Finally, an update...
Jun. 14th, 2007 10:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ailsa_chanWeek at work has largely been long and busy. At least it's friday tomorrow. So very very sleepy. I've been in a silly mood all evening. There was a cat scratching the tree outside the house so I went nya at it. It ignored me, so I spend the next hour or so going nya at Joe. Anyway, next update below, comment or I'll cry. Nearly filled all the holes, so the update after this should be back to the plot. This bit is between the Folk camp and Amari's death.
Amari woke feeling strangely calm and relaxed. She had slept on the floor of Hasa’s caravan to keep an eye on Summer, but the boy had not stirred once. She dressed herself and opened the door, before waking the boy. He sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand.
“Breakfast?” she asked and he nodded enthusiastically. She studied him carefully. “You understand me, don’t you?” Another nod. “But you can’t talk? It makes it awkward, but don’t worry: we’ll look after you. You want to go home, don’t you?” He agreed, looking sad. She hugged him. “I’ll see you get back where you belong, you have my word on it.”
She was leading Summer down to the fire where others were gathering when she saw Saffron coming out of one of the other caravans. There was an ugly purple bruise across her left cheek, but she had her head held up as if nothing was wrong. She saw Amari and stopped.
“Hello.”
“How are you feeling?” Amari asked her quietly.
She smiled. “I’m fine. I slept very well.”
“You don’t seem like a woman who…” she broke off.
“It’s not the first time I’ve been in that situation,” she explained. “You learn to deal with it. If you can’t, then you are better off dead.”
I couldn’t deal with it, Amari realised. I couldn’t let someone violate me like that and then pretend nothing had happened.
“Well,” she said aloud. “I think you bring the attention on yourself, the way you act. But I will not stand by and let a man act like that to any woman.”
She had expected Saffron to be angry or hurt by her words, so Amari was surprised when she threw back her head and laughed. When she was done, she wiped a tear away from her eye.
“Oh yeah. Zephyr said you had received some bad news. I hope it was nothing too serious.”
“My father has decided to try and lead the Folk back north. He feels something evil is in the air and hopes to escape it by going far away from the lands of the pale men. The forest is vast and nobody has headed particularly far into it in three or four generations. If I don’t leave with them, there’s a strong chance I may never find them again.”
“Will you go?” Saffron asked.
“No. I made a promise to this one,” she replied, ruffling Summer’s hair.
“That must have been a hard decision, choosing between your family and your promise.”
Amari looked at her in surprise. “There was no decision to be made. I gave my word. I will not break it for anyone, including my father. He will understand, even if my uncle does not.”
They reached the edge of the fire and looked for Zephyr. He was sat on his own, nursing a mug of tea and a hangover.
“Watch yourselves,” Jack called as he saw them heading over. “Like a bear with a sore head is that one.”
“I doubt it,” Saffron retorted. “Bears generally know better than to drink strong liquor.”
He grinned. “Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Amari was the first to reach Zephyr. “How’s your head?” she enquired cheerfully.
“You know bloody well,” he snapped, unamused by her mock sympathy. “Your people do things to apples that God never intended, Songbird.”
She laughed. “Want anything to eat?”
He winced and shook his head.
“Keep an eye on him then,” she said, pointing to Summer, before walking away.
Zephyr looked down as the boy climbed onto the log next to him. “At least you know how to respect a man’s hangover.”
Summer looked up and gave him a wide eyed and benevolent smile. Zephyr had the distinct feeling he was being mocked, but was unsure quite how to respond. He had never been good at guessing what people were thinking at the best of times, and so had no idea what thoughts could be going on in the mind of this strange silent child.
He wondered idly if the boy had always been a mute or if it was a result of what he had been through. It was just one of a whole string of questions, but Zephyr was not too concerned about finding the answers. There was just no point in getting caught up with riddles you couldn’t solve, he decided. That only led to headaches and it was bad enough just getting them from drink.
“It’d be easier if you could talk,” he told Summer, “but where would be the fun in that? Still, never fear, we’ll get you back. Songbird will see to that. She doesn’t know the meaning of the phrase ‘give up.’”
Breakfast was a sedate and relaxed affair. None of the Folk seemed particularly affected by the drink or lack of sleep, and none of their guests seemed anxious to leave, though each of them had their own reasons for wanting to delay. Amari had found her cousin by the cooking fire and was beginning her farewells.
