Maia X: The Sewing Circle
A cool wind blowing east along the river brushed past my face and had the red leaves above me rustling softly. It carried the scents of the forest and the village, crisp cool air smelling of evergreens and comforting woodsmoke. A quiet chatter drifted up to my ears from below, punctuated by the cracking of wood against wood as Ygdis and Grenwin sparred on the other side of the settlement.
Standing before the heart-tree's face, I traced my fingers along the smooth bark of the cheeks, watching thick crimson sap leaking a slow, constant drip from the eyes. Trails of it ran down to the face's chin, joined by a third rivulet that drooled from the corner of the mouth, and fell across the front of the pale tree to pool and congeal in hollows formed by the great roots.
It seemed to me that the tree had risen over time, forming a hillock as the roots pushed up out of the earth. From this vantage, I could see clear out over the village and across the clearcut to the tree line and over the river, glimmering in the sunlight. This land felt pristine, despite the dilapidated state of much of the settlement.
I couldn't say I felt the same way. My body still ached, the joints of my fingers and toes dully painful to move, though the cough seems to have subsided through the night. I was grateful for that; I could hide physical discomfort, but I'd not quite gotten a hang of using the nanites to suppress my coughing and I didn't want the others to think I was sick with something they might catch.
Mentally… I wasn't sure where I was. I felt unmoored, drifting from here to there after our morning run around the village. Misa had joined us today and I'd noted thoughtful glances from the others as we'd passed, and I was hoping that more would come. Pleasant as the exercise had been, it hadn't calmed the tempest within as much as I'd expected.
I remembered that I'd used working out as a means to process the stress of the Morioka patriarch's expectations for me, at home and in school. It had helped quite a bit, and I was seriously considering trying to assemble some basic gym equipment so I could get back into the half-recalled groove. It had worked then and I was hoping it would work now. If not, I wasn't sure what I would do.
I needed some way to process all that was happening. I needed time to settle myself, to build a new life out of the psychological rubble of the old. I thought myself a seed that could grow into so many outcomes, too many to count, far too many to concern myself over. I knew I had to care for myself or I'd become a twisted mess, both from personal experience and from the gifted knowledge of the lights.
I did have something of a foundation, thankfully. I had my ethics, I had my new friends, I had this village of people, and I had a whole world to explore. That last thought inspired a thrum of excitement in my breast, the bright joy of discovery. It was the very same feeling my first brush with saidar had inspired. That was why I was here, now, standing by the heart-tree and examining this strange organism and the village that had grown around it.
Grenwin had said I could tell the difference between a heart tree shaped by the singers, whoever they were, and the hands of men by the bark of the face. This face was smooth, as though the face had simply grown as a natural part of the tree. I wondered which came first, the weirwood or the village, though I was leaning towards the tree being an original feature that people later settled around. I had no means to gauge the age of a weirwood, but I could estimate how old the buildings around were.
The most ancient buildings were closest to the heart tree, bearing a markedly more advanced construction than those built further out. The chief's cabin was one of those, as was the hall, old enough that the weirwood's roots had grown around them as the tree rose over the ages. They had stone foundations, blocks of cut dolomite of an even older strata than the wooden structures built atop them. These buildings could be centuries, maybe millennia, old, preserved by constant occupation and the climate.
Just further out were the peaked earth-roofed homes and long huts built over bare packed dirt. Those floors had been used actively for long enough that they had been worn smooth, pelts laid down over them for warmth. Old as those structures were, they were quite different in overall construction, both younger and less advanced than those at the center.
Around the outskirts of the village, the buildings were no longer covered in earth, relying on stacked logs and wattle and daub construction, with roofs of wide fir boughs piled high. Many of those, while much younger, were in far worse condition. These seemed to have been built in the last century. If I had to guess, the population had boomed long enough for the new construction to be needed, a little golden age that had faded and left only these eighteen people.
Nineteen, now. I had to remember to count myself among them. Things were looking up after last night. Superstitious as these folks seemed, I had to grant that something strange had happened after I'd given that oath.
I'd never felt so scrutinized before, as though something unimaginably vast and powerful had me under a microscope. It had taken everything I could muster to speak through that sensation. Even just remembering the feeling made gooseflesh rise along my arms. Once that wind had blown, the intensity had faded some, but I still felt like I was being watched. Even now, I could feel the gaze of unseen watchers.
Part of that, I reckoned, had to do with skinchanging. I'd never even considered such a thing was possible, but that owl had reacted to Grenwin's speech in a very human way, and both Grenwin and Ygdis accepted the phenomena as fact. Knowing that it was possible for one mind to touch another, violate another, helped me put what the sword had done to me into context.
The cold spot still pulsed quietly at the edge of my mind, just beyond the limits of my thoughts. I assumed the woman on the other side of that connection was actively listening to my internal monologue, and that she was the source of this feeling of being observed. Though, if she was listening, she gave no sign that I could tell.
I might be compromised, but Grenwin had said I could recover from this, and I clung to that promise. I was still upset with Ygdis, though; what she'd said last night felt almost a dismissal of the depth of the violation I'd experienced. Grenwin understood, though, I could tell by the horror on her face and the way she'd paled when I'd told her what had happened.
Lowering my hand from the smooth face, I turned about and began pacing on the little platform of earth here, the occasional shaft of sunlight making it through the canopy above to dapple the ground alongside shadows tinted red by the leaves. My new boots felt almost like extensions of my feet as I padded across the ground for a couple of paces, coming up to one massive pale root before turning in the other direction. Moving helped get my thoughts in motion, I've been finding, and I was quite eager to continue working with the spear.
I found myself inexplicably drawn towards the Ice Wife. I reckoned a good portion of that was due to Grenwin being my first and closest friend here. She had so many interesting stories, too, and almost everything she said was like a little window into a life unlike anything I'd ever known. I wanted to know more about her, to understand the real person under the armor she put up around everyone aside from Ygdis and me. I had to admit, though, there was certainly an element of physical attraction, as well.
Grenwin clearly put a great amount of care into maintaining herself. Her limbs were well-toned and I was growing to enjoy the firm strength she used with me, and the muscles along her belly were defined in a way I inexplicably found absolutely delightful. Despite the broadness of her shoulders and her height, she was more lithe under the bulk of her parka than I'd expected, as though she'd trained all her life to be as fast and strong as possible. That tracked, with everything she'd told me and all the context clues I'd gathered about the harshness of her upbringing.
A little white owl fluttered up from the village, hooting as it alighted on one of the sitting roots. It watched me with large yellow eyes, clacking its small black beak once.
An unpleasant tingle ran down my spine as I had to remind myself a person was watching me through those avian eyes. Insane as it sounded, this was fairly convincing evidence for magic. Or, maybe, this was a kind of telepathy, which might be facilitated by some factor I know nothing about. The ravens I'd been seeing could also be skinchanged, as that would neatly explain how they could speak and their fascination with me. After a nod and a forced smile, I tried to ignore the cute creature while I worked through my thoughts towards Grenwin.
She was just so… Well, she was tall, and I found I liked that. And she was so strong, not just her toned physique, but from all the little hints and clues I've been piecing together, she's been through some truly awful things in her life and still came out of that a kind and compassionate person. She was a better woman than I, I felt, remaining whole and unbroken without letting her past warp her into a monster. It would be so easy for her to simply take power here for herself, but she seemed content with her position. There was a kind of humility there that I really ought to try learning from, given how highly respected she seemed to be by the others; more and more I realized my proposition to her, that I should name myself any kind of queen, had been hasty, ill-informed, and deeply foolish. I was grateful that she'd only laughed at me.
I'd also caught Grenwin looking at me lately. Glances when she thought I wouldn't notice or wasn't looking, shifting her body to face me when we sat together at the evening meals, and her hands had lingered a little too long during training yesterday whenever she adjusted my movements or my posture. I felt she had some interest in me, but she deserved someone better. Someone as unbroken and strong and kind as she, not a weak wretch like me. Still, I liked the attention, the memory of her rough, calloused fingers gently wrapped around my wrists and showing me the proper movements to make coming to mind and inflaming the warmth in my breast.
I needed to talk to her about this… Infatuation. It was just attraction, I thought. I didn't know her well enough, didn't even know myself well enough, to want any kind of romantic relationship right now. It had only been a week! A very eventful week, I had to admit, where all my assumptions of the world had been torn away and left me reeling, and where Grenwin was there to lend a strong shoulder to cry on, and a place to sleep safely, and to listen to my increasingly nonsensical babbling…
Groaning, I turned to sit on the root next to the owl. It hopped over to settle on my knee, gripping the plain cotton of my skirts with its talons and looking up at me with large eyes. Filling my lungs with a deep breath of cold air, I held it for a moment before exhaling in a long sigh.
"I have a crush," I admitted to the owl, "And I don't think it's good. With everything else happening, especially in here," I knocked a knuckle against the side of my head for emphasis, "This is the last thing I need."
