The Moth and the Bear II: The Crossing

By Grace O'Hare

Kaelin Belka’s blacksmith father has been missing for many years, but she believes he may be alive somewhere and is determined to find him. She'll need the help of Ruyak, whose older sister may hold the secret. However, as Kaelin waits for her friend to make an appearance, things in her village become more uncertain by the day. As Kaelin struggles with the pitfalls of village life, she finds just as many obstacles rising within her own mind. If and when Ruyak finally comes to meet her, it may be to find her in pieces.

As tangled webs become ever more treacherous, and dark secrets find their way into the light, Kaelin will need to discover for herself the boundaries of her beliefs, her willpower, and her trust.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Grace O'Hare
• Release date: Aug 27, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005394912

Grace O'Hare

A fool with a keyboard.

Book preview

The Moth and the Bear II

The Crossing

Grace O'Hare

An depiction of Kaelin's design for the moth Adinen.

Copyright © 2022 Grace O'Hare

All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Contact Information:

http://graceohare.com/

[e-mail]

Visit graceohare.com for maps, a lexicon, and more!

To my person, my light in the dark.

Let's go places.

Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Prologue

Part 1

Chapter 1 - Summer Snow

Chapter 2 - Breathing In

Chapter 3 - The Journeyman

Chapter 4 - Inquiry

Chapter 5 - Autumn

Chapter 6 - Winter

Chapter 7 - The Offering

Chapter 8 - The Truth

Chapter 9 - And One More Thing…

Chapter 10 - The Last of It

Part 2

Chapter 11 - Cold Mornings

Chapter 12 - The Stowaway

Chapter 13 - Children in the Dark

Chapter 14 - Fun to Play With

Chapter 15 - The Game

Chapter 16 - Questions for Answers

Chapter 17 - A Disagreement

Chapter 18 - Loske

Chapter 19 - The Professor

Chapter 20 - Eye to Eye

Chapter 21 - A Rain Song

Chapter 22 - The Tent

Chapter 23 - Fishing

Chapter 24 - Three Rules

Chapter 25 - Lost in Translation

Chapter 26 - Upwind

Chapter 27 - Muddy Crossroads

Chapter 28 - Imagination

Chapter 29 - Greedy Waters

Chapter 30 - Mead and Spiders

Chapter 31 - Breathing Out

Epilogue

Special Thanks

Prologue

The classroom was quiet and empty. Peaceful. Dust motes drifted in the late morning light pouring through the tall, steepled windows. Anfisa had just finished dusting the bone meal from her crucible when she heard a knock on her classroom door.

What is it? she called out.

Professor Kaminski?

Yes? What?

There’s someone here to see you, Professor.

My open office hours are in the afternoon. Tell them to come back later.

He says he’s, uh- There was an awkward flurry of unintelligible speech behind the door. A second voice cut in impatiently:

Anfisa! Anfisa it’s me!

The professor smiled, recognizing the voice instantly, but she let her guest suffer in silence for a moment.

Anfisa carefully poured the bone meal she’d ground into a ceramic flask. No need to rush. She didn’t want to make a mess, after all.

On the other side of the door, boots shuffled and confused whispers echoed.

Come in, Vadik, Anfisa finally shouted. The locked door rattled as her visitor attempted to open it.

Oh, I must have locked it, Anfisa drawled. She took her time pressing a cork into the flask of bone meal before finally making her way around the labyrinth of tables.

Dammit, Anfisa! Open up! Vadik barked. Don't make me wait out here like a damned student. I came all the way to Sutzgrad to tell you about this!

I already debunked those tonics that were going around last month. Anfisa rested her hand on the lock. A student brought me a sample and I’m fairly sure it was just a mix of gilded bear bile and honey-mead.

No no no, not that! Vadik pounded on the door. That’s old news.

Is it about that claw the oblystor’s nephew bought? That merchant didn't get it from me, I promise.

"No Anfisa, this is new news! Please let me in?"

The professor sighed heavily. Letting Vadik into her classroom would mean the rest of her day was spoken for. Was what she was working on important enough to send him away?

Perhaps, but… she couldn’t say no to him.

