean you have to stop.”

“I know. I just… wait. Are you really never gonna play again?” He turned to her with wide eyes.

She looked away. “I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I just don’t feel the music anymore.”

Feorh paused. His fingers played again with the crutch.

Tuah looked up. His brow had furrowed and he was biting his lip. He looked down at his hands in thought.

Quietly, he asked, “Is it because of me… or is it because….” He glanced around and then looked at her. He lowered his voice further. “Or is it because of the spirits?”

Her brows rose. She looked over his face and then glanced toward the fuzzy figure she guessed was Awwt. He was a part of the group surrounding NaTeo and Wigseey. No one looked at her and Feorh.

Her mouth tightened and she looked at Feorh. “I hate them. I hate that they just let you get hurt. I hate that they hurt you.”

He nodded. “I get it.”

“You do?” she asked, pleasantly surprised.

He nodded again with enthusiasm. “I heard you when Awwt was carrying me. I’m frustrated too. I….” His voice cracked a little. “When I was little one of my mums was playing in the snow with us. I had four mums. Only one was a birth-mother,” he explained.

Tuah nodded. Some people didn’t want to bring children into the world, but they did want to take care of them.

He continued, “This mum, she didn’t have any of us, but she protected us the most. We were… we were out looking for berries when an elk ran into us.” Tears were lined the lower rim of his eyes and Tuah wiped at them.

He laughed with a broken voice. “You’re just like my mum. She would have wiped my eyes like that too.”

A corner of Tuah’s mouth twitched upward.

Feorh swallowed. “The elk’s eyes were wild. She had blue swirls all over her. We didn’t know what was wrong with the elk then, but since coming here I’ve been thinking about it again, and I think she was fighting off an unwanted spirit.”

Tuah clenched her teeth. “And we’re supposed to be respectful of them??”

Feorh nodded, agreeing with her frustration. He sniffed and wiped his face on his cloak. “Exactly. …Tuah? Would you come with me somewhere? During the new moon?”

She frowned at the change in topic. “What?”

He laughed a little. “I promise it’s about the spirits. I think you’ll like it.”

She raised a brow. “You know I hate when people don’t get to the point.”

His head ducked. “Oh, yeah. Um… well, there are people, like us. People who question the spirits too.” His eyes sparkled. “There are more of us, Tuah.”

Her mouth fell open. She looked around, over the bard group, another group learning from a druid-priest, and at passing adult druids and other people who had been invited to live on the island. Some she couldn’t tell if they were looking at her and Feorh, but at least their heads were turned away.

“Here? On Ruia?”

His eyes shone brightly. “Yes. I promise, you’re not alone. There’s not a lot, but we’re here.”

Tuah breathed. She looked around again, squinting at the people around them. Her mind raced at the possibility of others who agreed with her. Who felt like she did about the spirits. Who knew what is was like to feel betrayed by what she’d been taught.

The fire spat three quick notes.

She grinned at her friend. “Where do we meet them?”

Warning: some blood, fighting, dogs fighting people (no animals are harmed)

(please let me know if any other warnings should be included)

Synopsis: Young Cas'cerra is visiting another tribe with his aunt and the dogs when he comes upon a girl in trouble(Madga). After fighting off her assailants he feels a connection with her and can't help but see that she's safe.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ────── · 。ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Su’bee adjusted her delicate paw, accidentally shifting Cas’ wool hat down over his face. He sputtered and laughed. He tugged his arm free from under the puppies—Co’rae and O’a—and adjusted his hat to cover his ears. O’a rolled onto her other side on top of his shoulder, and as a result Co’rae snuggled closer to O’a.

Cas smiled, raising his head as best he could from the centre of the dog pile.

He paused. He went through the names of each one and fell short. He squirmed, freeing his shoulders. The sleepy pups barely protested. On the ground they curled up to each other, seeking warm again. Az’ree raised his slim black and white head from Cas’ chest. He stared at Cas with half-lidded brown eyes.

Cas raised his brows and looked around. He made a little inquisitive noise at the back of his throat.

Az’ree huffed and turned his long snout toward the right side of the large roundhouse. Then he shifted and lowered his fuzzy head next to one of the pups. Cas rubbed his back in thanks before freeing his hips and legs.

He carefully rose to his feet and stepped over a thinned section of the pile. Oi’ua raised her great head. He smiled and ran his hand over the smooth fur between her floppy ears. The rest of her was white, brown, and fluffier than Az’ree. Comforted, she lowered her head but didn’t close her dark eyes.

He turned away and searched the crowd. Word of visitors from Coo’noam had attracted many curious eyes and ears. Some Reygo people were still arriving, allowing in a bit of cold, crisp air each time they entered.

Cas walked around the collection of mostly adults and children. He smiled whenever a set of eyes met his. Some were curious. Most ignored him. One father warily stepped to the side a little to keep his leg between his son and Cas. Cas still smiled at them, barely interested or hurt as his gaze returned to the ground.

“Crae?” he whispered. Voices murmured around him. Somewhere toward the centre of the house he could hear his aunt and someone speaking. Fires crackled and feet quietly shifted. “Crae? Crae’caw?”

He made a soft clicking noise with his tongue. A skirt whirled and he looked up. An elderly woman stared at him, affronted at the noises he was making. He straightened and smiled again. He rounded the elder’s shoulder with a sniff but the woman tensed and spun to face him.

He respectfully stepped back and asked, “Have you seen an elder with brown fur and a white snout?”

The woman blinked. Her frown deepened and in a gruff voice she said, “Did no one ever teach you to introduce yourself before speaking? And what do you mean by ‘snout’?”

His eyes lit up. “Oh! I’m sorry. I’m Cas’cerra, son of Nia’vo.”

The elder ran her eyes over him. “Lazy dog,” she grumbled as she turned away.

When the woman didn’t speak again Cas continued his search. He weaved through the crowd, not noticing the occasional glance his way. Eventually he spotted a dark brown tail laying on the ground. It was a little too close to someone’s foot for his liking. He squeezed through the crowd until he could crouch next to the dog it was attached to.

He went to his knees and put a hand on her back. Crae’caw glanced at him. Her long tail thumped once before curling in closer to her body.

He gently reminded her, “You’re supposed to be with us, Crae.”

Her tail thumped again. She lowered her head and returned to watching her favourite human speak.

Cas ran his hand through Crae’caw’s fur as he looked up. His aunt Ns’ere stood between two others of their tribe. Slim and freckled face, Aer’eece stood a step back, his bag full of healing items. As’een also kept back but held her spear in a firm grip. Her thick nose wrinkled as she sniffed, likely not paying much attention to the words of the conversation. The warrior dogs See’nie and Oc’wa stood calm and alert next to them, not cowed or bothered by a third dog. Sensing the tension in the air, the dog’s ears were slicked back and the fur on her haunches had risen. She was ready to protect the Reygo chief at any moment.

Chief Greggree looked down at the three people kneeling between him and Ns’ere. He crossed his arms. They were as thick as a dog’s head and stained with black artistic images of a hammer, sparks, and the vague shape of a strong woman. The ends of his long forked beard and moustache had been tucked into his belt.

Ns’ere didn’t seem bothered by the mountain of a man. She too was stained but by healing marks, which were currently covered by her wool skirt and layers of tunics.

Greggree looked up. “I see,” he said.

Ns’ere smiled. “Good. I would hate to lose friends over something this silly.”