The snowy bird tilted its head and hopped across to my other leg. One talon tapped my hand as if to request me to continue.
"I mean, it's not surprising, when I think about it. I've been all broken up inside ever since I woke up here, and she was literally the first person I'd spoken to, the first person to give me a chance, the first person I really had any attachment to. It's not my fault that she's so…" I lifted a hand and grasped at the air, words failing me. "I don't want to put her on a pedestal. It's just, she's strong, and resilient, and warm and kind, all the things I'm not, but want to be."
Putting it out there like that helped me make more sense of it. Despite the embarrassment curling in my stomach, my limbs felt light and energized, as though voicing that had liberated me of something weighing me down.
The owl bobbed its head, as though nodding.
"Hey, uh, I know you're a person in there," I said awkwardly, feeling foolish, "May I, ah, pet you?"
The bird bobbed its head again and bopped my fingers with its beak. Taking that as permission, I lifted that hand and tentatively stroked the soft feathers atop its head. The owl was surprisingly warm under my fingertips and I found the sensation soothing.
"Thank you. I need to talk to her about this, clear the air. I can't have a romantic relationship, not until I'm better. How could I ever be an equal partner with all of these things going on with me? I'd only pile on more and more stress on her, and I don't care if she's strong enough for that, it's unfair to her for me to make my problems her problems. Besides, I'd never be able to match her physically, not like Ygdis can."
Remembering the way the two women fought the day before, the speed and grace and power they displayed, still left me awestruck. I didn't think I'd ever be able to do that, ever be able to provoke the sheer joy I'd seen in Grenwin during that fight.
"Stupid feelings," I sniffled, scrubbing my watering eyes with a fist. "Look, you get it, right? I want to be the best friend to her I can be, I think I can do that, at least. I just can't do a relationship."
Hooting softly, the owl nibbled at the side of my hand.
"Thanks for listening, ah, Ellir. I think I'd like to meet you face to face, sometime."
The owl nodded quickly, focusing on my eyes. A talon tapped my leg several times.
"You… Oh, you want me to come see you?"
Another nod and an affirming hoot.
Tilting my head at it, I considered. "Give me a little time here, first. I was told I should make nice with some people and I'd like to work on that before heading anywhere else. I think I'd also like to find a couple of people willing to come with and show me the way, safety in numbers and all."
The bird held my eyes for a long moment before clacking its beak and bobbing its head again. With a final preen under my fingers, it hopped up onto my arm and then to my shoulder, where it nibbled at my ear as I scratched the side of its head.
"Yeah, alright, I guess you're keeping an eye on me. I'd do the same, I think," I offered the bird, who chortled in what I guessed was an owl laugh and bobbed its head.
With a quick flutter, the owl took to the air, rising to rest on the heart tree's lower branches, looking down at me.
Down by the central fire, a small gathering had begun. Inella and Misa were carrying over baskets while stout Gudrid fed the flames chopped firewood, gray-haired Luta and slender Hild clearing away ashes and burnt-down coals with long-handled tools. A pile of hide and fur had been set on one of the benches and Frerthe appeared from a nearby home carrying more in her arms, moving to add to the growing pile.
Standing from my perch, I made my way down to them. I didn't see any of the men around, though I'd spotted Teagj and Dagmoor headed up the river trail earlier this morning. Herrick, Symon, and Wyck had taken the boys by the river itself, where they were testing looted and reconstructed crossbows on various targets.
I could heal Symon's missing foot, I realized as I took a few steps down the path. I needed to ask him about that soon. I wasn't sure what the response would be, but I was hoping he'd be willing to let me try. Later, though.
Ygdis had said I'd needed to make nice with some of these women. I ought to try, given the opportunity presenting itself.
Calling out as I walked down the short path, "Good morning! What are we doing today?"
The reactions of the women were varied. Misa perked up, waving to me with a wide smile. Inella studied me with a smaller smile, more calculating yet still with a degree of warmth to it. Luta eyed me with only a little less wariness than the day before, shoveling ashes into another basket without looking away. Hild's lips curved up to an uncomfortable smile, her eyes widening and flicking between Luta and Frerthe. For her part, Frerthe stood tall and set her fists against her hips, staring me down as though I might suddenly sprout a second head. Gudrid nodded to me without paying much mind, more concerned with the state of the fire than my approach.
"We're going to sew in the sun while we can," Misa announced brightly. "This weather won't hold forever."
"Are you to join us?" Luta asked with a tone suggesting she'd not be surprised if I declined.
I nodded, putting on a bright smile. "Yes, please, if that's-"
"She's not the right," Frerthe put in, interrupting me. My eyes flicked toward her for a moment before focusing back on Luta.
Luta's lips pulled down in a tight frown as she looked at the rosy-cheeked woman. "And what right have you to decide for others? I say she may join us today."
Frerthe sniffed and crossed her arms, "And I say she's unwelcome here."
Hild looked between them, face drawn in uncertainty. She remained silent, though, seeming the kind of person to see where the winds were blowing before taking a side.
Misa laughed, shaking her head at Frerthe, "I thought we needed every hand willing to work? You'll be glad for the help, just you see."
"Maia," Inella began a question, "Have you needle and thread?"
Nodding to her, I pointed at the hall and the portal still set into the wooden exterior wall. "I do, in there. What do you suggest I bring?"
She rattled off a list, of needles, awls, bobbins of sinew, patches of hide and boiled leather, and a knife to cut with.
I moved away as an argument began between Frerthe and Luta, Misa clearly enjoying fanning the flames there. Raised voices followed me into my workspace, indistinct as I gathered up everything on the list and stuck it all in a small wooden box for easy transport. After a moment's hesitation, I headed over to the fabricator and ordered a few short bolts of hare leather; I had an impulse to offer to make gloves for the others. Nobody would refuse a pair of gloves, I was sure of it. My small effort would mean their hands would be safe from the cold and protected with a little bit of flexible armoring.
I had designs on thin stockings, thermal underwear, and other light and tight-fitting garments. I hoped to learn their methods of sewing so I could make their traditional outfits for whatever occasions they wanted or needed. If I could make enough clothing and if it became popular, every article would be one more protective layer between them and the climate, and a last-ditch defense from a knife in the back, and hopefully, a bolt to the chest.
My fingers clutched the smooth wood of the box, joints aching from the strain. I was going to make sure Grenwin had access to everything I could offer, including symbiotic medical nano-colonies and various nano-augmentations to support her muscles and organs. She'd come far too close to falling apart faster than I could save, even with the transfusion of my blood. Never again.
I wouldn't allow it.
When I returned to the fire, Frerthe was sitting red-faced on one of the benches, a look of infuriated shame on her features as she clenched her fists on her knees.
Luta, by contrast, appeared unruffled. She motioned me over and took the box from me, poking through the contents while muttering to herself. "Well," Luta announced, "It seems she can listen." Her tone was dry, with a mild surprise as though she'd not expected that bare minimum from me. She thrust the box back into my hands and pointed at the bench next to Frerthe, "Sit, girl."
"'Course she can listen, Luta," Misa said as I moved to sit next to the furious woman, "She's got ears, hasn't she?"
Frerthe sat stiff-backed and trembling beside me and I made sure to keep a fair distance. She was very carefully not looking at me, watching the fire with hard eyes and furrowed brows.
A bemused expression crossed Luta's features before she covered it up with a thin-lipped smile, shaking her head. "You'll find that has very little to do with listening, Misa. You might be able to learn a thing or two if you pay close attention."
"Oh, really?" Misa looked eagerly at Luta for a second before blinking and frowning. "Oh."
Inella gave her daughter a pat on the shoulder, passing her a small hide bundle. "Go on, get started. I'll find Sigrid, wherever she's run off to."
"You'll find her sleeping, like as not," Gudrid said with good humor, the first words I've heard from her this morning. "She was on watch early this morn."
"Oh, we'll give her something light to work on," Inella chuckled as she turned and walked away down the shade-dappled snowy street.
Misa walked around the fire to sit on my other side, humming to herself as she unrolled her bundle to reveal a collection of well-tended sewing tools. Most looked to be carved from bone, with needles ranging in size from small and fine to heavy, thick awls. There was a pair of long-handled copper knives, both with short blades no longer than the tips of my index fingers, and several spools of thread, some cured sinew, others rough-spun wool.
Leaning forward, Misa looked past me towards Frerthe. "Pass me something, will you?"
Frerthe's slim shoulders jolted and she turned to look at Misa, shaking her head as though to clear it. Her light brown irises flicked towards me, the stress lines at the corners of her eyes furrowing slightly more, and then she nodded to Misa. Reaching over to the pile of clothing, she pulled something off the top, then withdrew small patches of hide from a basket near her booted feet and passed the lot over.
"Thank you," Misa said as she happily accepted the bundle, setting aside the patches. It was a parka, I noted as Misa lifted it by the shoulders and inspected the small holes spotted across the front.