Anfisa unlocked the door and let the man in. He barreled over the threshold like a child coming in out of the rain, and Anfisa smirked as Vadik brushed off his traveling clothes and rearranged himself. He always tried so hard to look like a grown-up. You’d think for a tall man in his forties with a full beard, it wouldn’t be hard, but maybe Anfisa just knew him well enough to see through the cracks.

"Thank you! Vadik growled, strutting between the tables and glancing around the empty room. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the student who’d led him there. Close the door, Professor."

Yes sir, Anfisa snarked.

The moment the door was shut, Vadik exploded. "Professor, you’re not going to believe this! It-it’s… well, I’m not even sure I believe it myself, yet. For the moment all I have are rumors, but… Anfisa! Such rumors they are!"

Anfisa lowered herself into a chair, preparing her body and soul for the onslaught. Go on.

It happened in Brightice. Vadik held his hands in front of him like a stage performer, and Anfisa almost burst out laughing.

"Vadik, nothing happens in Brightice. There are, what? Three villages?"

Yes! One small, two moderately sized. Does Motylek sound familiar?

Absolutely not, Anfisa laughed, and if it did I’d be ashamed of myself.

Not acknowledging Anfisa’s disparaging tone, Vadik soldiered on, There was an incident there several years ago. A blacksmith and some fur traders were killed. I could find it in my notes for you, if you want.

No, that’s fine. Anfisa leaned on a table and rested her chin in one hand. Was there another attack there recently or something?

Yes! Vadik looked positively gleeful, which was rather inappropriate given the subject matter, but not all that uncharacteristic.

I assume since you came all the way here to tell me about this, that there was something notable about this attack, and you’re not just suddenly taking a keen interest in every person who gets killed by a Medved’ Beis in Backwoods, Nowhere-land.

That’s the thing, Vadik beamed. She survived.

Anfisa raised her head, but her hand hovered in the air where her chin had been resting. Who survived? Survived what?

A young woman! Eighteen years old. Vadik braced himself on the table between them. And get this: She’s the daughter of the blacksmith that was killed there before.

You’re telling me, Anfisa gaped at him, this girl is the sole survivor of an attack?

What? No! Vadik shook his head. No no no. Goodness, let me back up. Several months ago in Motylek, there was a direct attack. Two male Beis destroyed one house and several other structures, injured six people and made off with a seventh. News of that attack reached me about a month later, but it didn’t seem particularly notable so it hadn’t been looked into yet.

Brightice borders Loskir, Anfisa frowned. I would think you’d be interested.

"I’m a busy man, Professor. The interesting part happened about twenty days after that attack. See, that seventh victim, the one that was taken, she came back."

Anfisa didn’t understand why her head was spinning until she realized she was suddenly standing. Vadik grinned at her, then started to pace.

"And before you ask, no, it’s not a mistake. It wasn’t misreported as a taking. She was gone, Vadik explained, gesturing with his hands as he walked aimlessly around the desks. For almost twenty days. And she wasn’t just lost in the woods, trying to get back, either. Now I’ve only heard this second-hand, at this point, but-"

You haven’t spoken to the girl? said Anfisa, incredulous.

Vadik clenched his hands into fists. Motylek is… insular. They don’t like inquiries. I have to be diplomatic.

Anfisa nodded stiffly. Tell me what you’ve heard, then. Second-hand will have to do.

Well, it's… Vadik paused, then fished out a notebook. Hold on, let me read you this. It seems like the girl just repeats the same thing to anyone that asks her about it. I kept hearing the same words and sentences from different people. Eventually I pieced together a summary.

And?

Vadik read straight from his notebook: ‘The Medved’ Beis took her far into the wilderness, and asked her to make their son an amulet for his coming-of-age. When she finished it, they brought her back.’ Vadik clapped the notebook shut. What do you make of that, Professor?

Anfisa swallowed hard and shook her head, her eyes wandering to the well-worn woodgrain of the desk nearest her. That’s… that’s not how that works.