One of the men on the ground sputtered. “Silly?!” His eyes shot up. “Chief Greggree, that- that dog killed one of my fighters! Our fighters. I don’t see how it matters if-”

Greggree’s eyes, as blue as what Cas imagined the sky had once been, silenced the man with a hard glare. The man obediently lowered his gaze with a scowl.

Greggree’s eyes returned to Cas’ aunt. His hand rose up and thoughtfully stroked his moustache, pulling a few curly strands free of the belt as he did. Ns’ere simply waited with a polite smile, although Cas could recognize a sharpness in her gaze like that of a dog ready for a game of chase. He shook his head with a smile as he scratched just behind Crae’caw’s ear.

The fire at the centre of the great roundhouse crackled and gently hummed. A thin veil of smoke drifted through the air but most of it rose to the ceiling and out through a hole. Some mutterings went with it but most were quiet, listening for the chief’s response.

Greggree glanced over his shoulder to another of the Coo’noam. Although she was dressed more like one of the Reygo, complete with a sword on her hip, she stood as relaxed as Cas, Ns’ere, and the others. She raised an disinterested, scarred brow.

Greggree turned back to Cas’ aunt and nodded to himself.

He lowered his head but kept his arms crossed. In a deep voice, he said, “Some people don’t understand your way of doing thing’s, dogs. Forgive them. If you need recompense then I’ll gladly take it on myself.”

The three accused rose on their knees.

“What?!”

“Chief, no!”

“Shut up,” he snapped roughly. They stopped but didn’t look happy about it.

He went on, “We already have Suuroo and Wrysal breathing down our necks—I refuse to add Coo’noam to that count. Or are you interested in taking on an entire tribe of the likes of her?” He thumbed over his shoulder. The Coo’noam warrior didn’t blink.

The three shifted uncomfortably.

“The… entire tribe?” one of them asked in disbelief and awe.

More whispers spread through the crowd. Cas could hear mentions of how someone had heard from so-and-so that the Coo’noam were terrifying fighters. More pushed back, bolstering the common belief that his tribe were lazy. Cas only smiled at the lie.

A man stepped forward out of the crowd. He scowled. “Respectfully, Chief Greggree, are we really going to let them walk away?”

A woman next to him nodded. Her eyes were red-rimmed. “We should return what they’ve given!”

A sizeable number agreed with her. Cas glanced toward the area where he had left the dogs. He hoped they were okay.

Greggree growled deep in his throat. Cas’ head snapped around to look at him.

“Listen to me,” he said in his booming voice and his tribe quieted. He again gestured to the Coo’noam warrior behind him. “Dogs like Roo’oo don’t care about tribal boarders, just like druids, and as far as her own tribe is concerned she’s one of us. Which means in this case the dog that killed Agyu was from EreTaam. Going to Coo’noam to seek revenge was a stupid decision,” he finished bluntly.

“Which brings about a good question,” his wife said. Her skin was as pale as the snow, and her glare just as cold. She was a tall as her husband and as thick in her belly. Her great green dress presented her as a wall that could not be ignored. “What were you doing so close to EreTaam in the first place?”

Greggree nodded. The torc of twisted iron around his thick throat glinted dull sparks in the firelight.

The men and woman swallowed. They glanced at each other again before lowering their eyes.

“We were… we were…,” the woman stuttered.

Greggree remained silent, waiting for an answer.

“We were testing their boarders,” she finished in a rush.

“Why?” Greggree demanded.

One of the men said, “I overheard an EreTaam trader talk about her disgust of the Gwae and-”

“And so you decided to act without your chief’s permission?” Greggree’s wife said.

“Ye… yes.” The man lowered his head. “I’m sorry.”

“While we are on friendlier terms with the Gwae it wouldn’t do to attack EreTaam,” she said. Her voice was as loud as her husband’s. “We still have some trade with them, after all.”

Greggree nodded. “They know their forests—any forest—better than we do. There’s no sense in starting a war against them.” He glared over the top of his moustache at the three on the ground.

He looked away and grumbled something quietly to himself.

Then he turned to Ns’ere. “What do you want in return for the attack on your tribe?”

Ns’ere waved a pale hand and laughed. “Oh it was hardly an attack. They didn’t do much.” The three on the ground bristled but wisely kept quiet. “Hmm… what about a drink and a hot meal? I do so love a good cup of mead; it’s rare back at home.”

Greggree raised a brow.

Still smiling, Ns’ere tilted her head in question. Her smile slowly fell. Cas frowned.

“Something wrong?” Ns’ere asked, confused.

Greggree looked at his wife, who quickly smoothed over her shock. “Forgive us. We thought you might want… more, than what any guest would receive.”

Cas hesitated. His hand opened and closed. He wondered if a hug would be too much for his aunt to ask of someone from Reygo.

Ns’ere laughed in realization. “Oh! No, just the food is fine. No need to cut open a vein.”

The three kneeling relaxed. The crowd seemed to breath easier as well and Cas glanced at them in surprise. It was as he was told: other tribes wanted blood in exchange for a wrongdoing.

Greggree cleared his throat. “Good.” He raised his voice and it boomed through the roundhouse. “Bring out our best mead! Get the cook fires roaring! We have guests!”

His wife said to Ns’ere, “Please, choose any beds you desire.”

Ns’ere beamed. “Thank you.”

The crowd slowly dispersed and Crae’caw rose to her feet with a groan. Cas stood and followed her to his aunt. As’een and Aer’eece left to claim beds along the walls for their group.

Ns’ere spotted Cas and Crae’caw and she clicked her tongue. She grinned and shook her head at them at having left the other dogs alone.

Cas dipped his head and a shy smile tugged at his lips.

Ns’ere chuckled and ruffled his hat, making a mess of the hair underneath. Once her hand lifted Cas reached up to right his hat but got a shock, as though a spark of fire had bitten him.

Ns’ere laughed. “Well, go on. Take the dogs out to relive themselves before we eat.” She looked at him meaningfully and added a quiet growl to back up her point: do not leave the dogs alone again.

Cas nodded. Ns’ere reached out to pinch at his side but he jumped away with a yelp. He laughed as he ran back to the dogs with Crae’caw, and the bigger dogs See’nie and Oc’wa trotting behind him.

He gathered the dogs and pups. Once outside the cold nipped at his cheeks. He adjusted his hat again and pulled up his white wool scarf. He slipped on his mitts and set out.

The chief’s great roundhouse stood at the top of the hill. Just outside the tribe’s central fire happily rose thin and tall into the sky. Cas walked around, following the paths of well-trodden snow. Torches stood outside of each house and crackled as though greeting anyone who wanted to enter. However few people were out in such cold.

The dogs trotted around him. The pups paused to sniff at a house, but once they realized no one had stopped they hurried to catch up. Cas giggled when Co’rae tripped over her large feet. She picked herself up and kept going, her tail wagging at the sound of his laughter.

The group of dogs earned them a look from a passerby. Cas smiled and waved with one of his big mitts and they dumbly lifted a mitt in return. He chuckled.

He led their way down the gentle slope, where they left behind the quiet of the hilltop and began through a piece of the first surrounding circle. The sounds of delicate clinking and harsh clanging escaped from buildings here and there. Oi’ua’s big floppy ears perked at the particularly loud sound of a hammer hitting iron. Az’ree’s tail fell low and his steps quickened. Cas hummed comforting sounds to soothe him.

