Kit: Ok so this is chapter 3 I will try to update once a week so I can make my chapters longer
Disclaimer: I own now of the characters.
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The Beechen were a foolish, stubborn, savage people. Five falls past; they had driven out almost all of their divins – the leaders of their villages – as well as the divins' apprentices. Christine had heard stories of the divins and their families fleeing Beech with little more than packs of hastily grabbed clothes or food. They now lived in exile in Trant or in the mountain province Even the Masters, powerful divins chosen to advise the Magus, couldn't enter Beech safely. The Beechian Masters had o live with the Magus in the Capital city.
Since the first autumn of the exile, many men and women from throughout he Magus provinces, including Christine's two elder brothers, had died trying to make the Beechians take back their divins and their masters. But the Beechians did not seem to miss their divins' high magic and authority, and so the fighting dragged on and on.
Christine shook away thoughts of Beechians and the real war being fought to the north. A keeten must keep her eyes on the battle before her. At least for now, the skirmish needed all her attention. "Who's-" Christine stopped, hearing a crackle of branches. She could feel Meg stiffen beside her.
She and Meg looked out into the forest. Not far from their tree walked Christine's two younger brothers. The boys were circling the trees and peering into brush piles, as if searching for someone. Christine bit down hard on her lip to keep from cursing. Her brothers hadn't been in the skirmish earlier because Mam had sent them to dig up arrowroots. Before the boys had come to he forest they might have stopped at the farmhouse. If they stopped at the farmhouse, they might have seen Mam. And if they had seen Mam they would have a message for Christine, and Christine knew what the message would be: Get your backside home.
As the boys walked past the needle tree, Christine held as still as she was able. She was sure they would see her; the stockier, younger one, Temmethy, seemed to look right at her. But as he did so, he wiry elder boy, Athon, whispered something in his ear. Temmethy punched Athon's arm, and they started to scuffle. Though he boys arguments usually annoyed Christine, she began to grin.