From the slavers' bolts, I realized with a start. I might have healed the physical injuries, but I'd forgotten that the clothes would need mending after the fact.
"Might be we finish this today," Gudrid declared as she sat on a nearby bench with a satisfied sigh, stretching her legs as she reclined. "Hild?"
Hild looked Gudrid's way for a moment before nodding, taking part of the piled clothes and settling them in the crook of her elbow, adding a handful of patches atop. Hand pressed securely to the bundle, she sat next to Gudrid and arranged a small pile between them. "Gudrid, you have the kit?"
Gudrid frowned, patting at her sides without shifting her posture. "Think I do. Lessee…" After a moment, she found what she was looking for, passing Hild a small wrapped bundle from a belt pouch. "You remembered to put everything back the way it was, yea?"
"'Course I did," Hild sniffed, rolling her eyes as she took the bundle and unwrapped it in her lap.
The two began a quiet conversation as they worked together, tossing friendly barbs at one another. They were twins, I realized, though Hild wore her dark hair in a single long braid while Gudrid bound hers up over her head in a great bun.
I caught a small smile quirking Luta's thin lips at the corners. When she saw me looking, her eyes flicked down to my empty hands and the smile vanished. Swiftly, she strode over to the pile of clothes and searched through them, carefully inspecting them as though looking for something specific. Finally, she lifted a parka, a long and ragged tear in the hide running down the back of it. It looked like a claw had torn through the treated skin.
"You will mend this, if you can," Luta stated, dropping the damaged parka in my lap.
Nodding to her, I shifted to more closely examine the tear. It wouldn't be too difficult to sew up, just time-consuming, and it didn't seem to have any of the material missing, so I'd not need to patch it. Reaching into my box of supplies, I hesitated, a thought coming to mind. Turning to Frerthe, I saw another opportunity.
"Frerthe," I asked, causing the thin woman to jerk in surprise and look at me with wary eyes; from her posture, she seemed just about ready to run. I couldn't help but wince a little at the fearful reaction. She seemed terrified. "Could you show me the kind of stitch I ought to use for this?"
She worked her narrow jaw, brushing her curly brown hair out of her face. Doubt flickered on her features, then she nodded, "Give that over, then."
Passing it over to her, I leaned down and picked up my box, resting it on my lap. As I did so, I glanced at Luta, now sitting herself and watching us with curiosity.
Frerthe eyed me momentarily before examining the damaged garment, turning it inside-out. Grunting as she poked fingers through the rip, she leaned over to look through my box, eyes widening in momentary surprise. Covering it quickly under a determined grimace, she poked around the supplies for a moment before withdrawing a large needle and a bobbin of thick-threaded sinew. With practiced ease, she threaded the needle, then lifted the bottom of the tear to display it.
"A tear like this needs a strong stitch," Frerthe said with a tone of instruction as she casually poked the needle through the hide. "Watch close. I'll only do this once."
"Thank you!" The gratitude I felt came through clear in my voice. I felt it was another consequence of my latest set of lights, though not an unwelcome one. I would rather make my feelings known than hide them, at least here, while trying to ingratiate myself with these women. Peering closely, I followed the course of her needle with my eyes, catching onto the pattern she used after a moment.
She worked for a moment longer, then passed it over to me. "You try, now."
Nodding with a smile, I took up the needle and tried to match what I'd seen her do. I felt confident, then heard her grunt beside me.
"Not like that. Take the needle under that stitch, not over." Frerthe corrected sharply.
Pulling the thread and needle back out, I fixed the mistake, glancing at her. "Like this?"
She nodded, her shoulders easing a little. "Like that."
As I worked my way up the rip, I hummed along to Misa's tune. Glancing at Frerthe every so often, I was glad to see her hands busy with her own sewing, though she still checked over my mending.
The clattering of wood cracking against wood echoed in the air under the heart-tree's red canopy. Inella returned with a drowsy Sigrid in tow. They sat next to Hild, Sigrid yawning and crossing her arms as she settled.
"I'm sorry I make you uncomfortable," I quietly apologized to Frerthe, catching the way her hands momentarily paused, needle half-through leather.
"Symon says you come from a city of winged men in some far-off land called Yi-Ti. Is he right?" She asked the question softly, yet there was a sharpness to her that spoke a warning to me.
Yi-Ti? He'd mentioned something about Yi-Tish when I'd spoken to him. Thinking hard, I found a hazy feeling of contempt attached to the name. Surely, that meant I had some connection to that place, even if I couldn't remember any specifics.
Meeting Frerthe's eyes, I nodded. "That sounds close, I think. Trying to remember is like grasping at smoke between my fingers, but I felt something when you asked that." Trying a smile, I asked, "Were you born here, or did you come to First Fork and want to stay, too?"
Frerthe's needle started moving again as she looked back at her work, her shoulders easing further. "I was born here. I've lived in First Fork all my life."
"What was it like?"
"There used to be more o' us," Misa said from my other side. "So many that all the village was packed full. That's what my Ma says, she was a girl during the good times."
"Aye, I remember those days," Frerthe said wistfully. "Raumir Redtail was chief when I was born, and he made a fine chief 'till Boudeca sent him to join the gods. She made a fine chieftess after him, though she was a stranger."
"Boudeca was no stranger to us," Luta said sharply, expression sternly focused on Frerthe.
Pursing her lips, Frerthe nodded. "Aye." A sigh, "Aye, she was no stranger." Frerthe's eyes flicked towards me before she told Luta, "You knew her better than the rest of us. You and Teagj and Dagmoor. To me, she was always…" She gestured vaguely with her needle, "Well, with the Redtail, I knew what he was about. Boudeca was different."
"Who are we talking about?" I asked, confused by the new names. Prior leaders of First Fork, I could guess, and that this Boudeca killed Raumir.
"Ygdis's Ma," Misa informed me, "The greatest chieftess First Fork has ever known."
"Aye," Luta nodded at Misa, "Boudeca was a good friend and mentor. She trained Teagj to follow her, and now that fool girl thinks to challenge him. Phaw!" Luta spat on the bare earth near the fire, face thunderous with frustration and anger.
"Wait, Ygdis is challenging Teagj?"
All eyes turned to me.
"You didn't know?" Luta asked quietly, tilting her head. "Ygdis was to teach you our ways. She must have said something o' it. Or Grenwin, she was there when the girl laid claim to Boudeca's legacy."
Shaking my head, I wore my confusion openly. "No, neither of them said anything about that." For some reason, I'd never considered Grenwin or Ygdis might conceal something from me; the realization that they had hurt, an ache of wounded trust at the base of my throat. "Why is she, ah, laying claim now? When are they fighting?"
"I hoped you might know," Misa said.
"They'll fight soon, like as not. Tomorrow, or maybe the next day." Luta suggested. Murmurs of agreement met her supposition.
"I'll stay ready, then. Ellir wants to see me but I'll wait until after the fight before leaving."
"You're going to see the Witch of Antler Point?!" Misa asked with excitement, grabbing my shoulders and turning me to face her eager expression. "May I come with?"
"Misa!" Inella said sharply. "It is dangerous to travel these days. You will stay here, where it is safe."
"I'll be safest with Maia!" Misa retorted.
The other women sat back and watched, seemingly content to observe.
Coughing lightly, I noted, "I was thinking of asking Grenwin to come with me." Turning my eyes to Inella, I caught hers. "If she agrees, would it be alright for Misa to join us? Safety in numbers and all that."
Misa nodded excitedly beside me. "Yea, Ma, if Gren comes with, there's no worry, right?"
Inella thought for a moment before sighing with a resigned expression and nodding. "Very well." Turning her eyes to me, "You best see her home safe or I'll make a trophy o' your wings"
"I swear it," I told her honestly. "I don't want Misa to come to harm any more than you do."
Inella nodded, "Good."
Luta glanced at Misa before shaking her head and sighing. "As for why Ygdis challenged Teagj, we swore to Boudeca to raise Ygdis as any other, to let her find her own path away from her mother. It seems she blames Teagj for that. These ten years have been hard on us all and I fear they have worn harder on her. I had thought that Grenwin's influence was helping Ygdis, yet now I feel it's only given her the means to seek vengeance."
Misa's mood soured at Luta's words, glaring at her sewing as she jabbed the needle through.
Inella grimaced. "Teagj has led us well enough. What was she thinking? If she loses, she's bound to feel humiliated and do worse in the future. If she wins, we'll be headed by a hotheaded warrior." Groaning, she rested her face in her hands. "We shouldn't shed the blood of our fellows. It is not right."
Somber nods met Inella's declaration.
"Is she…" I frowned, trailing off as I thought. "She isn't going to try to kill him, is she? Or, he's not going to try to kill her, right?"
Sharp glances turned my way. After a moment, Luta said, "Teagj won't harm her overmuch. He is bound to bruise her some, but that is all. It is Ygdis I am concerned for. I do not think she wants to see Teagj dead, but anything can happen during a fight."