Less snow had built up on the rooftops here. The enveloping heat from the buildings and homes of metalshapers kept the snow thin. A triumphant shout escaped through the door of one such place and a woman stepped out with a sword. She held it aloft by the handle, lifting the sharp blade to catch and reflect the moonlight.

Cas’ eyes widened. The blade shone nearly as bright as flame, and was both smooth and sharp like puppy-teeth. But unlike teeth the sword was completely for fighting, not eating. Despite its singular calling, Cas breathed in awe at the shining piece of art that the woman proudly waved around in the cold.

The metalshaper shivered. With a bright grin she lowered the blade and returned inside.

Something bumped Cas’ leg and he looked down. Crae’caw stared up at him expectantly and he patted her neck without thinking. He blinked and looked ahead. The pups were wrestling while the others were watching him. Az’ree had gone farther ahead to escape the clanging sounds.

Cas grunted in apology and jogged to catch up.

They passed through another circle with no metalshapers, and then another. After it the forest rose to meet them. There were many more bare, gnarled and twisting branches of sleeping trees than in Coo’noam. They far outnumbered the evergreens and allowed a little more of the gentle moonlight to touch the ground.

The odd snowflake quietly sparkled as the crisp, cold snow crunched beneath his boots. Humans were keeping warm in their homes while animals did much the same, sleeping in their dens or having left for warmer weather elsewhere. The forest was silent.

Cas’ steps slowed out of sight of the tribe. He looked around a bit until he found a spot and quickly relieved himself, covering up again before the cold could freeze him. He washed his hands in clean snow and replaced his mitts; it was the best he could do until he could access soap and water. The dogs took a bit longer. They sniffed different trees and bushes, but before too long each had found their desired spot. Cas kept an eye on them and the forest, listening for trouble while the pack were vulnerable.

Su’bee’s pointed black ears twitched and her head shot up. Cas immediately followed her line of sight. He held his breath, straining to listen as he searched the dark.

The sounds of rustling clothes met his ears. Then snow crunched underfoot and a terrified shout cut through the air.

He rushed forward at the same time as the muscular Oc’wa and See’nie. Su’bee followed and the rest came after. The bigger dogs quickly overtook him until the pups were the only ones still by his side. He kept an eye on them as he ran through the dark of the forest and the slices of moonlight.

He burst in on a group of men and women in chaos. They shouted at each other and the barking dogs. One thrust her spear forward and See’nie snarled, the fur raised high on her broad back.

Cas growled.

Someone whimpered. He glanced back to find a girl sitting on the snow with a spear held tight in her arms, as though she were seeking comfort from it. Her wide grey eyes flickered from the dogs to him and then to the attackers.

O’a and Co’rae whimpered. Cas’ head whipped around, thankful to find that the pups were huddled together in safety in the bushes. He quickly inspected the other dogs and relaxed a little in relief to find no one had been hurt.

“Kid!” a man snarled. “Control your dogs!

Cas bared his teeth and growled as low as he could. The dogs gave him space as he neared the men and women.

“What the…?” a woman said. Her long blond hair peeked out from under her hood. Cas’ eyes flickered to it in surprise.

“…what are you doing?” the first man asked, befuddled. He shook his head and his voice turned a little softer. “It doesn’t matter. Look, we just want the girl. This doesn’t have to be your problem.”

There was an inhale and Cas glanced over his shoulder. The girl’s eyes flickered to him, flooded with doubt and fear.

He turned and growled again at the Suuroo warriors. Without looking away he waved the dogs back. They knew to step away, leaving only See’nie and Oc’wa with him. Their thick snouts wrinkled and spit dripped from their mouths. Warnings rumbled low in their big chests.

One woman scoffed. She and a man stepped forward and Cas mimicked them.

The man shoved his spear at Oc’wa and in return the dogs barked and snarled. Another man joined the first, shouting and fighting to keep the them back. See’nie snapped at his spear and locked her jaw around it. She shook her mighty head and the wood splintered. The man shouted and fought to take back control of his weapon. The other man danced back and forth, yelping every time the slimmer Oc’wa nipped at his heels.

The woman stabbed her spear at Cas. He ducked under it and punched at the centre of her chest. She couched and protectively curled in on herself. Cas took the opportunity to back away, fists raised.

The woman glared at him as she rubbed her chest, before once again brandishing the spear. He growled. Her lips twitched up as though she were about to do the same.

She jabbed and he jumped out of the way. The snow and layers of clothes made the fight harder but Cas was younger and quicker. He dodged her attacks and tried to return a few punches but she held them off.

Finally he tossed his mitts at her face. She batted them away with her spear but he used the distraction to jump on her. She shrieked in surprise and then pain as Cas wrapped his legs around her and clawed at her face. His nails dug white lines across her cheeks. He reached under her hat, grabbed her hair close to her scalp and pulled, giving him a better angle to bite her crooked nose.

She screamed and Cas jumped off as she fell. He back away, his breath quickly fogging in the air. Flecks of blood dripped from his mouth and fell to the snow.

The warrior cursed loudly and held her nose.

The second woman swore. “It’s a dog!” She raised the end of her spear at him in shock as she retreated.

The other Suuroo had stopped fighting the moment Cas began clawing at his opponent. They stared at him, horrified. See’nie and Oc’wa watched the humans carefully.

A man’s spear began shaking. “I-I thought they were just pu-push-overs?”

The second woman shook her head. “I’m not doing this. One Gwae is not worth it!” She spun and ran into the darkness of the trees.

The rest exchanged looks while quick breaths of fog escaped from each of them. Cas’ gaze travelled from one to the next, focusing on the slightest movement.

He started instinctively as they turned and bolted. The first woman swung her spear behind them to ward off the dogs but Cas whistled and they stepped back, allowing the Suuroo to escape.

Cas and the dogs waited and listened to their retreating sounds. Once he was sure they were gone he took a couple of long, deep breaths.

Something moved and he spun. The girl froze halfway to her feet. Seeing is was just her, the tension in his shoulders loosened. He breathed out and the girl fell back onto the snow.

He glanced at the dogs and pups as they slowly returned. Once he was satisfied that no one had been hurt, and that the frightened dogs were being cared for by the others, he stepped closer to the girl.

He tilted his head and made a quiet sound. She glanced but didn’t respond, although he thought he heard a slight whimper.

He grunted in realization, remembering that he had to vocalize his intentions.

He said aloud, “They’re gone now. Are you alright?”

She sniffed. He saw her hands tremble on the spear and he carefully lowered himself to kneel on the ground. Startled by his movement her eyes flashed to him. She opened her mouth but Oi’ua stepped forward and forced herself on her lap. She tensed and inhaled in surprise, but the bear of a dog only lowered her big paws and then her head. She quietly huffed and closed her eyes.

The girl stared. Cas watched and waited patiently, although the cold was turning his hands pink. On his lap he curled his fingers in until they were shielded inside his sleeves.

The girl slowly lowered her mitted hand. The other loosely held the spear, now jammed between her and Oi’ua.

She paused. Her flicked up to Cas.

He smiled. When she didn’t say speak his smile slowly faded in confusion.

His brows rose in sudden understanding. “I’m sorry.” He quickly licked and wiped his lips, hoping to get rid of most of the blood.

Her lips twitched and his smile returned.

“It’s… thank you.” Her voice was soft and quiet. “Can I pet your dog?”

He stared, blinking. “My…? Oh. Oh, no Oi’ua isn’t mine.” He smiled again. “She wants you to pet her.”

