Disclaimer I do not own anything to do with the Kingdom of Valdemere or anything else that can be recognised as Mercedes Lackey's creation. I lay claim only to the characters that I have created.
Justeen walked toward the hearth, shivering and trying in vain to pull the sides of the too small shirt together over the equally thin undershirt she was wearing. The tiny branches that she had put on the fire less then half a candlemark ago were nothing but glowing embers that gave off little heat. She quickly checked her two little brothers, who were sleeping on a low pallet next to the fireplace. She drew the careworn blanket a little closer around their thin shoulders before turning her attention back to the fire.
She gazed for a moment at the single piece of split wood that waited beside the fire. This was the last of the firewood that her older brother Turner had chopped three months earlier before he left looking for work. She sighed deeply, her pluming out of her mouth in the chill air of the house. Dillan chose that moment to begin coughing, a deep, body shaking cough that jarred his whole body. Justeen knelt beside the small boy, rubbing his back and trying to soothe him back to sleep when his eyes flickered reluctantly open. Finally the cough subsided and his eyes drifted slowly shut again. Justeen stood, rubbing one hand against her temple. She knew she had to warm the house as much as she could, for Dillan's sake. If only she hadn't burnt so much wood earlier in the fall… Justeen shook her head, trying to shake off the insidious feeling of guilt. The fall had been cold, and she had expected Turner home within the month, but still…
She set that last piece on the fire, adding some of the larger sticks that she had managed to salvage from the woods. Turner had taken the axe with him, since he was trying to find a job helping to clear land. The only saw that they had was a half a handsaw, with the handle bound on by grapevine, and it took so long to cut wood with that that she couldn't keep up with the amount of wood they needed. She snapped what wood she could with her feet, then she would drag larger pieces into the house, spending most of the night trying to saw chunks off that she could throw on the fire.
For a moment, Justeen stood over her tiny brothers, watching the firelight play light and shadow over their straw coloured hair. Then slowly and painfully, she settled back onto the drafty floor. Her body ached with the cold for she had given her warmest clothes to Dillan and Kholer and her stomach ached with hunger for she hadn't eaten the day before. There had been only enough to give to the boys, and tomorrow there would be nothing.
She made to brush her hair from her face in a habitual motion, only to realize that it was no longer long enough to get in her way. She had sold the auburn locks to a travelling peddler for a day or so of food a couple of weeks back. A tiny tear made its way down her angular cheek for her hair had been her only vanity, the only part of her body that she had been proud of. She picked up the tiny chunk of saw and began the rhythmic sawing motion that took up so many of her nights. The motion kept her body occupied, but her mind free and the demons raced up, vying for position in the quiet, cold hovel. There was nothing in the house to distract her, for they had long since sold the few books they had owned. There was nothing but her own mind
To keep the demons at bay, she forced her mind into her favourite daydream. Justeen stretched in the warm morning sun, revelling in the rays striking her body through the window, revelling in the warmth. She rose slowly, knowing that her mother would have a large breakfast ready for her. She forced her mind to think nothing else, would allow no other sensation into the world that she had created. After sitting at the table with her whole family, Justeen would take the short walk to the temple, settling in to listen to the priest teach the daily lesson. There, the kind and gentle-handed priest praised her for her work. On the way home there was the sound of hooves, and just like in the books…
A cry shattered her reverie; she dropped the saw and rushed over to the boys. Kholer was rigid, head thrown back and face a mask of terror in the eerie light of the fire. He was in the throws of yet another nightmare. Justeen stripped her shirt off to wrap around his form as she gathered his tiny, thin form to herself. She rocked back and forth, sitting on the crumbling edge of the hearth and crooning nonsense songs to him in her croaky voice. Racking sobs made his body shudder as he clung to her with desperation. Silent, helpless, hopeless tears rolled down her own cheeks, dripping onto her arm, which she had moved to shield his head from her weakness.