"That’s exactly what I was thinking! Vadik said. It doesn’t sound right at all! I’ve never seen evidence of Medved’ Beis having any sort of ceremonies or rites or amulets like that. And no one’s ever come back from being taken before. There’s something about this girl, Anfisa…"

The professor stared at nothing, deep in thought. Vadik’s rambling echoed in the empty classroom.

I suspect after her father was killed, she researched magic that would bewitch chimerics or something. You know all about that sort of thing, right professor? Her mother was rumored to be some kind of haksa, it’s the only explanation that makes sense for me.

Anfisa took a breath, steadying herself. There was a lot to unravel here, and Vadik’s nonsensical theories weren’t helping. She needed to check her notes, contact her sources. She needed to speak to the girl.

Imagine what we could learn from her, Vadik was saying. Ways to stop them, ways to entrap them! With her knowledge-

What’s her name? Anfisa interrupted.

Oh, uh… Kaelin Belka.

And she was returned unharmed?

Well, not exactly unharmed, no. She had broken ribs and a gash on her leg, along with some minor scrapes and bruises.

How did she get those injuries?

Vadik shrugged. That I haven’t been able to figure out definitively. Too many inconsistent explanations. Seems like she doesn’t like to talk about it. They may not have even been related to her capture.

"Is there anything else you do know?"

Well, I… Vadik pulled on his beard. I haven’t been able to do a full inquiry, yet. As soon as I had any information I left Brightice and came here as fast as I could. I wanted to tell you before your classes start up.

Anfisa froze, watching Vadik’s face. You’re hoping I’ll cancel my winter classes and come back with you for the inquiry.

Something like that. Vadik smirked sadly, looking like he already knew her answer.

Anfisa sat back down, slumping over and holding her head in her hands. Suddenly this was all very heavy. I’m sorry, Vadik. I can’t.

Why not?

Twenty days. Anfisa thought to herself. Twenty days in the company of Kanai, and all she has to show for it are some broken ribs and a scratched leg? Anfisa wondered if this Kaelin Belka knew how lucky she was. You know I don’t do field research anymore. Besides, it’s too close to the start of the semester to cancel my classes.

Couldn’t one of the other professors cover them? They’re perfectly knowledgeable, right?

Anfisa rubbed her temples. Here’s what I can agree to, Vadik: If you can find this Kaelin Belka, and I can find someone to cover my classes, I’ll come to wherever you are and I’ll help you talk to her.

I’ll bring her to you, if I can, Vadik said.

Anfisa looked up at him, doubtful. What makes you think she’ll agree to that?

I’ll think of something, Vadik huffed, putting his hands on his hips. "I’ll have her arrested if I have to.

Part 1

The Village

An illustration of Kaelin in her father's forge.

Chapter 1 - Summer Snow

Never had Kaelin stared at a mere flower with such trepidation.

There was nothing particularly alarming about the flower itself. Owlsbeard was a common enough flower to see on the grassy slopes with their yellow, star-shaped blooms bobbing delicately in mountain breezes, but this one was no innocuous yellow bloom. This owlsbeard was sporting a fluffy white seedhead, and the sight of it stopped Kaelin in her tracks.

Something wrong, Kaelin? Jani’s voice drifted to her from down the road.

Spring is over, Kaelin thought, but shook her head. The seedhead swayed hypnotically, its gracile stem reaching to her from between a bit of sun-bleached wood and a cobblestone. The motion seemed beseeching, as a hand waving for Kaelin to follow… or flee. Which was it? One of the fragile-looking seed puffs dislodged itself and vanished into the grass.

Are you coming?

Oh, sorry Jani, Kaelin shook herself off and turned to follow, the sun striking her eyes as though she’d just opened them. Why must everything be so bright? She felt feverish under her sarafan and aprons.

We need to be back home soon if we’re to finish dying the bolts today, Jani was explaining, as though she hadn’t already told Kaelin a dozen times. Even Jani was treating her like a fragile child these days.

I know.

What were you staring at back there?

Nothing. Just a flower.

Jani made a skeptical noise, and the two women continued on their way up the street at a quick clip. Moments later, they came upon the butcher’s wife maneuvering a rickety handcart full of stuffed burlap sacks down the uneven stones. She greeted them breathlessly, tendrils of graying hair plastered to her red forehead.