"I, ah, I can heal him, both of them, if something bad happens." I offered, prompting considering looks to pass between Luta and the others.
"Please, do so," Luta told me.
"Aye," Hild and Gudrid said in unison, the former adding, "We still need Teagj," the latter supplementing with, "He might be a bully, but he's been a fine enough chief."
"You swear it?" Frerthe asked, looking at me with tight eyes.
Nodding to her, I reached up and gave her a pat on the shoulder. "I swear to heal either or both of them after the fight if they need it."
The tension in Frerthe's face drained out of her, leaving weary gratitude behind. "My thanks, Maia."
"Whatever I can do to help." It was a relief that she was gracious enough to put her entirely reasonable fear of me aside when it came to the health of the others. I was getting the strong impression none of these women were very eager to watch the two fight. My promise seemed to grant them some relief, though Misa still stabbed through a leather patch and the parka beneath.
She yelped, drawing her hand back and sticking a bleeding thumb into her mouth. A look of hurt and betrayal came across her face as she regarded the aged bone needle held in shaking fingers, tip stained red.
"May I?" I offered, hovering a hand halfway to her shoulder.
Brown curls spilled down Misa's shoulders as she nodded, shoulders hunched together. She was tilting over an emotional cliff, I thought, showing much the same as I felt I went through often enough.
Scooting closer, I turned and pulled her into a tight hug. I healed her thumb in a moment; it was only a minor wound but had hurt something fierce judging by the overactive pain receptors caught in the path of the needle. Then, I held fast, face buried in the soft fox fur over her shoulder as she shuddered once and took a deep, shaky breath.
Misa sniffled, leaning into me. "I hate when she does this," she said bitterly into the quiet around the fire, "She latches onto something, and then it becomes the most important thing to her, and gods forbid she thinks of what might happen to us. Was Boudeca this way, Luta? Or is this from Redtail?"
"Oh, Misa," Luta said softly, leaning over her knees to meet Misa's eyes. "Ygdis gained that from both. Boudeca, she…" Pursing her lips, Luta frowned, as though unsure.
"She was worse," Inella spoke scornfully, receiving a glance from Luta that she met with a disapproving frown."Ten years, she said, she could spare for her daughter. Not waiting till Ygdis was full grown or after she'd passed on everything the girl needed from her mother. No, ten years and ten years only, for her and her-"
"Inella, enough!" Luta cut in, standing, voice sharp and ringing in the ensuing silence. She looked taken aback, eyes widening as they flicked between Hild and Gudrid's intently curious faces and Misa, who sniffled, and I. After a long, uncomfortable moment, she sighed, shoulders slumping and looking at her hands. "These are not our secrets to share. Even you agreed."
"That was before I had Misa!" Inella gestured at her daughter, "She is the light o' my life! I would die for her, Luta!" Her voice rose to a shout, "Can you say that Boudeca would do the same for Ygdis, or would she only for her precious-"
"Enough!" Luta shouted, surging to her feet and stalking two paces towards Inella, finger brandished like a dagger at her. "Say no more o' this, or I will-"
"You will what?!" Inella shrieked, leaping to her feet and raising a fist at Luta. "Keep hiding this from my daughter? Hiding this from her own daughter?"
"We swore-!" Luta tried to put in, only for Inella to get right in her face, shoulders squared and eyes ablaze.
Violence was imminent, Inella's fist cocking as she prepared to strike Luta.
Releasing Misa, I raised my fingers to my mouth and whistled. The shrill sound cut through the argument, causing Misa and Frerthe to cover their ears and everyone else to whip their heads toward me. Inella and Luta both paused, wincing from the noise and turning their anger my way. Trying to mediate, I tried suggesting a third option for them.
"Whatever you two are talking about, go talk about it in private. If this secret, whatever it is, is important enough to fight over, the two of you ought to figure this out without worrying about being overheard."
Luta nodded sharply to me before turning to Inella, "She speaks sense. Come, let us settle this elsewhere."
Pursing her lips, Inella's face was still furious as she let her fist relax. "Fine." She grabbed Luta's arm and hauled her away towards Teagj's cabin. They entered and the door slammed behind them.
"'M sorry," Misa mumbled beside me. "I didn't want that."
"Don't you think this is your doing," Gudrid said with reassurance, "This is an old argument."
"Yeah," I agreed, squeezing Misa's shoulder. "You did nothing wrong, alright?"
Misa turned her red-rimmed eyes towards me, tears staining her cheeks. She nodded slowly, lip quivering.
"Oh dear," I mumbled, reaching up and wiping them away with a thumb, then I pulled her into another hug. She held tight to me, shuddering. "All will be well and all will be well, and all manner of things will be well," I soothed.
Hild spoke a question, "What were they about to fight over?"
"Not sure m'self," Gudrid replied, "They don't often speak of it."
"I thought Boudeca was dead," Sigrid added quietly. "Ten years, Inella said? Ten years for what? Is she still out there? Did she… Abandon Ygdis?" There was quiet horror in her voice, as though the notion itself tainted whatever view of the woman Sigrid had held before.
Beside me, Frerthe was deeply focused on her stitching. It hardly seemed she was listening at all, save the small glances I noticed her giving the others. Odd.
"She's gone either way," Gudrid said with a melancholic shake of her head.
"Ygdis should know," Misa spoke clearly into the thoughtful quiet. "What else are they hiding from us?"
"Bah, they've led First Fork well enough," Hild replied, "They hide what they think they need to. Five years on, I reckon we'll be told what was what and why."
I felt Misa setting her shoulders stubbornly. "We should know!"
"We will," Gudrid said with an air of appeasement, "This won't last. It never does."
Misa mumbled a few curses, then pushed me away. She turned her attention to me, intent as she asked, "Maia, what was Yi-Ti like?"
"Where I lived, it was cold," I said, hazy recollections of chilly days and colder nights. Vaguely, I remembered gray flakes falling from the sky, gathering in drifts along intricate brickwork paths. "Ash fell from the sky, sometimes. It piled up like the snow does here."
"Why? Where did it come from?" Misa prodded. I thought she was trying to distract herself from unpleasant thoughts.
In my thoughts, I saw pillars of smoke rising to a red-tinged sky, the sun hanging low over an expanse of water. What was burning out there? I couldn't tell. There were so many of them, as though a forest of billowing ashen trees had grown from the water's surface.
"I remember seeing smoke rising all the time from a lot of water," I said with a shrug, "So much of it that the sun looked red. I'm not sure where it came from."
"I'd like to see that one day," Misa said longingly, gaze fixed on an unseen vista. "Do you think you can take me there? I've always wanted to see the world and even Symon thinks that's as far from here as any can go."
A mad, barking laugh burst from my lips. My voice was sharper than I meant it to be, "No! I'm never going back!"
Misa wore a look of wide-eyed surprise. Glancing at the others, I saw much the same on their faces.
"It isn't a good place," I spoke through suddenly dry lips, voice tight and strained. "I belong here, I've decided. I want to teach; that's a purpose I feel like I'm meant for. I don't think I could do that if I ever went back."
Slow nods met that declaration. Misa still looked curious, though she stayed silent as she returned to her mending. Even Frerthe seemed to soften a little, taking my stitching to inspect it.
"Hm, this is good," she declared, spinning the parka to show the others. "I'd say she passed Luta's test."
"Told you," Misa said sullenly.
I gave her a pat on the shoulder, "Don't blame them for doubting. I don't. Most of what I claim to be able to do sounds mad on the face of it, yeah?"
Misa nodded without looking at me.
"Maia's right," Sigrid said past a yawn, prompting nods from the other women.
Frerthe leaned over to the pile of clothing, picking up a few articles and setting them between us. "Here, Maia. Work on these, will you?"
"Sure," I favored her with a smile that grew a little as I saw her own lips quirk up. Taking a pair of breeches, I found a trio of holes along the right leg and set about patching them up.
Minutes of quiet passed before Inella and Luta returned. Both were silent about whatever they decided, though from Inella's frustrated expression, I thought she'd not gained what she wanted from their argument.
Luta inspected my mending and found it satisfactory, only occasionally checking on my work as the minutes stretched on.
Before long, the conversation had started up again in fits and starts. Talk turned to lighter topics, though Luta asked after my sword and whether I was going to take care of it. I said I would. I wasn't sure when I'd be able to face it, but it seemed they wanted it out of sight and mind as soon as possible.
A little while later, I spied Grenwin and Ygdis coming around an old house, the Ice Wife laughing uproariously at some story the copper-haired woman was telling with wild gesticulations. Their faces were red with exertion and sweaty, and neither seemed to notice my waving a greeting as they made their way to Grenwin's home.
That was fine. They were preoccupied; now that I knew Ygdis was training to fight Teagj, her focus made much more sense in hindsight. Still, I'd thought Grenwin might have nodded to me, or at least looked my way. I knew I shouldn't feel any kind of hurt, but that didn't stop the small ache of betrayal from growing a little more.