“It’s too soon,” Hasa was saying. “I haven’t seen you in years and I may not see you again.”
“Your clan will follow my father?” she enquired.
“Nothing’s been decided; it’s been barely spoken about,” Hasa admitted, “but I believe so. Folk stick together,” she added pointedly.
“And we never break our word,” Amari added, but without animosity. “Nothing is certain yet. If I can find Summer’s home quickly I can come back and look for you. My father must have made his decision recently; he can’t have spoken to everyone yet.”
Hasa threw her arms around her cousin. “Whatever happens, take care of yourself. And listen to your heart: no one knows you better. It will steer you right, you’ll see.”
Amari looked across at Zephyr, who was walking towards them. He had one arm around Saffron’s shoulder, and was holding Summer’s hand with the other. “Maybe,” she said softly. “Maybe.”
They were almost ready to leave before anyone saw anything of Michael. He emerged from the tree line, looking pale and unwell. His hair was tousled and his clothes dirty.
“Looks like I’m not the only one who had too much too drink,” Zephyr commented to Saffron. He turned to Michael. “What happened to you? Did you sleep out there?”
Michael’s glare was venomous, but when he saw Amari staring at him he dropped his gaze to the floor and refused to meet anyone’s eye. “Yeah,” he mumbled, heading towards his horse.
“Well, I feel your pain, my friend,” Zephyr called. He turned to Hasa and spoke to her in her own tongue. “Farewell Hasa.”
She nodded sadly. “Take care, I’ll miss you all.”
“We’re all under the same sky,” he replied, repeating an old Folk adage. “We’re not so far away.”
Saffron caught Amari looking at her as they mounted up and prepared to leave. ‘Last chance,’ the Folk woman’s expression said. She shook her head slightly, maintaining her resolve. Much as she wanted to see Michael punished for his actions, she could not tell.
They left the forest and the Folk behind, heading out through a narrow valley carved by a narrow, swift flowing river. The recent rains had left it swollen, and rushed and tumbled over debris that had been carried down from further upstream. The air has bitingly cold and they breathed white clouds as they travelled.
Nobody was speaking; everyone was caught up in their own thoughts. For a while there was only the sound of five horses walking, the river flowing, and the occasional harsh cry of a crow as they disturbed it from a meal. When the snow began to fall no one commented. It seemed, for a moment at least, to be perfectly natural; an inevitable occurrence. Zephyr was the first to realise what was happening. He moved Allegro so they were walking alongside Michael and pointed to the flakes settling on his arm.
“What’s that? And that and that?” he queried.
“Have you forgotten what snow is?” Michael snapped.
“I’ll tell you,” Zephyr continued, ignoring him. “That’s five silver crowns, that is. Come on, pay up, or have you forgotten our wager? ‘No flake of snow will fall anywhere in the Free Kingdoms before we get to the coast.’”
“No.” He handed over the coins grudgingly. “I can’t believe this. It’s nearly
summer and its snowing, but you’re more worried about settling a bet.”
“S’right. I can spend five silver crowns. I can’t do anything with a mystery. Worrying about why it’s snowing is not going to stop it snowing, is it? So why worry?”
The snow was settling quickly on the ground, so they decided to stop at the first place that offered shelter until it let up a bit. After a while it stopped falling, but not until there was a white layer across the ground. A pallid sun peered through the thick grey clouds and the weak light was enough to set everything sparkling.
Zephyr was the first to leave the shelter. He walked slowly, savouring the crunch of the fresh snow under his boots. He was always amazed at how much a coating of snow could change the landscape. It was as if someone had repainted the view while they had been sheltering. He could not understand Michael's earlier fears: sure, it was unusual, but it was still beautiful. He looked down as Summer took his hand.
“You agree with me, right? It's not so bad, is it?”
Summer replied with his typical enigmatic smile.
“Hey! Have you built a snowman?” he crouched down, starting to sweep snow into a pile. “I'll show you how it's done.”
From the tree line, Saffron watched them playing in the snow with a smile. She turned to Michael.
“Still think that's a monster out there?” she enquired.
“Which one?” he retorted. “Because right now I'm not sure about either of them. I mean, you’re bothered by this, aren't you?” He gestured to the ground.