G’morning, Miss Belka, Miss Vienn, the butcher’s wife huffed, nodding to Kaelin and Jani in turn. Lovely day, isn’t it?

Hot, grumbled Kaelin, arranging her face into a polite smile.

Yes, lovely, Jani laughed. Would you like some help with that cart, Rika?

Oh no, thank you dear. It’s all bags of feathers. Not heavy, just unruly.

Kaelin glanced at the cart’s wheels. Is there something wrong with it?

You know… Rika scratched her mushy-looking chin and followed Kaelin’s gaze. There might be. Maybe you could take a look at it sometime, Kaelin?

There’s not much I could do unless it’s the hardware…

Couldn’t hurt to look, Rika winked.

Well I… alright. Sure, I could come by the shop this afternoon.

Excellent! I’ll see you then, dear.

Rika waddled away, the cart doing its best to wiggle off in every direction, and Jani sighed heavily, the sort of sigh one doesn’t make unless it’s meant to be noticed. Kaelin ignored her and kept her eyes on the cobblestones, feet sweaty in her boots, as they marched on.

In the market square, there were two merchants set up with their wares displayed in the sunshine, a low number for the time of year. Kaelin could remember a time when the market square was full to bursting on days like these.

Good morning, Misters, Jani called to the merchants as they approached. And which one of you have I heard is selling kermes on this fine day?

That would be I, Miss. One of the merchants waved. He had a thick, scrupulously trimmed black beard and a pillowy-looking fashion in his dress, all bright yellows. You must be the clothier.

Her eldest. How much are you selling for?

Thirty bolls a pound.

Jani leaned on the merchant’s cart and made some sort of hiccupy noise in the back of her throat, which she tried to hide under a dignified cough. That’s… a little more than I thought it would be…

It’s come a long way.

Well, then I certainly hope that it will regale me with tales of its travels, since I can get the same color with vegetables.

Vegetables you might, but it won’t last half as long.

Kaelin was already bored. She wandered over to the other merchant’s cart and tried to block out the sounds of haggling in the background, but her eyes couldn’t quite focus on the colors and shapes, all she could see was that little white seed head bobbing in the wind.

Spring was so short, Kaelin thought, biting her lip. The other wildflowers would be fading now, transforming into silver puffs that would drift down from the high mountains in great, silent clouds, to catch on all the raw edges of things like summer snow.

A hand waved in front of her face, and Kaelin flinched back.

"I said, ‘can I interest you in some wares miss?'"

Recovering from the shock, Kaelin blinked at the merchant’s round, whiskery face peering at her from under a faded red turban. Oh, um… what have you got?

Glass panes, sea salt, fine clay…

Sea salt?

Yes, from the great Western ocean. Much more flavorful than the rocks they bring you from Ovrustan.

I don’t see how there could be much difference, but can I ask you something, merchant?

The man busied himself with a small jar, scrabbling around in it with a tiny silver spoon. Sure, but you must try some sea salt.

Where are all the other traders? There are usually more this time of year. The woman with drake skins, the family with all the tame birds, a man who sells iron stock...

Taste first, the merchant said, holding out the silver spoon.

Kaelin took the spoon with a sigh, inspecting its scant contents. Tiny white flakes caught the sun, glittering. She tossed the salt on her tongue and handed back the little spoon.

Good? The merchant smiled hopefully.

Kaelin considered. As far as salt went, it was unusually flavorful, in a fishy, spicy way, but truly… it was salt. Lothe to dash the merchant’s optimism, Kaelin nodded and tried to look intrigued.

There’s a little cliffside town my man buys it from, the merchant gushed, where gulls and papery-white dragons dance in the air. Whenever I taste this salt I can see them, hear the waves crashing on the rocks, feel the salty ocean breeze on my face...

Sounds wonderful, Kaelin mused, more interested now in tales of the sea than in the merchant’s salt, but then she remembered her question and gave the merchant a stiff, expectant smile.