She sniffed again but this time a small smile spread across her lips. Her grey eyes drifted to Oi’ua and she began petting her.

His chest warmed at seeing her take comfort in Oi’ua. He watched until a black curl of hair grabbed his attention. It had fallen from under her wool hat and reminded him of what the Suuroo had said.

A crease formed between his brows. He softly asked, “Were they after you because you’re Gwae?”

Her hand paused as she glanced up at him. He waited and tilted his head with a small noise.

She bit her lower lip. Oi’ua opened her eyes and gazed up at her. The other dogs came near but not too close. They picked spots on the snow, curling up into another dog pile to keep warm while they waited for Cas.

The girl ran her hand along Oi’ua’s head again. Oi’ua closed her eyes and shifted her rear legs into a more comfortable position.

“…I think so,” the girl whispered, sure in her words. “The Suuroo don’t like… us anymore.”

Cas opened his mouth to ask why but closed it again. The girl glanced up at him, like a dog who had been hurt and was closely watching every movement.

He hummed and shuffled forward. “Well, you’re safe now. They’re gone.”

She hesitated. He smiled as he crossed his legs.

“Tha-thank you,” she said.

He nodded.

They sat for a little while longer. The dogs shifted once, and the moon had taken a step across the sky by the time Cas’ feet and fingers were becoming worryingly cold.

He grunted. The girl looked at him and he raised a hand in peace, smiling again. He went to rise to his feet but they gave out from under him. The girl gasped and jumped forward. Oi’ua scrambled out from between them and the girl caught him.

Cas grunted and grabbed her shoulders. He made a noise, then remembered himself again and said, “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Are you okay?”

He hummed and grinned. “Just my legs. They need to wake up.”

“Oh- okay.”

She helped him to sit with his legs across the snow. Together they worked to rub them until he could feel again.

His teeth clenched. He caught her look of worry and he laughed awkwardly. “I hate this feeling.”

“Me too. …its like nine-hundred needles.”

He laughed again. “It is! Or like puppy teeth!”

A laugh escaped her and he beamed. Her spear had been put aside and her hand no longer trembled. She didn’t spook when a dog moved.

“Do you want to come back with us?” he asked.

Her smile fell on her pale face. “Go back?”

“To Reygo. We’re visiting and its nice and warm in the chief’s house.”

Her eyes glanced to the forest in the direction of the tribe. “No, no. I’m… I’m going somewhere else. I-I don’t think I should stay at the chief’s.”

His brows turned up. “Why?”

“I um… I-I should go.” She rose to her feet and he followed.

“But shouldn’t you rest?”

She bent to pick up her spear. On her back her wool bag was dusted in snow.

He walked over and brushed it off. She jumped and he winced at his mistake, but when she didn’t protest he kept going.

Once it was clean he stepped back. “Those Suuroo were scary. If you don’t want to be a guest maybe you could come rest by the fire.”

She hesitated, worrying her lip between her teeth again. Oi’ua glanced up at her. Co’rae pawed the ground at her feet.

She swallowed. “Okay.”

He dashed to grab his mitts and pulled them on.

He happily led them into Reygo. Once again Az’ree trotted ahead to avoid the sounds of the metalshapers. The girl looked at him in confusion and Cas pointed to his ears and then toward the clanging sounds. Understanding flashed across her face, which was quickly replaced with concern for Az’ree. Seeing it, warmth spread through Cas’ chest and fingers.

The noise of a yawn distracted him. Behind them O’a’s footsteps were sluggish and her head hung low. Su’bee bent to pick her up by the scruff, Cas turned and took the tired pup instead. He held her close against his chest, and then searched for Co’rae before picking her up too. He stepped closer to the girl and invited her to take a puppy.

She glanced wide-eyed at them. A small breeze blew her lock of hair around.

“Are you sure?”

He nodded. His smile grew as she fumbled with her spear. She fiddled with it, trying to figure out how to hold both, but soon enough she figured it out and held both the spear and the grey and white Co’rae in her arms. Once she was settled they continued up the slopes.

Cas watched her expression soften bit by bit as she looked over the puppy. Co’rae suddenly shifted in her arms and she inhaled, but Co’rae only sought to get more comfortable. Once she relaxed again the corners of the girl’s mouth lifted upward.

Cas’ cheeks hurt from smiling.

As they neared the fire he jogged ahead and spun next to it.

Waving his free arm, he said, “Sit here, I’ll be right back!”

He turned, made it a few steps, then spun again and jogged back to her. With an apologetic smile he took Co’rae from her arms and cradled both pups against his chest.

Inside the roundhouse were far less people than before. A few guests were sleeping while others ate and spoke quietly. They glanced at him as he ran in.

He spotted his aunt and the others by the beds.

Ns’ere raised a brow as he dashed toward them. She had removed her cloak and thick outer tunic.

“There’s someone outside,” he said, panting with excitement. He set the pups down on a bed as carefully as he could and ran back the way he came. “I’m gonna help her!”

Ns’ere raised her cup. “Of course!” she praised him with rosy cheeks and a big grin. “Let us know if you need us!”

“I will!” he called back as he ran out the door.

He only made it a couple of steps outside before digging his heels into the packed snow. Giggling at himself, he returned inside and sought out the food, cleaning his hands first with soap and warm water at one of the wash bowls.

At first bewildered, Ns’ere and the others laughed.

“Would she like to come in?” Aer’eece kindly asked.

Cas quickly dried his hands and shook his head. He gathered up two metal bowls and wooden cups. “She doesn’t want to come in, so I’m bringing her food.”

“Good boy,” Ns’ere said. “Here, take this blanket to her.”

He made a grateful noise and accepted it. He folded it tight and briefly placed it on a bed while he left to fill the bowls. The cook scooped a heaping ladle of stew into each. The thick and hearty mixture of hazelnuts, root vegetables, and boar meat had soaked up the water.

Cas looked to the side and grunted.

The cook frowned in confusion.

Cas asked, “Spoons, please?”

The woman handed him two metal spoons. He made a pleased noise and nodded in thanks.

He turned to leave, but she asked, “Ah, wait, child. Where are you eating that?”

“Outside.”

She nodded and held out her hand. “Right. Here. You get wooden spoons instead or you’ll freeze your mouth to the metal.”

His eyes widened and he quickly swapped them.

Moments later he stepped outside again, this time fully making his way to the girl. She had sat by the fire, encircled by Oi’ua and Oc’wa. The light from the fire danced across them as she ran a mitted hand along Oc’wa’s fur.

The girl looked up as he approached.

He said, “They made stew—it smells really good! And my Sunt Ns’ere grabbed this blanket for you.” He moved the bowls to the snow and passed her the wool blanket. Together they unfurled it and laid it across her lap. Then Cas handed her one of the bowls with a spoon.

Without another word he got up and left again for the house, missing her look of surprise and sadness.

Another moment and he returned with the two wooden cups. There were filled with a warm mead and water mixture. He offered one to her. She stared at him and he tilted his head in question.

She inhaled and quickly accepted the cup. Cas smiled and picked up his bowl, juggling both it and his cup as he sat down on the snow next to her. He held the cup between his legs and dug into the food. The stew instantly warmed his mouth and worked its way down throat, into his belly where it sat comfortably.

The girl began slow, but soon picked up the pace and finished not long after him.