She nodded. “Yes, but what can we do? Zephyr's right: there is no use in worrying about something we can't affect. Maybe there is something wrong going on, but where do you start to undo it?”
“You're right. It's not our problem,” he said, but he did not sound happy about it.
Saffron bent down and picked up a handful of snow. Thoughtfully she moulded it in her hands until it was a rough sphere. It would be cruel, she decided, to interrupt the snowman building, but she had a perfect shot at the back of his head. She drew back her hand and let the snowball fly. Its arched trajectory was dead on target and hit with a wet splat.
“Good shot,” Amari commented from behind her. “But you didn’t put enough force behind it. You need to do it like this.”
She released her own snowball. Zephyr was just turning to see where the first one had come from and it hit him square in the forehead, making him stagger slightly.
“Take cover!” he told Summer. They dived behind a small hillock and began to return fire in earnest.
It was not long before cold fingers and wet clothes led to a cease-fire. Jack had managed to find enough wood that was dry enough to burn and had lit a small fire to heat tea. Amari slipped off a short distance away to change out of her wet clothes, but Saffron had grown out of any shame a long time ago. She noticed that Michael was pointedly not watching: clearly he had seen enough in the Folk camp.
As they sat, huddled together drinking tea, Zephyr decided life did not get much better than this. He looked across at Amari and noticed her pensive expression.
“Are you okay, Songbird?”
She looked up with a start, then nodded. “I’m okay. I guess it’s just sinking in that I’ve probably severed ties with my old life completely.”
He squeezed her hand gently. “Not completely. You’ve still got me, right?”
She rested her head against his shoulder. “Yeah, I’ve still got you.” She began to hum a nostalgic melody quietly to herself. Zephyr listened curiously.
“What was that?” he enquired.
“It’s called ‘prayer for a child’,” she replied. “I remember my mother singing it when I was small. I’ve forgotten most of the words, but I still remember the tune.”
“Sing it again,” he requested, taking out his flute. She complied and after a moment he began to join in. At first he just followed her tune, but soon he was picking out a complicated counter-melody. The effect was beautiful and haunting. He was very talented, she realised.
“It’s hard to see why music is so feared, hearing something like that,” she said out loud.
He nodded. “I know. But that will change one day, I’m sure. One day, people will play freely in the streets, or travel the country entertaining in inns and castles. I don’t know how long it will take, but I hope I live to see it happen.”
Amari woke feeling strangely calm and relaxed. She had slept on the floor of Hasa’s caravan to keep an eye on Summer, but the boy had not stirred once. She dressed herself and opened the door, before waking the boy. He sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand.
“Breakfast?” she asked and he nodded enthusiastically. She studied him carefully. “You understand me, don’t you?” Another nod. “But you can’t talk? It makes it awkward, but don’t worry: we’ll look after you. You want to go home, don’t you?” He agreed, looking sad. She hugged him. “I’ll see you get back where you belong, you have my word on it.”
She was leading Summer down to the fire where others were gathering when she saw Saffron coming out of one of the other caravans. There was an ugly purple bruise across her left cheek, but she had her head held up as if nothing was wrong. She saw Amari and stopped.
“Hello.”
“How are you feeling?” Amari asked her quietly.
She smiled. “I’m fine. I slept very well.”
“You don’t seem like a woman who…” she broke off.
“It’s not the first time I’ve been in that situation,” she explained. “You learn to deal with it. If you can’t, then you are better off dead.”
I couldn’t deal with it, Amari realised. I couldn’t let someone violate me like that and then pretend nothing had happened.
“Well,” she said aloud. “I think you bring the attention on yourself, the way you act. But I will not stand by and let a man act like that to any woman.”
She had expected Saffron to be angry or hurt by her words, so Amari was surprised when she threw back her head and laughed. When she was done, she wiped a tear away from her eye.
“Oh yeah. Zephyr said you had received some bad news. I hope it was nothing too serious.”
“My father has decided to try and lead the Folk back north. He feels something evil is in the air and hopes to escape it by going far away from the lands of the pale men. The forest is vast and nobody has headed particularly far into it in three or four generations. If I don’t leave with them, there’s a strong chance I may never find them again.”
“Will you go?” Saffron asked.
“No. I made a promise to this one,” she replied, ruffling Summer’s hair.