Ah yes, the other traders… he scratched his beard. Well, gods know the Suzerein is doing his best to keep Kellabor sovereign, but from what I hear Rowea has been pestering his majesty to convert to Heraldism and it’s making some folks uncomfortable. Some Gribi traders I know are sticking closer to the big cities in case something goes amiss.

So it’s just… political tension? That’s all?

I think so. Same thing happened a few decades ago. It will pass, the merchant shrugged. Of course, in this village’s case, it could also be the rumors of Medved’ Beis attacks, but I never had much faith in those tall tales. Giant monsters, my foot!

The merchant laughed heartily, not noticing Kaelin’s stiffness as she glanced at Jani sidelong. Jani was still busy with the now agitated dye merchant.

"Do you even know how much shit this kermes has been through to get here? How much shit I’ve been through? The dye merchant gestured all around to the landscape. I’m not budging. Twenty a pound."

Jani crossed her arms, her thin lips pressed into a hard line, but the other merchant interjected.

Sounds like rain in your boots, for all you’re squeaking! The salt merchant chuckled. The road’s long, but it’s a lovely time of year for the trade routes.

Jani gestured to the salt merchant in agreement, but now the dye merchant was fuming.

You’re a fool if you don’t fear these lands, he spat. Don’t take me for a coward. I’m here because no one else is, aside from patsies like you.

I’m a patsy? Ha! I’m not the one who believes fairytales, the salt merchant tittered.

Clothier, do you want the kermes or not?

Jani threw her hands up in defeat. Well, I have enough for a quarter pound, I suppose.

Five bolls.

Four and a half.

Deal.

While Jani counted out the coins, Kaelin turned to the salt merchant again.

These rumors… she muttered. What um, exactly…?

Oh, the Beis attacks? The merchant waved his hand dismissively. Some waypoint up in Hurdifan got destroyed a few months back, and the folks who lived there weren’t found. Most I hear the tale from think it was probably just a bad fire.

No fire, said the other merchant, measuring scoops of kermes grains into a fine red bag on his bronze scale. And it wasn’t just that waypoint, either. A weg drover from Yorgov and his whole drove went missing just last week.

"Well now there’s nothing strange about that. The wilderness is a dangerous place, what with criminals and diroden and drakes and all that. Drovers go missing all the time. Doesn’t mean it was a giant bear thing."

There were tracks.

"Oh sure…"

You-

Excuse me, we must be going, Jani shoved her jangling coins across the dye merchant’s counter as he fumbled to close the red kermes bag, which Jani snatched the second he was finished. Come on, Kaelin.

Wait, miss, did you want to buy some salt?

Jani barked an answer, She doesn’t need any salt. Goodbye.

Jani had already marched halfway across the market square before Kaelin was able to assemble herself enough to throw the salt merchant a half-boll coin for his efforts.

That was… strange of you, Kaelin said as she caught up. Is something wrong?

Jani didn’t look at her. Could you please be a bit more discriminating, Kaelin? You shouldn’t be stirring things up like that.

What do you mean? I was just-

Jani shushed her with a sharp handwave. Don’t. You know what? Why don’t you go look at the butcher’s wagon like you said? My sisters and I can figure out the kermes.

Really? So early?

Jani shrugged. If we need your help I can send Matilda over to fetch you.

Well, if I need the forge, I can’t leave it lit too long without properly-

It’s fine. Just go.

A fluffy red mantis landed on the old cart wheel as it lay in the grass. Distracted, Kaelin watched the mantis sway gently and wave its scythelike arms at her. Funny how such a little creature could pretend to be threatening. Shaking her head, Kaelin turned back to the task at hand. She was sitting crosslegged in the shade of the disassembled handcart, Rika leaning over her shoulder.

Cracked?

Kaelin nodded, turning the rusty iron skein in question over in her lap. Held together only by the lynchpin near one end, the two pieces that had once been whole clicked and chimed against each other like broken pieces of pottery.

I wonder what could have cracked it like that… Rika mused.

Cast iron can be brittle. Kaelin heaved herself up from the ground and dusted off her skirts with one hand. I’ll have to check and see if I have a spare somewhere. I probably do.

So you can’t fix this one?