I still needed to talk to Grenwin, but I found myself unwilling to excuse myself from the sewing circle. Instead of taking action, I sat and stewed in my shame while focusing on the work. I ought to be better than this.
One more thing to work on, I supposed.
Standing before the heart-tree's face, I traced my fingers along the smooth bark of the cheeks, watching thick crimson sap leaking a slow, constant drip from the eyes. Trails of it ran down to the face's chin, joined by a third rivulet that drooled from the corner of the mouth, and fell across the front of the pale tree to pool and congeal in hollows formed by the great roots.
It seemed to me that the tree had risen over time, forming a hillock as the roots pushed up out of the earth. From this vantage, I could see clear out over the village and across the clearcut to the tree line and over the river, glimmering in the sunlight. This land felt pristine, despite the dilapidated state of much of the settlement.
I couldn't say I felt the same way. My body still ached, the joints of my fingers and toes dully painful to move, though the cough seems to have subsided through the night. I was grateful for that; I could hide physical discomfort, but I'd not quite gotten a hang of using the nanites to suppress my coughing and I didn't want the others to think I was sick with something they might catch.
Mentally… I wasn't sure where I was. I felt unmoored, drifting from here to there after our morning run around the village. Misa had joined us today and I'd noted thoughtful glances from the others as we'd passed, and I was hoping that more would come. Pleasant as the exercise had been, it hadn't calmed the tempest within as much as I'd expected.
I remembered that I'd used working out as a means to process the stress of the Morioka patriarch's expectations for me, at home and in school. It had helped quite a bit, and I was seriously considering trying to assemble some basic gym equipment so I could get back into the half-recalled groove. It had worked then and I was hoping it would work now. If not, I wasn't sure what I would do.
I needed some way to process all that was happening. I needed time to settle myself, to build a new life out of the psychological rubble of the old. I thought myself a seed that could grow into so many outcomes, too many to count, far too many to concern myself over. I knew I had to care for myself or I'd become a twisted mess, both from personal experience and from the gifted knowledge of the lights.
I did have something of a foundation, thankfully. I had my ethics, I had my new friends, I had this village of people, and I had a whole world to explore. That last thought inspired a thrum of excitement in my breast, the bright joy of discovery. It was the very same feeling my first brush with saidar had inspired. That was why I was here, now, standing by the heart-tree and examining this strange organism and the village that had grown around it.
Grenwin had said I could tell the difference between a heart tree shaped by the singers, whoever they were, and the hands of men by the bark of the face. This face was smooth, as though the face had simply grown as a natural part of the tree. I wondered which came first, the weirwood or the village, though I was leaning towards the tree being an original feature that people later settled around. I had no means to gauge the age of a weirwood, but I could estimate how old the buildings around were.
The most ancient buildings were closest to the heart tree, bearing a markedly more advanced construction than those built further out. The chief's cabin was one of those, as was the hall, old enough that the weirwood's roots had grown around them as the tree rose over the ages. They had stone foundations, blocks of cut dolomite of an even older strata than the wooden structures built atop them. These buildings could be centuries, maybe millennia, old, preserved by constant occupation and the climate.
Just further out were the peaked earth-roofed homes and long huts built over bare packed dirt. Those floors had been used actively for long enough that they had been worn smooth, pelts laid down over them for warmth. Old as those structures were, they were quite different in overall construction, both younger and less advanced than those at the center.
Around the outskirts of the village, the buildings were no longer covered in earth, relying on stacked logs and wattle and daub construction, with roofs of wide fir boughs piled high. Many of those, while much younger, were in far worse condition. These seemed to have been built in the last century. If I had to guess, the population had boomed long enough for the new construction to be needed, a little golden age that had faded and left only these eighteen people.
Nineteen, now. I had to remember to count myself among them. Things were looking up after last night. Superstitious as these folks seemed, I had to grant that something strange had happened after I'd given that oath.
I'd never felt so scrutinized before, as though something unimaginably vast and powerful had me under a microscope. It had taken everything I could muster to speak through that sensation. Even just remembering the feeling made gooseflesh rise along my arms. Once that wind had blown, the intensity had faded some, but I still felt like I was being watched. Even now, I could feel the gaze of unseen watchers.
Part of that, I reckoned, had to do with skinchanging. I'd never even considered such a thing was possible, but that owl had reacted to Grenwin's speech in a very human way, and both Grenwin and Ygdis accepted the phenomena as fact. Knowing that it was possible for one mind to touch another, violate another, helped me put what the sword had done to me into context.
The cold spot still pulsed quietly at the edge of my mind, just beyond the limits of my thoughts. I assumed the woman on the other side of that connection was actively listening to my internal monologue, and that she was the source of this feeling of being observed. Though, if she was listening, she gave no sign that I could tell.
I might be compromised, but Grenwin had said I could recover from this, and I clung to that promise. I was still upset with Ygdis, though; what she'd said last night felt almost a dismissal of the depth of the violation I'd experienced. Grenwin understood, though, I could tell by the horror on her face and the way she'd paled when I'd told her what had happened.
Lowering my hand from the smooth face, I turned about and began pacing on the little platform of earth here, the occasional shaft of sunlight making it through the canopy above to dapple the ground alongside shadows tinted red by the leaves. My new boots felt almost like extensions of my feet as I padded across the ground for a couple of paces, coming up to one massive pale root before turning in the other direction. Moving helped get my thoughts in motion, I've been finding, and I was quite eager to continue working with the spear.
I found myself inexplicably drawn towards the Ice Wife. I reckoned a good portion of that was due to Grenwin being my first and closest friend here. She had so many interesting stories, too, and almost everything she said was like a little window into a life unlike anything I'd ever known. I wanted to know more about her, to understand the real person under the armor she put up around everyone aside from Ygdis and me. I had to admit, though, there was certainly an element of physical attraction, as well.
Grenwin clearly put a great amount of care into maintaining herself. Her limbs were well-toned and I was growing to enjoy the firm strength she used with me, and the muscles along her belly were defined in a way I inexplicably found absolutely delightful. Despite the broadness of her shoulders and her height, she was more lithe under the bulk of her parka than I'd expected, as though she'd trained all her life to be as fast and strong as possible. That tracked, with everything she'd told me and all the context clues I'd gathered about the harshness of her upbringing.
A little white owl fluttered up from the village, hooting as it alighted on one of the sitting roots. It watched me with large yellow eyes, clacking its small black beak once.
An unpleasant tingle ran down my spine as I had to remind myself a person was watching me through those avian eyes. Insane as it sounded, this was fairly convincing evidence for magic. Or, maybe, this was a kind of telepathy, which might be facilitated by some factor I know nothing about. The ravens I'd been seeing could also be skinchanged, as that would neatly explain how they could speak and their fascination with me. After a nod and a forced smile, I tried to ignore the cute creature while I worked through my thoughts towards Grenwin.
She was just so… Well, she was tall, and I found I liked that. And she was so strong, not just her toned physique, but from all the little hints and clues I've been piecing together, she's been through some truly awful things in her life and still came out of that a kind and compassionate person. She was a better woman than I, I felt, remaining whole and unbroken without letting her past warp her into a monster. It would be so easy for her to simply take power here for herself, but she seemed content with her position. There was a kind of humility there that I really ought to try learning from, given how highly respected she seemed to be by the others; more and more I realized my proposition to her, that I should name myself any kind of queen, had been hasty, ill-informed, and deeply foolish. I was grateful that she'd only laughed at me.
I'd also caught Grenwin looking at me lately. Glances when she thought I wouldn't notice or wasn't looking, shifting her body to face me when we sat together at the evening meals, and her hands had lingered a little too long during training yesterday whenever she adjusted my movements or my posture. I felt she had some interest in me, but she deserved someone better. Someone as unbroken and strong and kind as she, not a weak wretch like me. Still, I liked the attention, the memory of her rough, calloused fingers gently wrapped around my wrists and showing me the proper movements to make coming to mind and inflaming the warmth in my breast.
I needed to talk to her about this… Infatuation. It was just attraction, I thought. I didn't know her well enough, didn't even know myself well enough, to want any kind of romantic relationship right now. It had only been a week! A very eventful week, I had to admit, where all my assumptions of the world had been torn away and left me reeling, and where Grenwin was there to lend a strong shoulder to cry on, and a place to sleep safely, and to listen to my increasingly nonsensical babbling…
Groaning, I turned to sit on the root next to the owl. It hopped over to settle on my knee, gripping the plain cotton of my skirts with its talons and looking up at me with large eyes. Filling my lungs with a deep breath of cold air, I held it for a moment before exhaling in a long sigh.
"I have a crush," I admitted to the owl, "And I don't think it's good. With everything else happening, especially in here," I knocked a knuckle against the side of my head for emphasis, "This is the last thing I need."
The snowy bird tilted its head and hopped across to my other leg. One talon tapped my hand as if to request me to continue.