Cas removed his mitts and wrapped his hands around the still warm cup. The heat seeped into his palms and fingers like a welcome-home hug. He sipped at the mead, comfortable in the silence of the crackling fire and a new friend.

The girl shifted once, then a second time. He glanced at her. She held her cup in her hands without giving it much attention. Her eyes darted to anyone who passed by. She relaxed when they disappeared into a building, but would tense up again when someone else came out.

Cas made a noise and her eyes flickered to him. He tried a comforting hum but she didn’t react.

Out loud, he said, “It’s okay, you’re safe here.” He looked to the side in thought. “I think Reygo and Gwae like each other.”

After a pause, she nodded. Her eyes drifted downward and Cas nearly whimpered at the sadness there. “They… they used to be good friends. Then…” she inhaled shakily.

He waited. He lifted his hand but stopped himself and returned it to the cup.

She shook her head. “They weren’t friends for a long while, but they’re friends again now.”

“That’s good. Even if they weren’t I’d protect you.”

Her eyes shot up to him. He smiled.

Her expression wavered. “Why?” she asked softly.

His eyebrows furrowed as he pondered her words.

Eventually, he said, “I don’t understand.”

She frowned. “Why would you help me?”

“Because you’re my friend.”

Her mouth opened and closed. “But-but you don’t even know my name. This isn’t your tribe—I’m not your guest!”

He shrugged. “That’s okay. What’s your name?”

She stared at him for a long moment.

Weakly, she said, “…Madga. It’s Madga.”

“Hi, Madga,” he said with a bright smile. He pointed at the dogs around her. “That’s Oi’ua and that’s Oc’wa. And I’m-”

“I think I should go.”

“Whuh-what?” He jumped to his feet with her. The dogs looked up at their sudden movements and stood.

The girl swallowed. She firmly returned the bowl and cup. “I’m sorry for bothering you.” She glanced at someone passing by. Her breath stuttered in her chest. “I shouldn’t bother you any more.”

He frowned and whimpered. “But you’re not bothering me.”

Her eyes flickered to him. She shook her head and stepped away to pick up her spear and bag. “Sorry.”

Cas stepped forward but stopped. He held back another whimper, the bowls and cups cradled to his chest. He held her full cup in one hand.

Reluctantly, he said, “Okay. But be careful, please.”

She hesitated. She didn’t look at him as she nodded and shouldered her bag. She turned away, using the spear as a walking stick.

He watched as she left. The dogs sniffed his legs and Oc’wa glanced from him to the girl.

Cas started as a thought came to him. He opened his mouth and took a deep breath, but ultimately swallowed it. He didn’t want frighten her.

Instead he smiled. He softly said, “I will see you again, Madga.”

Synopsis: A snow storm catches Madga off guard. Quickly seeking shelter, she runs into a group of Suuroo warriors... just before something comes out of the snows to attack them.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ────── · 。ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Madga sniffed and wiped her reddened nose for the ninth and ninth time on her wool cloak, wrapped around her like a huge blanket and held by a wooden broach. The moisture from her breath melted and quickly froze again on the fabric surrounding her lower face.

The cold rushed into her lungs and caught her off guard. She coughed and a big cloud of fog puffed into the air.

Her boots crunched across the snow between the trees and brush. Something tugged on her pack and she inhaled and turned, only to see that a thorny bush had snagged on a cord of rope. She breathed out with another cough. She shifted the spear in her arms to free up one hand, and then twisted and carefully lifted the thin, prickly branch with her big mitt. The thorns caught on the mitt but let go after some gentle coaxing.

From somewhere above her the full moon shone through the pine branches here and there, setting the odd flake on the ground to sparkle. Every breath released a puff of fog. When nothing jumped out at her from the dark, silent forest she hugged the spear again and moved on, walking by the light of the moon and stars filtering between the trees.

There was only the sound of her feet and breath, until eventually a rustling caught her ears and she looked up. The lower branches around and above her were quiet, but a wind had begun blowing across the tops of the trees. It hissed through the needles as it grew stronger and stronger.

Finally the branches above her swayed and snow flew between them. Her eyes widened and she searched for shelter.

The wind howled through the forest without a clear voice or direction. The blowing snow thickened until only nearby trees could be seen.

The moon and stars disappeared. The cold nipped around her skin and the flying snow poked at her eyes. She squinted and walked with her hands holding the spear out in front of her. The bushes and branches scrapped against it, but eventually it gave way.

She took a few more careful steps but felt nothing. She shifted her grip on the spear and slowly waved it around, but still she felt nothing.

The little clouds of fog came faster. She turned around and walked with the spear pointed outward again, but after a handful of steps she still hadn’t returned to the forest.

She lowered the spear. She stood silent in the endless whirl of wind and snow, whimpering and hugging the spear tight in her arms. She had made a grave error by walking too close to the open plains.

Her knees trembled. She wanted to fall to the ground but a firm, and not unkindly feeling kept her upright. She shivered as the unruly winds pushed the cold through her clothes. The winds tugged and tore at her hood, flinging it off to reveal the hat and black curls underneath. She fixed it but seconds later it was ripped off again.

She reached up to fix it a second time but froze when something pricked at her ears. She heard it again and focused on the sound, trying to parse it from the howling wind.

An irritated voice shouted and was quickly followed by others. Another one responded. The wind seemed to relax, lightening the veil of snow just enough to reveal a warm light.

The snow rushed in again and the welcoming sight was lost. But she took a breath and headed toward it, hoping she wouldn’t stray in the dark. Strands of wind pushed and pulled at her once or twice but this time it was gentle, as though trying to nudge her in the right direction.

The voices grew and she breathed in relief, but still her heart sped up at their tone of voice.

“We protect people like you from the Tasoragh and angry spirits!” a woman shouted.

An elderly man shot back, “I wouldn’t need protecting if you ceased fighting each other! Then there wouldn’t be angry spirits!”

The others erupted in anger.

“What!”

“Are you really going to leave us in this blizzard!?” one cried.

“It’s your responsibility to house us warriors,” another snarled. The elderly man scowled and stepped back but one of the warriors kept the door open.

Madga slowed to a stop some distance behind them. They didn’t seem to notice. They were blond Suuroo warriors, dressed in thick wool and fur clothes, with long wool cloaks and sturdy fur and leather boots. Spears and packs were strapped to the backs of half of them, and all had small round shields. Strangely there were no horses or a chariot in sight.

She tensed and took a step back when their voices rose again.

Her boot crunched in the snow at the same time a low growl rumbled through the storm. She froze. The warriors went quiet and turned. Their eyes acknowledged her presence, but moved on and quickly searched for the source of the noise.

“What was that?” the elderly man asked, shattering the silence.

Another growl erupted and angry, unnatural red eyes swivelled toward them in the dark. Madga stiffly looked over her shoulder and the snow thinned, giving them all a view of a very large plains lion.

The great cat glared at them. Its pale fur rose high on the back of its neck. Its tail dragged across the snow. The wind brushed the fur on its back, which briefly shifted into unkept, artistic swirls and wedges before reforming into animal fur.

It snarled with sharp teeth. A thick and muscled limb covered in spots took a step toward them.

“In. Now,” one of the women firmly said.

The warriors slowly backed up. The man argued and the cat growled again. The warriors piled into his house, effectively silencing him. Madga slowly turned and backed toward them, watching as the spirit-animal advanced.

Her heart hammered at her ribs, and her breath quickened against her will. The lion matched each step, before slowly lowering into a crouch.