Kaelin dislodged the lynchpin from the skein, letting the two halves fall apart. Flakes of rust stuck to her palms. Afraid not. I’m actually shocked the wheel didn’t fall right off.

Must’ve held on through sheer stubbornness.

Kaelin smiled at the broken skein in her hands. Must have…

You know, Rika said, noticing Kaelin’s pensive expression, I think your father made that skein, and the other one too. Probably made the rest of the hardware on this little cart.

Well, that’s true for a lot of things in this village. He made half the nails holding these houses together.

And you made the other half.

Kaelin snorted, and Rika clapped her hands together.

Now then! the old butcher’s wife cheered. "How about some water before you head to the smithy, Kaelin? It’s such a warm day, and watching you take that wheel apart made me thirsty."

Kaelin glanced back down at the cart wheel. When she wasn’t looking, the mantis had caught a little brown moth, and was now busy munching its head off, all the while watching Kaelin with its eerie, round eyes.

Kaelin rolled the detached wheel to the smithy easily enough, the skein clattering around in her pocket as she went. The first thing she’d need to do was make certain she didn’t already have a workable skein laying around somewhere.

Even without the forge lit, the smithy was baking. Kaelin pushed her sleeves all the way up to her shoulders as she poked through her boxes of unused iron hardware. The heavy pieces clunked against each other, big spoons and orphan halfs of fire tongs, broken mysterious bits and bobs… but no skeins.

So there was work to be done.

Iron made unforgiving work. The rhythm of a striking hammer ached in the bones long after the day was done, every blow another ravenous termite gnawing deep into the arm’s joints. The sharp ringing of metal-on-metal was just as much an irritation and, like the aches and pains, echoed long after the forge was extinguished and the hammer lain aside.

Kaelin remembered well her father’s thoughts on the matter of forge-pains, specifically his intolerance for whining about them. "Don’t follow me into the smithy if you don’t love the fires," he would say. Demyan Belka had his own aches and pains, the battle scars of a master blacksmith with decades of ironwork behind him, and he never complained. Still, despite his stern words, Kaelin vividly remembered the times when the grueling work took its toll, and Demyan would brew hot mugs of tea for her and his apprentice Peter, and tell them stories by the fire in their little cabin. The lingering ache of the forge meant a job well done.

These days, Kaelin was always alone in the smithy. There would be no guidance, no fellow student to jest with, no patient hand on her shoulder reminding her not to swing so hard. Even so, Kaelin could light the fire, breathe life back into the coals, and the forge would awaken to become a companion of sorts. It was a creature she tended carefully, shuffling the coals into just the perfect mound before sprinkling drops of water across them like Demyan had once shown her. Not too much, or you'll crack the firepot. The lively hisses sounded like thank you’s.

Personifying the forge did ease the isolation, in a way, but most of the time Kaelin loved working in the smithy entirely because it was her escape to solitude. If she couldn’t think of an excuse to work in the smithy, she would be trapped in the house with her adoptive family all day, tied down not with chains, but with a needle and thread and an old dress draped across her lap. Mending clothes in the house with the chatty Vienn sisters wasn’t always the worst thing, but sometimes Kaelin just needed time to herself, where she could mercilessly beat her cares out of some small, gently glowing scrap of iron on the anvil, and come home later with the ache of the smithy hot in her bones.

Thoughts of forge pains didn’t sound so gratifying today, not with the summer heat, and hammering would do nothing to a broken piece of cast iron but shatter it. No, there would be no use for the anvil today. All Kaelin would need was some stock, a mold, a crucible, and an oven.

A hot, hot oven.

Kaelin sighed to herself, sweat already dripping down her neck and arms.

Chapter 2 - Breathing In

The dream was mundane, at first, as most dreams are.

Kaelin was standing in a familiar room, with timber walls and rugs on the floor. In her hands she held her headscarf, but something heavy was bundled within. An object, valuable beyond measure. She shifted it in her hands, feeling clumsy, worrying over it. It would be too easy to fumble and drop it.

Kaelin’s dream shuddered, her perspective shifted. The light faded.