"I mean, it's not surprising, when I think about it. I've been all broken up inside ever since I woke up here, and she was literally the first person I'd spoken to, the first person to give me a chance, the first person I really had any attachment to. It's not my fault that she's so…" I lifted a hand and grasped at the air, words failing me. "I don't want to put her on a pedestal. It's just, she's strong, and resilient, and warm and kind, all the things I'm not, but want to be."
Putting it out there like that helped me make more sense of it. Despite the embarrassment curling in my stomach, my limbs felt light and energized, as though voicing that had liberated me of something weighing me down.
The owl bobbed its head, as though nodding.
"Hey, uh, I know you're a person in there," I said awkwardly, feeling foolish, "May I, ah, pet you?"
The bird bobbed its head again and bopped my fingers with its beak. Taking that as permission, I lifted that hand and tentatively stroked the soft feathers atop its head. The owl was surprisingly warm under my fingertips and I found the sensation soothing.
"Thank you. I need to talk to her about this, clear the air. I can't have a romantic relationship, not until I'm better. How could I ever be an equal partner with all of these things going on with me? I'd only pile on more and more stress on her, and I don't care if she's strong enough for that, it's unfair to her for me to make my problems her problems. Besides, I'd never be able to match her physically, not like Ygdis can."
Remembering the way the two women fought the day before, the speed and grace and power they displayed, still left me awestruck. I didn't think I'd ever be able to do that, ever be able to provoke the sheer joy I'd seen in Grenwin during that fight.
"Stupid feelings," I sniffled, scrubbing my watering eyes with a fist. "Look, you get it, right? I want to be the best friend to her I can be, I think I can do that, at least. I just can't do a relationship."
Hooting softly, the owl nibbled at the side of my hand.
"Thanks for listening, ah, Ellir. I think I'd like to meet you face to face, sometime."
The owl nodded quickly, focusing on my eyes. A talon tapped my leg several times.
"You… Oh, you want me to come see you?"
Another nod and an affirming hoot.
Tilting my head at it, I considered. "Give me a little time here, first. I was told I should make nice with some people and I'd like to work on that before heading anywhere else. I think I'd also like to find a couple of people willing to come with and show me the way, safety in numbers and all."
The bird held my eyes for a long moment before clacking its beak and bobbing its head again. With a final preen under my fingers, it hopped up onto my arm and then to my shoulder, where it nibbled at my ear as I scratched the side of its head.
"Yeah, alright, I guess you're keeping an eye on me. I'd do the same, I think," I offered the bird, who chortled in what I guessed was an owl laugh and bobbed its head.
With a quick flutter, the owl took to the air, rising to rest on the heart tree's lower branches, looking down at me.
Down by the central fire, a small gathering had begun. Inella and Misa were carrying over baskets while stout Gudrid fed the flames chopped firewood, gray-haired Luta and slender Hild clearing away ashes and burnt-down coals with long-handled tools. A pile of hide and fur had been set on one of the benches and Frerthe appeared from a nearby home carrying more in her arms, moving to add to the growing pile.
Standing from my perch, I made my way down to them. I didn't see any of the men around, though I'd spotted Teagj and Dagmoor headed up the river trail earlier this morning. Herrick, Symon, and Wyck had taken the boys by the river itself, where they were testing looted and reconstructed crossbows on various targets.
I could heal Symon's missing foot, I realized as I took a few steps down the path. I needed to ask him about that soon. I wasn't sure what the response would be, but I was hoping he'd be willing to let me try. Later, though.
Ygdis had said I'd needed to make nice with some of these women. I ought to try, given the opportunity presenting itself.
Calling out as I walked down the short path, "Good morning! What are we doing today?"
The reactions of the women were varied. Misa perked up, waving to me with a wide smile. Inella studied me with a smaller smile, more calculating yet still with a degree of warmth to it. Luta eyed me with only a little less wariness than the day before, shoveling ashes into another basket without looking away. Hild's lips curved up to an uncomfortable smile, her eyes widening and flicking between Luta and Frerthe. For her part, Frerthe stood tall and set her fists against her hips, staring me down as though I might suddenly sprout a second head. Gudrid nodded to me without paying much mind, more concerned with the state of the fire than my approach.
"We're going to sew in the sun while we can," Misa announced brightly. "This weather won't hold forever."
"Are you to join us?" Luta asked with a tone suggesting she'd not be surprised if I declined.
I nodded, putting on a bright smile. "Yes, please, if that's-"
"She's not the right," Frerthe put in, interrupting me. My eyes flicked toward her for a moment before focusing back on Luta.
Luta's lips pulled down in a tight frown as she looked at the rosy-cheeked woman. "And what right have you to decide for others? I say she may join us today."
Frerthe sniffed and crossed her arms, "And I say she's unwelcome here."
Hild looked between them, face drawn in uncertainty. She remained silent, though, seeming the kind of person to see where the winds were blowing before taking a side.
Misa laughed, shaking her head at Frerthe, "I thought we needed every hand willing to work? You'll be glad for the help, just you see."
"Maia," Inella began a question, "Have you needle and thread?"
Nodding to her, I pointed at the hall and the portal still set into the wooden exterior wall. "I do, in there. What do you suggest I bring?"
She rattled off a list, of needles, awls, bobbins of sinew, patches of hide and boiled leather, and a knife to cut with.
I moved away as an argument began between Frerthe and Luta, Misa clearly enjoying fanning the flames there. Raised voices followed me into my workspace, indistinct as I gathered up everything on the list and stuck it all in a small wooden box for easy transport. After a moment's hesitation, I headed over to the fabricator and ordered a few short bolts of hare leather; I had an impulse to offer to make gloves for the others. Nobody would refuse a pair of gloves, I was sure of it. My small effort would mean their hands would be safe from the cold and protected with a little bit of flexible armoring.
I had designs on thin stockings, thermal underwear, and other light and tight-fitting garments. I hoped to learn their methods of sewing so I could make their traditional outfits for whatever occasions they wanted or needed. If I could make enough clothing and if it became popular, every article would be one more protective layer between them and the climate, and a last-ditch defense from a knife in the back, and hopefully, a bolt to the chest.
My fingers clutched the smooth wood of the box, joints aching from the strain. I was going to make sure Grenwin had access to everything I could offer, including symbiotic medical nano-colonies and various nano-augmentations to support her muscles and organs. She'd come far too close to falling apart faster than I could save, even with the transfusion of my blood. Never again.
I wouldn't allow it.
When I returned to the fire, Frerthe was sitting red-faced on one of the benches, a look of infuriated shame on her features as she clenched her fists on her knees.
Luta, by contrast, appeared unruffled. She motioned me over and took the box from me, poking through the contents while muttering to herself. "Well," Luta announced, "It seems she can listen." Her tone was dry, with a mild surprise as though she'd not expected that bare minimum from me. She thrust the box back into my hands and pointed at the bench next to Frerthe, "Sit, girl."
"'Course she can listen, Luta," Misa said as I moved to sit next to the furious woman, "She's got ears, hasn't she?"
Frerthe sat stiff-backed and trembling beside me and I made sure to keep a fair distance. She was very carefully not looking at me, watching the fire with hard eyes and furrowed brows.
A bemused expression crossed Luta's features before she covered it up with a thin-lipped smile, shaking her head. "You'll find that has very little to do with listening, Misa. You might be able to learn a thing or two if you pay close attention."
"Oh, really?" Misa looked eagerly at Luta for a second before blinking and frowning. "Oh."
Inella gave her daughter a pat on the shoulder, passing her a small hide bundle. "Go on, get started. I'll find Sigrid, wherever she's run off to."
"You'll find her sleeping, like as not," Gudrid said with good humor, the first words I've heard from her this morning. "She was on watch early this morn."
"Oh, we'll give her something light to work on," Inella chuckled as she turned and walked away down the shade-dappled snowy street.
Misa walked around the fire to sit on my other side, humming to herself as she unrolled her bundle to reveal a collection of well-tended sewing tools. Most looked to be carved from bone, with needles ranging in size from small and fine to heavy, thick awls. There was a pair of long-handled copper knives, both with short blades no longer than the tips of my index fingers, and several spools of thread, some cured sinew, others rough-spun wool.
Leaning forward, Misa looked past me towards Frerthe. "Pass me something, will you?"
Frerthe's slim shoulders jolted and she turned to look at Misa, shaking her head as though to clear it. Her light brown irises flicked towards me, the stress lines at the corners of her eyes furrowing slightly more, and then she nodded to Misa. Reaching over to the pile of clothing, she pulled something off the top, then withdrew small patches of hide from a basket near her booted feet and passed the lot over.
"Thank you," Misa said as she happily accepted the bundle, setting aside the patches. It was a parka, I noted as Misa lifted it by the shoulders and inspected the small holes spotted across the front.
From the slavers' bolts, I realized with a start. I might have healed the physical injuries, but I'd forgotten that the clothes would need mending after the fact.
"Might be we finish this today," Gudrid declared as she sat on a nearby bench with a satisfied sigh, stretching her legs as she reclined. "Hild?"