Her mind went blank as her body shouted at her to run. She turned and at the same time someone grabbed her shoulder and effortlessly pulled her into the house.

The woman slammed the door behind them and the lion roared from the other side. A loud, hard thump on the wood followed, and the woman and a man pushed against the door. Two other warriors ran past the elderly man to grab his cot and shove it against the door. Then his cauldron.

“Hey! That’s my bed! And my supper!!”

The lion snarled deep and loud.

“Shut up,” one of the warriors spat at him.

“How-how dare you?!” The old man barely recovered from his shock as he said, “I am your elder.”

“You are,” the man hissed back. “But you’re also agitating the spirit outside!”

“Me?!”

A yowl sliced through the air and everyone stared at the door. A deep growl followed.

“Enough,” said the woman who had pulled Madga to safety. She was tall and thin. Muscles strained against her clothes. “Ready yourselves.”

She removed her pack and cloak, revealing bone daggers attached to her hips and legs.

She took her round shield from her pack, and calmly said, “Since the spirit isn’t giving up we’ll have to defeat it. Otherwise it will be a danger to not only him, but to travellers like her.”

Madga had stepped farther into the rectangular Suuroo-style house. At the mention of her she swallowed and shrunk into herself.

The rest of the warriors began shucking their packs and travelling gear much like their leader had. Soon they were carrying spears, daggers, and shields at the ready. They nodded at the woman with respect, trust, and readiness.

The old man grumbled, “You had better not bring your fight in here.”

The man that had been arguing with him scowled and gestured about the room. “It’s our fight. Do you really think it’ll leave you alone? It nearly knocked down your door.”

Despite his heavy wrinkles the elder straightened and puffed out his thin chest. “And as I said it would have no interest in me if you weren’t here in the first place. If you would cease your squabbling with the Tasoragh-”

The man’s eyes flew wide. “‘Squabbling’!? Centuries of war and the things they’ve pulled you call squabbling!?”

A roar shook the air and the fire itself seemed to flicker. Heavy thumps sounded on the snow-covered roof. After a pause, the faint sound of scratching reached their ears. Both men paled as dust rained down from the ceiling.

The gaze of one of the other women shifted downward to Madga. The woman’s blond hair had been tightly tied in braids around her head. Woven in were painted bone beads and a few ribbons.

“Can you use that?” she asked.

Madga’s terrified gaze left the ceiling and stared in wide-eyed confusion. The woman’s eyes flickered to the spear she hugged in her arms. Madga’s mouth opened in a silent ‘Oh’. She shook her head.

The spirit-lion roared again in frustration.

The woman nodded and stepped closer.

She said, “Then you’re going to learn today, because we might need everyone on hand. I’m Sena.”

Her words squeaked out. “Ma-ma-Madga- but I- I don’t want to fight. I don’t want to kill it.”

Sena shook her head. “It’s not just about killing. It’s about protecting people who can’t protect themselves.”

“And ourselves,” the second man added dryly.

The old man glanced at them but his gaze was curiously focused on Sena.

Sena shook her head ruefully at the other warrior. “Yes, in this case you’re right, Owes, but only this time. Okay, Madga, pack off, please, arms up. That spear is a little long for you but I think we can make it work.”

Madga reluctantly did as she was told under Sena’s expectant gaze. Once again, hand’s trembling, she held the spear with both hands.

“Spread your hands at one end, it’s not a twirly druid’s staff.”

One of the women snorted, temporarily distracted from their strategy meeting.

Madga glanced at her. “Sorry,” she mumbled to Sena and did as she was told.

Sena reached for her left hand and Madga instinctively stepped back.

Sena raised her hands in an apology. “I wanted to place your hands properly. Can I?”

Madga mumbled and nodded. Her muscles relaxed as Sena positioned her right hand at the end of the staff. She quickly walked her through some thrusting maneuvers. Madga’s hands shook at first but to her surprise they slowly relaxed with each move.

A great thump sounded through the house and her hands trembled again. Everyone paused to listen for more sounds through the howling of snow and wind.

A loud bang sounded on the door and Madga jumped. The stew in the cauldron sloshed.

“What about you? Can you fight?” asked the other woman.

The elderly man shook his head.

One of the men quietly swore. “Telling us what to do but you can’t even defend yourself,” he muttered.

The old man’s eyes narrowed and his mouth thinned under his thick white beard. “I don’t need to know how to fight to know that it accomplishes nothing.”

Another yowl set Madga’s teeth on edge. Another bang and she again clutched the spear tight to her chest.

Sena looked at her. “Hold it properly. Hopefully you won’t need to use it but keep the head up just in case.” She turned to her leader. “Oiesuu, what’s the plan?”

Oiesuu nodded once and repeated to her what she and the other warriors had discussed.

While they spoke, Madga’s eyes travelled to the door. A low growl snuck in through the crack between it and the wall. A snowflake drifted in, accompanied by the sound of claws scratching on wood.

She swallowed. She nearly brought the spear close to her chest again but stopped herself. Her right hand anxiously turned the staff. A design had once been carved into it, but the wood was incredibly smooth. The craftwork didn’t catch on her skin as it spun in her left hand. Gnarled branches, or bolts of lightning, ran from one end of the spear to the other. And long, smoothed bone had been affixed to the top as the point. Other than the design, the weapon largely resembled any ordinary spear.

Sena nodded regarding Oiesuu’s plan of action, and the other warriors nodded again. Oiesuu returned it and faced the door. She glanced at Madga and the elder. She waved for them to back away and they followed her instruction. The older man watched, his expression a mix of frustration, fear, and worry. His eyes flashed to Madga as she neared but he said nothing.

With a quick look from Oiesuu, Sena and Owes moved the cauldron as quietly as possible. They went to the cot next, just as a growl came from outside. They paused for a long moment, glancing at each other, before moving it. Oiesuu and the others slid into its place as it was taken away, weapons and shields at the ready. Sena and Owes joined them at the rear.

Madga’s heart trembled in her chest. At some point she had stopped breathing and she forced herself to inhale.

The house was silent except for the crackling fire and the wild winds. Oiesuu gestured and Owes slipped around with quiet steps. He shifted the bone dagger to his other hand and grabbed the door handle. He waited for the order.

Oiesuu nodded and Owes yanked it open.

Outside the lion jerked around, interrupted in its anxious pacing. Its lips twitched up in a snarl.

Step after step, Oiesuu walked out the door, her spear raised in one hand with a small round shield in the other. She didn’t look away as she began to circle her adversary, allowing the others to follower her outside. The lion snarled again, its red eyes twitching from one warrior to the next.

Madga kept well within the house, spear held up in her hands, which were shaking once again.

Snow distorted Oiesuu’s figure as she made it to the opposite side of the lion. Her hood fell down and her braided hair whipped around her in the wind, but she didn’t move to fix it. A few of the other warriors’ hoods were ripped off but their focus too remained on their opponent.

Sena gave a test jab and the lion snarled. It took a step back, but Oiesuu jabbed from the other side and its head whipped around with a growl.

Something moved out of the corner of her eye and Madga tensed. She minutely as she realized it was the elder. He slowly neared the door for a better look. Madga bit her lip. Her feet shifted, unsure, but she followed him with the tip of the spear held out in front like Sena had taught her.

The lion’s form shifted. The swirls were tense, jagged. Its tail lashed in agitation and it suddenly leapt for the third woman. She twisted, jabbed, and the lion roared. It shuffled away from her, droplets of blood speckling the white snow. At the same time swirls and wedges floated away from the body to dissipate in the wind.