Darkness, or just closed eyes? Were there blankets over her? Was she laying on her face, or her back? Where was this place? Was she in a bed or on a cold stone floor?

It should have been a simple thing to investigate. Kaelin imagined bringing a hand up to her face, to get her bearings, to feel for a blanket. She imagined blinking, turning her head, sitting up. Why was this such a difficult task? Why did her limbs refuse the simple action of movement?

Nothing moved, because Kaelin couldn’t move.

That was when she noticed it: the weight. An implacable, smothering bulk crushing, pressing, pushing down on her. She fought for air and captured scant gasps, body aching, desperate for movement as much as breath. She raged against the heaviness, clawing with nothing but her will and finding no purchase.

A horrible throbbing grew in her head, pounding, rushing. Fight! Fight! But what was there to fight? This was no contest, it was an execution.

Somewhere in the space above her an immense presence loomed. It was ethereal, a shadow, but no less threatening for its intangibility. It drew closer, the mass of it overwhelming, heavy, oppressive. Kaelin’s chest screamed.

With a strangled gasp, Kaelin shuddered awake. Her eyes sprang open to natural darkness as she gulped air. The benign dimness of a summer night seemed bright as daylight compared to what had come before. There was no looming shadow above her, just the faded brown timber ceiling of a room too small to fit such a thing.

Just a nightmare, Kaelin thought. It didn’t slow her heart, though. Each throbbing beat of it was a reminder of the vision. She rolled onto her side with a rustle of straw and fabric, limbs aching in protest as though she’d really been fighting something.

It felt like half the night passed before Kaelin finally fell asleep again, and the moment she did, she was jostled awake.

"Kaelin! Kaelin, wake up! You won’t believe who’s back!"

Matilda was shaking Kaelin’s shoulders like wind through the barley, but her words were far more compelling.

Back? Who’s back? Could it be?

Kaelin’s eyes snapped open to warm morning light, her belly filling with fluttering wings, and the shoulder-shaking stopped.

Matilda was leaning over her, grinning and flushed with excitement. Her bangs, usually so carefully tucked under her headscarf in shiny blonde half-moons, were hanging disheveled and unconstrained. This glee was perplexing.

Who…? Kaelin slurred.

"Peter!" Matilda exclaimed, and for a confused moment Kaelin had absolutely no idea who Matilda was talking about. Who on earth was Peter? Just before Matilda explained, Kaelin remembered.

Your father’s apprentice? He showed up at the inn late last night. Everyone’s there now.

Matilda jumped off the bed and skipped to the door, where she watched expectantly as Kaelin hauled herself into a sitting position. Impatient summer sunlight was streaming in through the pale curtains, too bright, too hot. Kaelin’s skin stuck to her bedclothes and blankets.

Come on! Matilda chirped. Aren’t you excited? You haven’t seen him in, what? Ten years?

Six or seven…

Matilda examined Kaelin’s face, fidgeting with the door handle. Don’t you want to see him?

Kaelin wondered the same thing, but ‘Peter’ was a stranger’s name, recalling nothing more than a forgotten face’s blurry outline and the indistinct voice of a teenage boy. A stranger in town hardly seemed like reason to spring out of bed. I do…

Come on, then, get dressed!

Matilda, wait...

What? What’s wrong?

Kaelin sighed and rubbed her eyes, trying to peer through the sludge of thoughts behind them. She knew, logically, this was an exciting development, and she ought to be jumping for joy, but there was just… nothing. Nothing but a vague, lingering dread and visions of a puffy white flower rising up to grasp at her.

"I am glad he’s back, and I do want to see him, Kaelin slumped, but if I go now, with everyone else there, I’ll have to seem… all joyous and ecstatic. Not that I’m not, but… you understand?"

You don’t have to act any particular way, Kaelin.

It would be rude and strange for me not to.

Matilda considered this. I can tell them you aren’t feeling well, but I think they may find it more strange for you not to be there.

Maybe, Kaelin sighed, but I’m just… I just can’t today.

Alright, if that’s what you need, Matilda said, still skeptical. She opened the bedroom door slowly, trying to give Kaelin time to change her mind. I’ll be at the inn, but I’ll try to be back before midday to check in. Try to get up and eat something, alright?