Hild looked Gudrid's way for a moment before nodding, taking part of the piled clothes and settling them in the crook of her elbow, adding a handful of patches atop. Hand pressed securely to the bundle, she sat next to Gudrid and arranged a small pile between them. "Gudrid, you have the kit?"
Gudrid frowned, patting at her sides without shifting her posture. "Think I do. Lessee…" After a moment, she found what she was looking for, passing Hild a small wrapped bundle from a belt pouch. "You remembered to put everything back the way it was, yea?"
"'Course I did," Hild sniffed, rolling her eyes as she took the bundle and unwrapped it in her lap.
The two began a quiet conversation as they worked together, tossing friendly barbs at one another. They were twins, I realized, though Hild wore her dark hair in a single long braid while Gudrid bound hers up over her head in a great bun.
I caught a small smile quirking Luta's thin lips at the corners. When she saw me looking, her eyes flicked down to my empty hands and the smile vanished. Swiftly, she strode over to the pile of clothes and searched through them, carefully inspecting them as though looking for something specific. Finally, she lifted a parka, a long and ragged tear in the hide running down the back of it. It looked like a claw had torn through the treated skin.
"You will mend this, if you can," Luta stated, dropping the damaged parka in my lap.
Nodding to her, I shifted to more closely examine the tear. It wouldn't be too difficult to sew up, just time-consuming, and it didn't seem to have any of the material missing, so I'd not need to patch it. Reaching into my box of supplies, I hesitated, a thought coming to mind. Turning to Frerthe, I saw another opportunity.
"Frerthe," I asked, causing the thin woman to jerk in surprise and look at me with wary eyes; from her posture, she seemed just about ready to run. I couldn't help but wince a little at the fearful reaction. She seemed terrified. "Could you show me the kind of stitch I ought to use for this?"
She worked her narrow jaw, brushing her curly brown hair out of her face. Doubt flickered on her features, then she nodded, "Give that over, then."
Passing it over to her, I leaned down and picked up my box, resting it on my lap. As I did so, I glanced at Luta, now sitting herself and watching us with curiosity.
Frerthe eyed me momentarily before examining the damaged garment, turning it inside-out. Grunting as she poked fingers through the rip, she leaned over to look through my box, eyes widening in momentary surprise. Covering it quickly under a determined grimace, she poked around the supplies for a moment before withdrawing a large needle and a bobbin of thick-threaded sinew. With practiced ease, she threaded the needle, then lifted the bottom of the tear to display it.
"A tear like this needs a strong stitch," Frerthe said with a tone of instruction as she casually poked the needle through the hide. "Watch close. I'll only do this once."
"Thank you!" The gratitude I felt came through clear in my voice. I felt it was another consequence of my latest set of lights, though not an unwelcome one. I would rather make my feelings known than hide them, at least here, while trying to ingratiate myself with these women. Peering closely, I followed the course of her needle with my eyes, catching onto the pattern she used after a moment.
She worked for a moment longer, then passed it over to me. "You try, now."
Nodding with a smile, I took up the needle and tried to match what I'd seen her do. I felt confident, then heard her grunt beside me.
"Not like that. Take the needle under that stitch, not over." Frerthe corrected sharply.
Pulling the thread and needle back out, I fixed the mistake, glancing at her. "Like this?"
She nodded, her shoulders easing a little. "Like that."
As I worked my way up the rip, I hummed along to Misa's tune. Glancing at Frerthe every so often, I was glad to see her hands busy with her own sewing, though she still checked over my mending.
The clattering of wood cracking against wood echoed in the air under the heart-tree's red canopy. Inella returned with a drowsy Sigrid in tow. They sat next to Hild, Sigrid yawning and crossing her arms as she settled.
"I'm sorry I make you uncomfortable," I quietly apologized to Frerthe, catching the way her hands momentarily paused, needle half-through leather.
"Symon says you come from a city of winged men in some far-off land called Yi-Ti. Is he right?" She asked the question softly, yet there was a sharpness to her that spoke a warning to me.
Yi-Ti? He'd mentioned something about Yi-Tish when I'd spoken to him. Thinking hard, I found a hazy feeling of contempt attached to the name. Surely, that meant I had some connection to that place, even if I couldn't remember any specifics.
Meeting Frerthe's eyes, I nodded. "That sounds close, I think. Trying to remember is like grasping at smoke between my fingers, but I felt something when you asked that." Trying a smile, I asked, "Were you born here, or did you come to First Fork and want to stay, too?"
Frerthe's needle started moving again as she looked back at her work, her shoulders easing further. "I was born here. I've lived in First Fork all my life."
"What was it like?"
"There used to be more o' us," Misa said from my other side. "So many that all the village was packed full. That's what my Ma says, she was a girl during the good times."
"Aye, I remember those days," Frerthe said wistfully. "Raumir Redtail was chief when I was born, and he made a fine chief 'till Boudeca sent him to join the gods. She made a fine chieftess after him, though she was a stranger."
"Boudeca was no stranger to us," Luta said sharply, expression sternly focused on Frerthe.
Pursing her lips, Frerthe nodded. "Aye." A sigh, "Aye, she was no stranger." Frerthe's eyes flicked towards me before she told Luta, "You knew her better than the rest of us. You and Teagj and Dagmoor. To me, she was always…" She gestured vaguely with her needle, "Well, with the Redtail, I knew what he was about. Boudeca was different."
"Who are we talking about?" I asked, confused by the new names. Prior leaders of First Fork, I could guess, and that this Boudeca killed Raumir.
"Ygdis's Ma," Misa informed me, "The greatest chieftess First Fork has ever known."
"Aye," Luta nodded at Misa, "Boudeca was a good friend and mentor. She trained Teagj to follow her, and now that fool girl thinks to challenge him. Phaw!" Luta spat on the bare earth near the fire, face thunderous with frustration and anger.
"Wait, Ygdis is challenging Teagj?"
All eyes turned to me.
"You didn't know?" Luta asked quietly, tilting her head. "Ygdis was to teach you our ways. She must have said something o' it. Or Grenwin, she was there when the girl laid claim to Boudeca's legacy."
Shaking my head, I wore my confusion openly. "No, neither of them said anything about that." For some reason, I'd never considered Grenwin or Ygdis might conceal something from me; the realization that they had hurt, an ache of wounded trust at the base of my throat. "Why is she, ah, laying claim now? When are they fighting?"
"I hoped you might know," Misa said.
"They'll fight soon, like as not. Tomorrow, or maybe the next day." Luta suggested. Murmurs of agreement met her supposition.
"I'll stay ready, then. Ellir wants to see me but I'll wait until after the fight before leaving."
"You're going to see the Witch of Antler Point?!" Misa asked with excitement, grabbing my shoulders and turning me to face her eager expression. "May I come with?"
"Misa!" Inella said sharply. "It is dangerous to travel these days. You will stay here, where it is safe."
"I'll be safest with Maia!" Misa retorted.
The other women sat back and watched, seemingly content to observe.
Coughing lightly, I noted, "I was thinking of asking Grenwin to come with me." Turning my eyes to Inella, I caught hers. "If she agrees, would it be alright for Misa to join us? Safety in numbers and all that."
Misa nodded excitedly beside me. "Yea, Ma, if Gren comes with, there's no worry, right?"
Inella thought for a moment before sighing with a resigned expression and nodding. "Very well." Turning her eyes to me, "You best see her home safe or I'll make a trophy o' your wings"
"I swear it," I told her honestly. "I don't want Misa to come to harm any more than you do."
Inella nodded, "Good."
Luta glanced at Misa before shaking her head and sighing. "As for why Ygdis challenged Teagj, we swore to Boudeca to raise Ygdis as any other, to let her find her own path away from her mother. It seems she blames Teagj for that. These ten years have been hard on us all and I fear they have worn harder on her. I had thought that Grenwin's influence was helping Ygdis, yet now I feel it's only given her the means to seek vengeance."
Misa's mood soured at Luta's words, glaring at her sewing as she jabbed the needle through.
Inella grimaced. "Teagj has led us well enough. What was she thinking? If she loses, she's bound to feel humiliated and do worse in the future. If she wins, we'll be headed by a hotheaded warrior." Groaning, she rested her face in her hands. "We shouldn't shed the blood of our fellows. It is not right."
Somber nods met Inella's declaration.
"Is she…" I frowned, trailing off as I thought. "She isn't going to try to kill him, is she? Or, he's not going to try to kill her, right?"
Sharp glances turned my way. After a moment, Luta said, "Teagj won't harm her overmuch. He is bound to bruise her some, but that is all. It is Ygdis I am concerned for. I do not think she wants to see Teagj dead, but anything can happen during a fight."
"I, ah, I can heal him, both of them, if something bad happens." I offered, prompting considering looks to pass between Luta and the others.
"Please, do so," Luta told me.
"Aye," Hild and Gudrid said in unison, the former adding, "We still need Teagj," the latter supplementing with, "He might be a bully, but he's been a fine enough chief."