Its head lowered, body tense for fight or flight. Ears flattened back as the warriors yelled and jabbed at it. It growled, and the noise rumbled through their chests.

The old man shook his head. “Can’t they see its just frightened. Exactly like a cornered animal, and all because of this fighting.” Madga glanced at him, and to her horror he flung out his hand and shouted, “You’re just making the spirit angrier!”

The man he had been arguing with earlier clenched his teeth and his head spun toward him. Owes glanced at them.

“Shut up! Do you really think if we left it alone like this it would-”

The lion yowled as though someone hit it and it lunged for Owes. His eyes flashed in surprise but he held his spear firm. However the lion weaved past it and smacked him with a heavy paw. The claws tore through his clothes and bit into his shoulder. He cried out and blood arched in the air to scatter on the snow and the lion.

Madga stepped back as the fight truly began, as though the attack on Owes had suddenly cut a cord of tension. Shouts and growls intermingled with the howling of the wind and blows were exchanged. Distressed and frozen in helplessness, the elder’s eyes flickered from one fighter to the next.

The lion turned and its eyes landed on them. Madga stepped back again but the elder was still frozen with his hands pressed against the side of the doorway. Blood dripped from the lion’s shoulder and face, and swirls curled up from both wounds.

The spirit-animal tensed and snarled as the man who the elder had argued with shuffled to stand between them. A thin line of blood was soaking through his leggings.

Without looking back, he said, “Get in and shut the door.”

The elder didn’t respond.

“Hey, get moving,” he said louder. The lion growled. Sena jabbed at its flank but it snarled and jumped at her.

The man turned and snarled, “Move!”

The elder seemed to snap out of his frozen state. He blinked. His lips curled. “I-”

The lion shook its head, fog puffing from its nostrils. A low voice moaned through the wind, Stop.

The warriors froze. The two men turned to stare. Madga’s eyes widened.

The spirit’s tail lashed. It spoke without moving its mouth.

It yowled and its head shook again. Stoooooop!

The younger man breathed, “What-?”

STOOOOP! It blindly charged and bowled him over before knocking the old man to the side against the door and running into the house. Madga scrambled back, dropping the spear and tripping over her feet to fall on her rear.

The lion ran through the fire and stumbled over the spear that the man had accidentally lodged in its chest. It crashed hard against the opposite wall and cracked the wood, but as the house was partially buried the wall refused to give.

It stopped where it lay. Blood trickled to the floor, and more swirls drifted into the air to fade like smoke.

The warriors returned to the house. Oiesuu helped up the man the lion had ran over, and Sena wrapped the elder’s arm around her shoulder before pulling him to his feet.

The third woman only had a few scratches. She took careful steps toward the spirit-animal with her spear at the ready. Madga held her breath as her spear’s tip neared the body.

The lion shifted. Madga squeaked and the woman jumped back.

Stop… fight.... The moan weakened and turned into a whisper. At the same time its entire body faded into the swirls and wedges and mist before disappearing completely.

There was a brief pause. With no body to keep it upright, the spear fell to the floor with two thunks.

Madga took a breath, not realizing she had held onto it.

Owes groaned from where he leaned against the door frame.

Oiesuu quietly inhaled and turned to the third woman. “Ruucu, lay Owes down. Reeara, are you alright?”

The man straightened and stepped out of her care. He nodded. “Just a few bruises and this cut on my leg. I can look after Owes, but… from what I can see, he’ll need a better healer than me.”

“Do you best. Keep him alive. We can’t leave until the storm passes.”

A scowl twitched on Reeara’s face. “Whenever that’ll be.” He sighed. “Alright, elder, I’ll need-”

“I’ll do it.” The old man straightened and removed his arm from around Sena’s shoulders. She eyed him but he remained firmly on his feet.

He coughed and winced from some pain. He explained, “My father was a bit of a healer.” He travelled to a wooden box. “Once I was older I learned an unfair amount from a druid-healer.”

“What about yourself?” Sena asked as she joined him. She kneeled and opened the box for him.

He grunted. “Thank you. If you could use the lid and bring everything, I’d be grateful,” he muttered. “I’m fine. You’re friend there took most of the damage from the spirit’s charge.”

Reeara snorted. The tips of his long beard caught between his arms as he crossed them but he didn’t bother fixing it. He shifted, keeping some weight off his injured leg. “And who’s fault is that?”

The elder’s eyes flashed at him as he passed on his way to Owes. The anger dimmed when he looked away. “It’s everyone’s fault, if what just happened means what I think it means.”

Reeara paused to look at the place the spirit had been.

“If you can at least wrap your leg I suggest you get a move on,” the elder said.

Reeara scowled but went to his pack.

Madga’s eyes lingered on the cracked wood at the end of the house. The dirt on the other side remained there, frozen and dark.

Her head turned as Sena kneeled in front of her with her spear. “Did you get hurt?”

Madga shook her head.

Sena smiled. “Good.” She held out her spear. Reluctantly, Madga took it and followed Sena to her feet.

Sena’s gaze turned to her black hair. Her smile slowly faded as it lingered there. Madga glanced away, her heart beating too loud.

But Owes groaned and stole Sena’s attention. Madga quietly breathed out.

Ruucu was helping Owes out of the last tunic layering his chest. The blood had already begun hardening with the tunic stuck to it, and removing the shirt tore the sealed blood away. Fresh blood began running down his shoulder and onto the cot. He hissed, his skin already pale from blood loss.

Once the tunic was gone, the elder man kneeled on the floor by Owes with a grunt. He tutted at the state of the man’s shoulder.

“All this fighting, and look where it’s got you,” he muttered. Reeara stopped in wrapping his injury. Wide-eyed, incredulous, he opened his mouth but the man continued, “But I… I suppose I owe you all an, erm, an apology.”

Reeara’s mouth snapped shut.

The elder man cleared his throat. “Now see, I won’t apologize for my stance on the matter, I won’t. But… I see that I’m not entirely correct either. I see now that your type of fighting is also about protecting others, not just attacking an enemy for the sake of it.”

Several expressions flickered over Reeara’s face. He glanced at Ruucu, who shrugged, surprised.

Returning to his injury, Reeara asked, “Well, uh, I guess I’m glad you see it that way…? What’s your name?”

The elder didn’t answer right away. Oiesuu placed a bowl of water next to him. It had been snow that she had melted and boiled next to the fire as he and Reeara spoke. He muttered thanks and dipped a cloth into the warm water. Owes inhaled but otherwise didn’t react as the man began wiping the gashes on his shoulder.

“I am Dseeisret.”

Owes’ eyes flashed up to him. Sena, Ruucu, and Reeara froze. Oiesuu remained still. Madga’s eyes widened. They flickered from one person to the next. She shuffled back.

“What?” Ruucu asked in a tight voice.

Dseeisret continued working. He confirmed, “My mother was Suuroo. My father—the healer—was Tasoragh.” He made a quiet noise, like a sound between a huff and a chuckle. “You can’t tell now, but my hair wasn’t quite as bright as yours. Some called it the colour of dirty straw. Not my favourite description, but I suppose it could have been worse.”

Ruucu said, “You lied to us.”

He didn’t bother looking at her. “I did no such thing. You forced yourselves into my home, the home of a Tasoragh-Suuroo, when I said I didn’t want you here.”