“That must have been a hard decision, choosing between your family and your promise.”
Amari looked at her in surprise. “There was no decision to be made. I gave my word. I will not break it for anyone, including my father. He will understand, even if my uncle does not.”
They reached the edge of the fire and looked for Zephyr. He was sat on his own, nursing a mug of tea and a hangover.
“Watch yourselves,” Jack called as he saw them heading over. “Like a bear with a sore head is that one.”
“I doubt it,” Saffron retorted. “Bears generally know better than to drink strong liquor.”
He grinned. “Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Amari was the first to reach Zephyr. “How’s your head?” she enquired cheerfully.
“You know bloody well,” he snapped, unamused by her mock sympathy. “Your people do things to apples that God never intended, Songbird.”
She laughed. “Want anything to eat?”
He winced and shook his head.
“Keep an eye on him then,” she said, pointing to Summer, before walking away.
Zephyr looked down as the boy climbed onto the log next to him. “At least you know how to respect a man’s hangover.”
Summer looked up and gave him a wide eyed and benevolent smile. Zephyr had the distinct feeling he was being mocked, but was unsure quite how to respond. He had never been good at guessing what people were thinking at the best of times, and so had no idea what thoughts could be going on in the mind of this strange silent child.
He wondered idly if the boy had always been a mute or if it was a result of what he had been through. It was just one of a whole string of questions, but Zephyr was not too concerned about finding the answers. There was just no point in getting caught up with riddles you couldn’t solve, he decided. That only led to headaches and it was bad enough just getting them from drink.
“It’d be easier if you could talk,” he told Summer, “but where would be the fun in that? Still, never fear, we’ll get you back. Songbird will see to that. She doesn’t know the meaning of the phrase ‘give up.’”
Breakfast was a sedate and relaxed affair. None of the Folk seemed particularly affected by the drink or lack of sleep, and none of their guests seemed anxious to leave, though each of them had their own reasons for wanting to delay. Amari had found her cousin by the cooking fire and was beginning her farewells.
“It’s too soon,” Hasa was saying. “I haven’t seen you in years and I may not see you again.”
“Your clan will follow my father?” she enquired.
“Nothing’s been decided; it’s been barely spoken about,” Hasa admitted, “but I believe so. Folk stick together,” she added pointedly.
“And we never break our word,” Amari added, but without animosity. “Nothing is certain yet. If I can find Summer’s home quickly I can come back and look for you. My father must have made his decision recently; he can’t have spoken to everyone yet.”
Hasa threw her arms around her cousin. “Whatever happens, take care of yourself. And listen to your heart: no one knows you better. It will steer you right, you’ll see.”
Amari looked across at Zephyr, who was walking towards them. He had one arm around Saffron’s shoulder, and was holding Summer’s hand with the other. “Maybe,” she said softly. “Maybe.”
They were almost ready to leave before anyone saw anything of Michael. He emerged from the tree line, looking pale and unwell. His hair was tousled and his clothes dirty.
“Looks like I’m not the only one who had too much too drink,” Zephyr commented to Saffron. He turned to Michael. “What happened to you? Did you sleep out there?”
Michael’s glare was venomous, but when he saw Amari staring at him he dropped his gaze to the floor and refused to meet anyone’s eye. “Yeah,” he mumbled, heading towards his horse.
“Well, I feel your pain, my friend,” Zephyr called. He turned to Hasa and spoke to her in her own tongue. “Farewell Hasa.”
She nodded sadly. “Take care, I’ll miss you all.”
“We’re all under the same sky,” he replied, repeating an old Folk adage. “We’re not so far away.”
Saffron caught Amari looking at her as they mounted up and prepared to leave. ‘Last chance,’ the Folk woman’s expression said. She shook her head slightly, maintaining her resolve. Much as she wanted to see Michael punished for his actions, she could not tell.
They left the forest and the Folk behind, heading out through a narrow valley carved by a narrow, swift flowing river. The recent rains had left it swollen, and rushed and tumbled over debris that had been carried down from further upstream. The air has bitingly cold and they breathed white clouds as they travelled.
Nobody was speaking; everyone was caught up in their own thoughts. For a while there was only the sound of five horses walking, the river flowing, and the occasional harsh cry of a crow as they disturbed it from a meal. When the snow began to fall no one commented. It seemed, for a moment at least, to be perfectly natural; an inevitable occurrence. Zephyr was the first to realise what was happening. He moved Allegro so they were walking alongside Michael and pointed to the flakes settling on his arm.
