Deverall

Brites's skin tingled, even the parts covered by her clothes.

"J-j-just h-how f-f-far north a-are we?" Teeth chattering, she struggled to utter the simple sentence. Back against a freezing wall of stone, she added another dry branch to the tiny flame before her.

The moonlit boughs and sleeping creatures gave no answer.

She yawned and shook herself awake. "C'mon, girl. You're stronger than this," she told herself. "Wake up!" She shook her head, trying to clear the fog the unnatural chill instilled in her. A frame of sticks held tatters of thin cloth between her and the outside world. She reached for another branch, but her grasping digits found nothing.

Looking down, she saw a baby girl wrapped up in every spare scrap of cloth Brites possessed. Her eyes were closed, her breathing shallow, but even. She trembled in Brites' grip. Green eyes sprang open as a burst of wind cut through the thin cloth protecting them, and she opened her mouth to wail. Brites clutched her closer to her breast, holding all the tighter. “Hush… hush.” Brites tried to soothe the child. "L-let's f-find something to eat, a-and more k-kindling." Relieved her precious one had survived until now, she stood and stretched as best she could, checking the harness she carried the babe in was secure.

Beyond the flap of her lean-to, alien white powder blanketed everything from trees to shrubs to the very rock and soil. A frigid blast of wind cut through her clothes without stopping, or even slowing down. She clutched the little bundle in her arms closer to her bosom.

She noted the snow piling against their meager shelter. Maybe it will help keep the cold out. I can only hope. Going back… No. Never.

She gave a start and looked up as a sudden light blossomed in the sky. The formerly unbroken gray monotony now showed gaps of brilliant blue, through which the light of the sun dappled the landscape, filtered through the canopy of trees overhead. I must have slept, but when? she asked herself. No matter. I still need to feed myself, and this one. Maybe I'll find better shelter.

Her muscles were sluggish, their movements uncoordinated, and she felt so heavy. The weight of Eä might have rested on her shoulders. With a supreme effort of will, she trudged away from shelter. She wriggled her toes in her boots and rubbed her arms together; but she still stumbled with every other step.

There must be some place better. Some place which isn't… Pain lanced through her head as her mind almost formed the word for where she had been. She winced and fell to one knee before struggling up again. Snow sloshed as her foot rose above it, then crunched as her weight came back down upon it, sinking once again to her knee. As the women of the tribe go, I'm short, but this is ridiculous. How did I ever find this stuff pretty? Goddess, was that only last week?

She checked trap after trap. Several snares had been sprung, but they were all empty now, tiny pawed footprints leading both towards, and away from them. The last one she checked was just as empty, but the prints leading away from it were of feet, not paws. These prints were made by men. Her mind cleared instantly, and fatigue retreated, forgotten. It can't be them. Not here. Surely they've given up by now. It's been over a year!

She tore her gaze from the first print, following the line of them the short distance they went before vanishing amidst the trees. Only one, but who? She tried to calm her shallow, rapid breathing, to no avail. The tracks lead in the direction of the rising sun. She shook her head, turned left from their course, and moved as fast as the snow would allow.

Nothing in the camp is worth risking me, or the babe. I'd sooner kill her than let them take her. She kept looking behind her. Pursuit never manifested. As she was looking back, she stepped into a pile of snow, but her foot found no dirt or rock beneath it. She screamed on the way down. She wasn't sure what happened next. All was blinding white and bitter cold, and wet. She came to a painful stop as first her foot, then her butt hit something much harder than snow.

She tried to will herself to rise, to move, but her body was having none of it. “I’m so sorry, baby,” she whispered, clinging desperately to the little girl as darkness started to close around her. Tara was awake and wailing, but the sound was distant, as if they were on opposite sides of a tunnel. Brites no longer had the strength needed to quiet her. Snow crunched. Footfalls came closer. The heaviness of earlier was gone. Lightness, and the Light itself beckoned to her.

A man stood between her and that radiance. "Father?" she whispered. "Have you forgiven me?" Her vision faded. She drifted, floating on currents she no long had the presence of mind to understand. Up. Up. So peaceful…

Then she was pulled back down, and with a splash, unbearable heat closed around her. Her mouth opened, and she sat straight up, water flushing along her skin. Her hair draped over her face. A scream shot out, carrying on the still air.

“Well, her lungs work, that’s for sure,” a woman’s voice came from somewhere over her. Her eyes opened again. A group of women moved about, each wearing heavy fur clothes. One or two sported dresses, but most were in shirts and trousers. No men were in her line of sight. Steam came off her, and she put her arms in front of herself, clinging to a bundle which was no longer there.

"My daughter?!" she cried in her own tongue. Chastising herself a fool, she switched to the common speech and yelled. "Where's my child?!" She gripped the edge of the basin she sat in, trying to rise.

"Ease yourself, Mistress." The speaker was a red-headed woman standing over her, who easily pushed her by the shoulders back down into the water. "You just r-"

The title made her skin crawl and bile rise. "Don't call me that!" Her brown eyes cast about wildly. "Where is my child?"