"You swear it?" Frerthe asked, looking at me with tight eyes.
Nodding to her, I reached up and gave her a pat on the shoulder. "I swear to heal either or both of them after the fight if they need it."
The tension in Frerthe's face drained out of her, leaving weary gratitude behind. "My thanks, Maia."
"Whatever I can do to help." It was a relief that she was gracious enough to put her entirely reasonable fear of me aside when it came to the health of the others. I was getting the strong impression none of these women were very eager to watch the two fight. My promise seemed to grant them some relief, though Misa still stabbed through a leather patch and the parka beneath.
She yelped, drawing her hand back and sticking a bleeding thumb into her mouth. A look of hurt and betrayal came across her face as she regarded the aged bone needle held in shaking fingers, tip stained red.
"May I?" I offered, hovering a hand halfway to her shoulder.
Brown curls spilled down Misa's shoulders as she nodded, shoulders hunched together. She was tilting over an emotional cliff, I thought, showing much the same as I felt I went through often enough.
Scooting closer, I turned and pulled her into a tight hug. I healed her thumb in a moment; it was only a minor wound but had hurt something fierce judging by the overactive pain receptors caught in the path of the needle. Then, I held fast, face buried in the soft fox fur over her shoulder as she shuddered once and took a deep, shaky breath.
Misa sniffled, leaning into me. "I hate when she does this," she said bitterly into the quiet around the fire, "She latches onto something, and then it becomes the most important thing to her, and gods forbid she thinks of what might happen to us. Was Boudeca this way, Luta? Or is this from Redtail?"
"Oh, Misa," Luta said softly, leaning over her knees to meet Misa's eyes. "Ygdis gained that from both. Boudeca, she…" Pursing her lips, Luta frowned, as though unsure.
"She was worse," Inella spoke scornfully, receiving a glance from Luta that she met with a disapproving frown."Ten years, she said, she could spare for her daughter. Not waiting till Ygdis was full grown or after she'd passed on everything the girl needed from her mother. No, ten years and ten years only, for her and her-"
"Inella, enough!" Luta cut in, standing, voice sharp and ringing in the ensuing silence. She looked taken aback, eyes widening as they flicked between Hild and Gudrid's intently curious faces and Misa, who sniffled, and I. After a long, uncomfortable moment, she sighed, shoulders slumping and looking at her hands. "These are not our secrets to share. Even you agreed."
"That was before I had Misa!" Inella gestured at her daughter, "She is the light o' my life! I would die for her, Luta!" Her voice rose to a shout, "Can you say that Boudeca would do the same for Ygdis, or would she only for her precious-"
"Enough!" Luta shouted, surging to her feet and stalking two paces towards Inella, finger brandished like a dagger at her. "Say no more o' this, or I will-"
"You will what?!" Inella shrieked, leaping to her feet and raising a fist at Luta. "Keep hiding this from my daughter? Hiding this from her own daughter?"
"We swore-!" Luta tried to put in, only for Inella to get right in her face, shoulders squared and eyes ablaze.
Violence was imminent, Inella's fist cocking as she prepared to strike Luta.
Releasing Misa, I raised my fingers to my mouth and whistled. The shrill sound cut through the argument, causing Misa and Frerthe to cover their ears and everyone else to whip their heads toward me. Inella and Luta both paused, wincing from the noise and turning their anger my way. Trying to mediate, I tried suggesting a third option for them.
"Whatever you two are talking about, go talk about it in private. If this secret, whatever it is, is important enough to fight over, the two of you ought to figure this out without worrying about being overheard."
Luta nodded sharply to me before turning to Inella, "She speaks sense. Come, let us settle this elsewhere."
Pursing her lips, Inella's face was still furious as she let her fist relax. "Fine." She grabbed Luta's arm and hauled her away towards Teagj's cabin. They entered and the door slammed behind them.
"'M sorry," Misa mumbled beside me. "I didn't want that."
"Don't you think this is your doing," Gudrid said with reassurance, "This is an old argument."
"Yeah," I agreed, squeezing Misa's shoulder. "You did nothing wrong, alright?"
Misa turned her red-rimmed eyes towards me, tears staining her cheeks. She nodded slowly, lip quivering.
"Oh dear," I mumbled, reaching up and wiping them away with a thumb, then I pulled her into another hug. She held tight to me, shuddering. "All will be well and all will be well, and all manner of things will be well," I soothed.
Hild spoke a question, "What were they about to fight over?"
"Not sure m'self," Gudrid replied, "They don't often speak of it."
"I thought Boudeca was dead," Sigrid added quietly. "Ten years, Inella said? Ten years for what? Is she still out there? Did she… Abandon Ygdis?" There was quiet horror in her voice, as though the notion itself tainted whatever view of the woman Sigrid had held before.
Beside me, Frerthe was deeply focused on her stitching. It hardly seemed she was listening at all, save the small glances I noticed her giving the others. Odd.
"She's gone either way," Gudrid said with a melancholic shake of her head.
"Ygdis should know," Misa spoke clearly into the thoughtful quiet. "What else are they hiding from us?"
"Bah, they've led First Fork well enough," Hild replied, "They hide what they think they need to. Five years on, I reckon we'll be told what was what and why."
I felt Misa setting her shoulders stubbornly. "We should know!"
"We will," Gudrid said with an air of appeasement, "This won't last. It never does."
Misa mumbled a few curses, then pushed me away. She turned her attention to me, intent as she asked, "Maia, what was Yi-Ti like?"
"Where I lived, it was cold," I said, hazy recollections of chilly days and colder nights. Vaguely, I remembered gray flakes falling from the sky, gathering in drifts along intricate brickwork paths. "Ash fell from the sky, sometimes. It piled up like the snow does here."
"Why? Where did it come from?" Misa prodded. I thought she was trying to distract herself from unpleasant thoughts.
In my thoughts, I saw pillars of smoke rising to a red-tinged sky, the sun hanging low over an expanse of water. What was burning out there? I couldn't tell. There were so many of them, as though a forest of billowing ashen trees had grown from the water's surface.
"I remember seeing smoke rising all the time from a lot of water," I said with a shrug, "So much of it that the sun looked red. I'm not sure where it came from."
"I'd like to see that one day," Misa said longingly, gaze fixed on an unseen vista. "Do you think you can take me there? I've always wanted to see the world and even Symon thinks that's as far from here as any can go."
A mad, barking laugh burst from my lips. My voice was sharper than I meant it to be, "No! I'm never going back!"
Misa wore a look of wide-eyed surprise. Glancing at the others, I saw much the same on their faces.
"It isn't a good place," I spoke through suddenly dry lips, voice tight and strained. "I belong here, I've decided. I want to teach; that's a purpose I feel like I'm meant for. I don't think I could do that if I ever went back."
Slow nods met that declaration. Misa still looked curious, though she stayed silent as she returned to her mending. Even Frerthe seemed to soften a little, taking my stitching to inspect it.
"Hm, this is good," she declared, spinning the parka to show the others. "I'd say she passed Luta's test."
"Told you," Misa said sullenly.
I gave her a pat on the shoulder, "Don't blame them for doubting. I don't. Most of what I claim to be able to do sounds mad on the face of it, yeah?"
Misa nodded without looking at me.
"Maia's right," Sigrid said past a yawn, prompting nods from the other women.
Frerthe leaned over to the pile of clothing, picking up a few articles and setting them between us. "Here, Maia. Work on these, will you?"
"Sure," I favored her with a smile that grew a little as I saw her own lips quirk up. Taking a pair of breeches, I found a trio of holes along the right leg and set about patching them up.
Minutes of quiet passed before Inella and Luta returned. Both were silent about whatever they decided, though from Inella's frustrated expression, I thought she'd not gained what she wanted from their argument.
Luta inspected my mending and found it satisfactory, only occasionally checking on my work as the minutes stretched on.
Before long, the conversation had started up again in fits and starts. Talk turned to lighter topics, though Luta asked after my sword and whether I was going to take care of it. I said I would. I wasn't sure when I'd be able to face it, but it seemed they wanted it out of sight and mind as soon as possible.
A little while later, I spied Grenwin and Ygdis coming around an old house, the Ice Wife laughing uproariously at some story the copper-haired woman was telling with wild gesticulations. Their faces were red with exertion and sweaty, and neither seemed to notice my waving a greeting as they made their way to Grenwin's home.
That was fine. They were preoccupied; now that I knew Ygdis was training to fight Teagj, her focus made much more sense in hindsight. Still, I'd thought Grenwin might have nodded to me, or at least looked my way. I knew I shouldn't feel any kind of hurt, but that didn't stop the small ache of betrayal from growing a little more.
I still needed to talk to Grenwin, but I found myself unwilling to excuse myself from the sewing circle. Instead of taking action, I sat and stewed in my shame while focusing on the work. I ought to be better than this.
One more thing to work on, I supposed.