Right.

Bye, then… Matilda sang dolefully, then shut the door.

Kaelin flopped back down into the blankets, listening to Matilda’s footsteps tromp down the stairs, and immediately regretted not going with her. Who was this sullen, fussy Kaelin she’d turned into? Was she not even brave enough to face an old friend? A perfectly normal, human friend?

It soon became apparent her hope for any more sleep was futile. Kaelin was broiling in the stuffy bedroom, even with every blanket kicked to the end of the bed. So everyone was at the inn, were they? At least that meant Kaelin had the house to herself. She slid out of bed and dressed herself, working out the kinks in her muscles as she did. Were these forge pains? No, couldn’t be. She hadn’t used the anvil yesterday.

But what about that dream she’d had?

Kaelin considered the nightmare, the terror and the feeling of a weight on her chest. It reminded her of something that had happened months ago at the spring festival, something she had almost forgotten…

✽✽✽

The festivities started at dusk as the entire village swarmed the town hall, Seivet and Gribi alike, a riotous mass of celebratory people. Much of the attention was focused on the trappers, who were now officially home for the season from their long winter trapping routes. There were brightly colored lanterns dangling from the rafters with gold-colored tassels shimmering and twitching between them in the drafts, and the rich nutty scents of roast meat and squash hung in the air alongside the bright allure of freshly baked sweetcakes and winter wine.

Kaelin sat with the Vienn family at one of the long oak tables bordering the center of the hall. Everyone was dressed in their brightest dancing clothes, and some of the garments Kaelin saw she recognized as ones she’d either made or helped make. Kaelin’s own dress was one she’d made too, though she considered it a practice piece rather than one she’d let someone else wear. There was much she’d still had to learn when she made it. Her headscarf was something she was proud of, though: a dark purple square embroidered with green and violet stagscrown flowers.

Fiona’s voice cut through the din, Go ask him to dance!

Who? Matilda blinked innocently.

The shoemaker’s boy, Theo! Obviously! Fiona gestured vaguely across the hall. See? He’s looking at you.

And he may have been, for a moment. It was hard to know for sure with the crowd and the low lighting.

But, I don’t… what do I say?

Just say, ‘Hey nice vest. Will you dance with me?’ and then hold out your hand, said Fiona. "He’ll probably burst out laughing because you made that vest, so don’t be surprised."

Matilda looked skeptical.

What could go wrong? Fiona smiled.

What if he says no?

Kaelin elbowed her. His loss.

Matilda gripped the edge of her seat like a bird considering taking flight and gave Kaelin a questioning look.

What are you still staring at me for? Kaelin laughed and playfully shoved her shoulder. Go! Ask him!

Alright, I… I will! Matilda barked, and up she sprang to skip lightly across the hall.

She’ll be the first to marry of all of us, at this rate, Eva chuckled from the other side of the table. Her yelp of annoyance told everyone Jani had kicked her under the table. "What? It isn’t like you’re planning anything soon."

As Jani and Eva bickered, Fiona sat down beside Kaelin and watched Matilda and the shoemaker’s boy wistfully. It seemed Theo agreed to dance, because they both joined the swirling mass in the middle of the hall and vanished.

How did you notice he was looking at her? Kaelin asked her.

I didn’t. I just have a feeling they’ll get along.

Really?

Yeah. See, Theo’s sensitive and featherbrained like she is, so they’ll make each other laugh, but he’s got a bit more confidence and he’s very forthright, so I think they’ll balance each other out.

A genuine matchmaker, Kaelin mused, impressed. Have you tried that for the others?

Oh trust me, I’ve tried, but they’re lost causes. Especially Lila.

Lila perked her head up at her name, but apparently hadn’t been listening to the rest of the conversation. She blushed as Kaelin and Fiona burst out laughing.

The man for her would need a pair of tur horns, Fiona giggled.

What? Why? Lila demanded.

To withstand the constant headbutting.

Eva and Jani joined the laughter, and the conversation dimmed in Kaelin’s ears. She smiled serenely, experiencing the