"Forgive me. It's just how we call a strange woman whose status is uncertain." The redhead talked over Brites's two attempts to interrupt her. "Morrigan is tending to your girl, who is healthy and strong. We're gettin' some food in her now, over there, by the fire."

Brites turned her head to look in the direction the red had indicated, and the tension drained out of her in an instant. As it left her, the redhead knelt by the tub. "I am Nareena, daughter of Shayle, of the family O'Dale and a servant of Clan Deverall. How should we call you?"

Her eyes turned to the woman, studying her face. She would look prettier if she smiled, Brites thought to herself before she gave her name. She looked around, but saw only one woman and a dozen teenagers. Most of them were far too young to even think of calling themselves women. Beyond them stood a 'wall' made from draped canvases.

"Well met, Brites."

"Likewise. Who is it that I owe for my and my daughter's life?"

"Caine, Son of Roran, the Pathstalker is the one who pulled you from the snowdrift. The older girls got lads to erect the wall while they formed a wall of bodies around us. I'm the one who got your clothes off and got you into the water. I apologize for not bringing your temperature up more gradually, but you were on Lynael's doorstep." She made a sign to ward off evil. "Had I not acted as I did, she would have beckoned you over the threshold for sure."

Who? What is this woman talking about? Brites hesitated. Nareena waited patiently for something. "I offer you my thanks, and would give the same to the man who bore me hence."

Her counterpart blinked a few times. "Er… You're welcome. Was only the right thing to do. Are you a highborn noblewoman?"

Noble? In what context? "No," she said slowly. "What would make you think that?"

"Them were some fancy words, Mistr- ma'am." The girl who spoke was twelve at the oldest, and bore the babe in her arms, bouncing her gently. "My name is Morrigan, Daughter of Marion, of the Family Lane. I thought you might want to know your daughter will be fine."

"Thank you," Brites said. Her eyes swept over the sleeping babe, and found her perfect. These are not the enemy. I must be careful, lest I make them thus. "I am from a far-away land. Your tongue is strange upon my lips, and not yet well known to me. Do I speak wrong?"

"Nay, ma’am," said Nareena. "If anything, you speak a bit too well. All like a properly educated daughter of a Count or a Baron. Much better'n us common folk. What land do you hail from?"

No way in hell am I breathing that word aloud, she thought to herself. "A distant land. I'm sure the name would mean nothing to you."

Nareena gave Brites a searching look, but chose not to press her. "What of your husband?"

"Will she need much tending?" Brites turned to her daughter, and the girl caring for her.

"All wee barns need tending," she answered with a smile. "But a lil' food in her, and she'll be right as rain." Putting on a silly voice, the girl said several times, "Oh, yes you will!"

Brites pulled her too-wet dark hair out of her face again before cupping some of the water and splashing it over her head to warm it up again. "Not to be rude, but why isn't someone a bit older judging that?"

"Morrigan is the apprentice of our midwife, and healer," Nareena answered for her. "This is her first culling."

Brites blinked. "Her first what?"

Nareena shook her head. "When a boy or girl comes to their eleventh year, they take a trip 'round the province, from our home town of Deverall, east to Tanner's Stead, then south to Turner's Ford, West to Red Robyn's Roost, before going back home. We were on the last leg when we found you."

"I take it adults… uh, full-growns watching over them is minimal?"

"It's how we prove we're responsible enough, that we're ready to be full 'prentices," Morrigan told her. "The adults only step in if there's a real danger to us. Those who-"

"I'm sure Brites doesn't need to hear the whole explanation, Morrigan," Nareena interrupted.

Morrigan inclined her head, but then spoke to Brites. "You and your girl both look to be skin and bones. We have plenty of food, and better clothes than those rags you had on, if you wish it."

"I would gladly accept, but I've no money to pay," Brites said, her tone cautious.

"Pay? Who said anything about paying?" Morrigan answered. The girl had a kind smile. "Lady Ellis commands that we be kind, and show mercy to those in need, after all."

Another name they seem to think I should know. "I must ask… who are these people you keep mentioning? Lynael? Ellis?"

Both the woman and the girl jumped a hand or so. "They are two of the Ladies who, along with their Lords, govern the world," Nareena said after a moment. "You mean to say you know not their names? Ellis is the Mother, Lady of mercy, beauty, music. Lynael is She who governs the dead, and death in general."

Pagan gods, Brites finally realized. She made an over-dramatic 'oh' sound and smacked her own forehead. "They have different names from whence I come, but mean the same."

Nareena's shoulders relaxed a hair, though she still did not smile. "Perhaps, one day, you and I could sit and talk about the Lords and Ladies of your land versus those of ours," she offered.

I have no intention of sticking around that long, Brites thought to herself. "Perhaps, one day," she answered aloud with a small smile.

"Come. Have a towel, and get dressed. The men will want to move out soon. You know how they get when they don't get their way the instant they want it, I'm sure."

"Moody, broody, pouty little boys with beards, I'm sure," Brites said, rising. Several of the girls, and the only other woman, snickered and giggled at her joke.

While it didn't take long for her to dress in a spare set of Nareena's clothes, talking with her, and the other friendly girls in the caravan proved the most fun she'd had in years. Somehow, not a one of them asked about the scars on her back.