“What’s that? And that and that?” he queried.
“Have you forgotten what snow is?” Michael snapped.
“I’ll tell you,” Zephyr continued, ignoring him. “That’s five silver crowns, that is. Come on, pay up, or have you forgotten our wager? ‘No flake of snow will fall anywhere in the Free Kingdoms before we get to the coast.’”
“No.” He handed over the coins grudgingly. “I can’t believe this. It’s nearly
summer and its snowing, but you’re more worried about settling a bet.”
“S’right. I can spend five silver crowns. I can’t do anything with a mystery. Worrying about why it’s snowing is not going to stop it snowing, is it? So why worry?”
The snow was settling quickly on the ground, so they decided to stop at the first place that offered shelter until it let up a bit. After a while it stopped falling, but not until there was a white layer across the ground. A pallid sun peered through the thick grey clouds and the weak light was enough to set everything sparkling.
Zephyr was the first to leave the shelter. He walked slowly, savouring the crunch of the fresh snow under his boots. He was always amazed at how much a coating of snow could change the landscape. It was as if someone had repainted the view while they had been sheltering. He could not understand Michael's earlier fears: sure, it was unusual, but it was still beautiful. He looked down as Summer took his hand.
“You agree with me, right? It's not so bad, is it?”
Summer replied with his typical enigmatic smile.
“Hey! Have you built a snowman?” he crouched down, starting to sweep snow into a pile. “I'll show you how it's done.”
From the tree line, Saffron watched them playing in the snow with a smile. She turned to Michael.
“Still think that's a monster out there?” she enquired.
“Which one?” he retorted. “Because right now I'm not sure about either of them. I mean, you’re bothered by this, aren't you?” He gestured to the ground.
She nodded. “Yes, but what can we do? Zephyr's right: there is no use in worrying about something we can't affect. Maybe there is something wrong going on, but where do you start to undo it?”
“You're right. It's not our problem,” he said, but he did not sound happy about it.
Saffron bent down and picked up a handful of snow. Thoughtfully she moulded it in her hands until it was a rough sphere. It would be cruel, she decided, to interrupt the snowman building, but she had a perfect shot at the back of his head. She drew back her hand and let the snowball fly. Its arched trajectory was dead on target and hit with a wet splat.
“Good shot,” Amari commented from behind her. “But you didn’t put enough force behind it. You need to do it like this.”
She released her own snowball. Zephyr was just turning to see where the first one had come from and it hit him square in the forehead, making him stagger slightly.
“Take cover!” he told Summer. They dived behind a small hillock and began to return fire in earnest.
It was not long before cold fingers and wet clothes led to a cease-fire. Jack had managed to find enough wood that was dry enough to burn and had lit a small fire to heat tea. Amari slipped off a short distance away to change out of her wet clothes, but Saffron had grown out of any shame a long time ago. She noticed that Michael was pointedly not watching: clearly he had seen enough in the Folk camp.
As they sat, huddled together drinking tea, Zephyr decided life did not get much better than this. He looked across at Amari and noticed her pensive expression.
“Are you okay, Songbird?”
She looked up with a start, then nodded. “I’m okay. I guess it’s just sinking in that I’ve probably severed ties with my old life completely.”
He squeezed her hand gently. “Not completely. You’ve still got me, right?”
She rested her head against his shoulder. “Yeah, I’ve still got you.” She began to hum a nostalgic melody quietly to herself. Zephyr listened curiously.
“What was that?” he enquired.
“It’s called ‘prayer for a child’,” she replied. “I remember my mother singing it when I was small. I’ve forgotten most of the words, but I still remember the tune.”
“Sing it again,” he requested, taking out his flute. She complied and after a moment he began to join in. At first he just followed her tune, but soon he was picking out a complicated counter-melody. The effect was beautiful and haunting. He was very talented, she realised.
“It’s hard to see why music is so feared, hearing something like that,” she said out loud.
He nodded. “I know. But that will change one day, I’m sure. One day, people will play freely in the streets, or travel the country entertaining in inns and castles. I don’t know how long it will take, but I hope I live to see it happen.”