“But-”

“Leave it,” Oiesuu said. Her gaze lingered on the elder. “There is no one here to help him. One Tasoragh isn’t a danger to us.”

Ruucu stared at her like she wanted to protest. Instead she turned her head and glared at the wall.

Oiesuu slowly turned and kicked charcoal and rocks into place, roughly repairing the fire, before sitting next to it. Sena’s gaze travelled over Madga one last time before joining her leader.

Madga swallowed.

Reeara stared down at his leg in thought. He slowly finished wrapping it and cut the cloth with a bone knife. Madga hugged her spear as she watched him return everything to his pack and stand with a wince. He brought the pack by the cot and knelt next to Dseeisret.

The old man raised a brow. Owes’ tired but wide eyes glanced from the potential threat to his fellow warrior. Reeara nodded at him, which seemed to reassure him a little. He relaxed, although his gaze remained on Dseeisret.

“Alright,” Reeara said in a clear voice, nearly in challenge, “Show me what a Tasoragh healer can do.”

Dseeisret smiled from under his long white beard. He cleared his throat. “Well, first….”

Madga looked at the women around the fire. She hesitated.

There was movement out of the corner of her eyes and she gasped and turned. Ruucu paused, looking at her. Madga didn’t say anything, and so Ruucu continued to sit down on the floor. Ruucu turned to the mens’ work, curious but wary as she straightened to get a better look.

Madga breathed out. She shifted on her feet before choosing to take a seat at the end of the cot, not sure where else to go until the storm could die down.

Her ears pricked as Reeara whispered, “I’m… you might have been right… about our fighting bothering the spirits.”

“Ah,” Dseeisret’s shoulder twitched upward in a weak shrug. “I’m not a druid, but in my life I’ve seen things like that. I know it affects them. Affects humans too. I hate seeing it altogether.”

“Not sure I can completely agree with you. My cousin was killed by… the Tasoragh.” He glanced at Dseeisret before looking down. “I’m not sure I could ever walk away.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I’ve also seen people cut down by Suuroo. I hope I’ll live to see tomorrow.”

“Of course you will,” Reeara promised.

Dseeisret nodded his thanks. After a moment, he said, “I accept your apology, by the way. About my being right about the spirits.”

Reeara’s eyebrows rose in surprise. He huffed a laugh and shook his head. “Just keep working, elder.”

Dseeisret chuckled quietly.

Madga huddled against the wall, hugging the spear and listening to their voices and their work. Her eyes grew heavy, and though she tried to fight it, eventually she drifted off to sleep.

Synopsis: Madga discovers a long forgotten weapon.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ────── · 。ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

A sudden gust rammed across the trees and Madga braced against it. When it stopped just as quickly she nearly fell. After a pause she returned to humming a song she had heard a few days past north of Wrysal.

She followed a faint deer trail that gently wound through the forest and out onto a crag. Large hills were rare here and the incline had surprised her.

Her steps paused as she looked southwards across the canopy. In the distance another hill rose under the light of the moon. The sight reminded her a bit of the highlands of her home and her song faltered.

Below the crag the branches of the trees whistled under the onslaught of a different rogue wind. They had just begun budding and she knew they would have been a beautiful bright green in the light of the sun.

A memory flashed behind her eyes, tearing at her mind with ragged claws. She inhaled and her knees bent as she curled inward.

She whimpered. She slid to her knees and covered her head with her hands. Her fingers curled into her wavy black hair, loosening the tie that kept her bangs off her face.

Another gust rolled across the trees, but wasn’t as hard as before. The sound of a wooden limb squeaking across another, and the push of the wind, broke her from her panic.

She lowered her hands and spread her palms on the ground. Although doubtful, she began an exercise that a person from the dog tribe had taught her. She shifted her fingers a little, softly brushing the dirt between them, and breathed.

She could smell the fresh earth of spring. She breathed out. As she continued to breathe slow and long she felt the dirt again. Her pinkie nudged a tuff of grass and twitched. She opened her eyes. Her gaze roamed over the trail, the dirt padded by deer and other animals. Then toward the rough edge of the cliff where the grasses and bush abruptly stopped.

She blinked in surprise as her heart relaxed and her vision widened beyond the narrow tunnel of panic.

She took another breath and leaned back on her heels. A gentle breeze drifted across the top of her head without touching anything else around her. She breathed out, enjoying the touch of the wind.

Her gaze left the cliff and the trail to drift toward the trees. In the south here there were more leaf-trees. Their branches stood tall and spread wide, small buds beginning to unfurl. Her eyes fell on a small needle-tree that had taken root among the leaf-trees. Its needles were thin and its body was delicate. It had chosen a poor spot, right next to another young tree that would surely hinder its growth.

As Madga stared a crease formed between her eyebrows. She followed the trunk of the incredibly straight tree on its sharp, eastward angle until it suddenly ended.

Her mouth parted in realization. She glanced around, then removed her pack and got up.

She neared the staff, careful to avoid trampling the baby needle-tree next to it. It appeared that the handmade wooden staff had been abandoned for sometime—thin vines had crawled along its body while the grasses and bush around it had grown undisturbed. Despite the passage of time, the staff hadn’t rotted, as perfect as the day it had been carefully crafted.

At the bottom, near the tiny needle-tree, the staff changed. Madga blinked, realizing it wasn’t a staff, but a spear, buried deep into the ground until the nearly the entire head had disappeared.

She crouched but couldn’t make out much of the head. She rose again, and after a moment she stepped away.

Another weak breeze brushed her long hair.

She paused. Unsure, she looked back at the lonely spear. She stepped closer and brushed her fingers across a section free of vines. It was as smooth to the touch as it was to the eyes. The wood hadn’t a single rough edge, nowhere her fingers could slip and accidentally get a sliver lodged in her skin. It was cool, and somehow comforting.

She glanced around again, as though someone might suddenly stop her.

She gently removed the vines as best she could, unfortunately tearing at a few where they had grown too wildly to unwind from the staff. She whispered apologies. She watched her step as she planted her feet and wrapped her hands around the spear. She took a breath and pulled hard.

The spear didn’t give but the ground loosened. With a grunt she pulled again, then again, yanking the spear free with a gasp. She teetered backward and spread one of her arms wide. Another breeze brushed against her back but wasn’t strong enough to help. She shifted her weight in an attempt to avoid falling and awkwardly stepped once, twice, until she had returned to the trail in another gasp of air.

She held up the spear and pulled away a string of a vine that had stubbornly held on.

She looked over the wood with surprise. A design like bolts of lightning or tree branches had been carved into it. Again she ran her hand over it, expecting it to catch but didn’t. Her gaze travelled down to the head. She shifted the spear in her hands until she held the head close. It was made of polished and sharpened bone.

The cool, calm light of the moon shone on the shock of white-yellow. Something so dangerous would normally cause her to walk the other way, but something about the spear drew her in like the comfort and protection of a friendly fire in the middle of a blizzard.

She awkwardly turned the spear around. The head briefly caught on the grey wool wrap around her shoulders and she shifted it until she had it upright. The spear head shone tall and proud as it pointed toward the sky.

She stared at it for a long moment before turning and picking up her pack. Once it was on she hugged the spear close to her chest and began walking along the deer trail. Her leather bound feet padded the dirt, and a moment later the end of the spear joined them, now serving as her walking staff.

A small breeze tossed her hair with a huff, but it soon quieted down again, glad to be on the move after so long.