AN: Thank you soooo much for all your fabulous reviews- they're the reason I'm writing at 3 am because I'm excited to update this fic XD. Sorry it's been so long- there is a reason. I have been in my school's production of "The Crucible," which has been hard-work, and a lot of fun. Sadly we closed last night TT_TT Anyway, at least I get to return to what matters in life- fanfiction. I do warn you though, I'm starting Tennis try-outs tomorrow, so my schedule is as packed as usual! Also very proud because I managed to get one of my friends to decide to read Ingo! Yay- now on with the story.
It's late when I hear the whispering. "Fistena dos ha ni, myrghik kerenza, fistena dos ha ni. Come to us, dear little girl, come to us." I barely notice the fact that I understand the language, I'm trying to sleep. "I'm not a little girl," I mumble, and roll over. The voices persist. " Fistena dos ha ni." Slowly, hypnotically, I find myself listening. The voices are soft and whispering, like breeze through the leaves. It's a soft, gentle soothing lullaby, and I close my eyes to listen to it. When I open them, I find myself standing in the kitchen. I shudder slightly, and look down at myself. When did I get dressed?
My feet drag themselves somewhere, slowly, but steadily. I don't know where I'm going as I leave the cottage, leave the garden, but I want to get there now. The route I am taking feels familiar- is it the way to the cove? No, I don't take the same path. I'm going up the cliff, not down, and finally, I stop. I am at the foot of a colossal tree. I think it's an oak, and it's trunk is three times as wide as I am. It has long, sturdy branches which writhe upwards, as though they want to snatch the moon straight from it's seat in the sky. I feel a beautiful, warm peace descend over me. Suddenly, effortlessly, my arms and legs are hoisting me up the tree, pulling me from bough-to-bough, until I'm the uppermost branches. I can feel the warm summer night air caressing my face, and if I look upwards, the night is clear enough for me to see countless stars. I sit there for a while, and then turn to look down- when I almost fall out of the tree in surprise. Standing on the bough below me is the woman we met at the bonfire, Granny Carne.
"Kerenza," she says bye way of a greeting.
"Granny Carne," I say, still stunned, "when did you get here?"
She smiles. "Maybe I never left. Strange to see a Trewhella so deep in Norvys."
Norvys, it's a strange word, and yet I somehow understand it- Earth. I don't say anything. She smiles at me again.
"The Trewhella scales have tipped," she continues, "the blood is unequal."
I am still utterly confused. "What do you mean?" I ask, puzzlement etched on my face.
She chuckles softly. "Your father and his sister had balances to strike and choices to make. You, though, my dear, your choice was never there. Your path is carved."
I blink. That didn't really clarify anything. I turn back down to tell her so, but all I see is a large tawny owl flying into the distance.
Rowan shows up at the cottage around lunch time.
"Um, hello," I say.
"Right, let's get down to it," she says, pushing past me, and grabbing my arm to haul me upstairs, to busy for greetings.
"Get down to what?" I ask as perplexed as I was last night.
She sighs, and turns to face me, arms crossed. "Fixing you?"
"Fixing me? For what?"
"For my party, of course!"
Rowan's fifteenth, of course- it's tonight. "Yeah, okay- why do I need fixing?"
She sighs again. "Kerenza," she draws out my name, "us lot round here, we've lived here all our lives, as have most of our parents. We don't get out of Cornwall much. Now when I told everyone you were coming, well that sparked excitement! You're from the big bad city-"
"Hampstead isn't really so-"
She ignores me and carries on. "Everyone wants to see how people do things in the real world. We want your big city grace, glamour, style-"
"Rowan!" I cry, "I'm the girl that managed to wear the same pair of jeans every single day for seven months straight, and only got rid of them after they frayed so badly that the leg came off at the knee!"
She gives a sinister smirk. "I see. And that is why I shall fix you."
"Rowan," I say slowly, "don't. You. Dare."
Wordlessly, she starts pulling a variety of torture instruments from her bag.
Compromises have been made. I managed to evade most of the make-up, which I hate because my face feels strange with it on, except for a little eyeliner. Rowan has, however, managed to force me into a burgundy minidress, but only on the condition that I can wear my black leggings with it. The shoes were less easily solved. Rowan produced an utterly terrifying pair of six-inch red stilettos, whilst I stuck adamantly to my worn black trainers. I think Rowan was prepared to tackle me and strap the shoes to my feet, but thankfully, she settled for a pair of sequined black flats that Aunt Saph produced from somewhere. We were now bickering over hairstyles. I wanted to just tie it back, whereas Rowan had an elaborate bun-plait hybrid thing in mind.
"But it gives you panache," said Rowan pleadingly.
"I don't want panache, I want to be able to feel like I haven't undergone botox because my hair is pulled so tightly!"
"Girls," suggests Aunt Sapphire, "why don't you just leave it loose? You'll have to go soon, Rowan can't be late to her own party."
We both mutter in dissatisfaction, but let it go.
Aunt Saph waves us off then, and I feel a sudden fist of anxiety clench my insides.
"What's the matter?" asks Rowan curiously.
"I don't know any of your friends, and, well, you know, it's probably a bit awkward..."
Rowan looks puzzled, like she couldn't imagine being at a party with a bunch of strangers could ever be a problem. Then again, for her, it probably couldn't. "Just relax," she says, "there's not that many of them, and hardly any of them bite."
I roll my eyes at her, but she laughs, and hauls me along.
"Around here," she says, "we all have our parties down the beach. There's not much else to do. Hopefully, we can get a bonfire started before the others arrive."
We get all the way down to the bottom of the hill, catch the bus to St. Piran's and reach a quieter stretch of the beach. Rowan has already gathered a large pile of driftwood, and I watch as she lights it. It's beautiful, the fire. The orange flames dance upwards, and closer to the wood, the flames are a peculiar green-blue. Rowan tells me it's from the salt in the wood. I'm just starting to relax, when a group of about seven teenagers appear scrambling down the beach.
I instantly tense up again, but Rowan jumps to her feet and starts waving like a wild thing, her red tresses flying in the breeze.
She runs to greet them, and there's laughs and hugs all round. Then she says: "Hey Kerrie, c'mere!"
I make my way over awkwardly, trying not to make eye contact with anyone person in particular, but Rowan's on a rampage. "Everyone, this is Kerenza Trewhella, Kerrie, this is everyone."
A lanky boy with shaggy hair and light eyes laughs. "Way to be specific, Ro. I'm Blythe-" he extends a hand, which I shake- "and this is Caiden." A muscular boy with dark curls and a crooked smile nods at me. "The midget-"
"Oi!" a short boy punches Blythe in the arm. He looks so comical, standing next to Blythe, who looks about six-foot-six. He grins at me, his bright eyes sparkling. "I'm Conan."
"As in the barbarian?" I ask, smiling a little.
The whole group laughs, and one of the girls, a very pretty one, lithely built with thick dusky hair, says: "See, you nailed him right off the bat! I'm Ailla, by the way, pleasure to meet you!"
I shake her hand, and then another girl, who looks almost exactly like Ailla, but with a birthmark shaped like France on her left cheek, steps forward and says: "Yes, and I'm her twin, before you ask. Nessa." She doesn't seem particularly warm, but I shake her hand nonetheless.
The last two girls introduce themselves as Elowen and Jenifer, before Rowan finally gets bored, and demands that Conan help her sort out the snacks and the cooler before her mum arrives with the cake. Elowen and Jenifer start a light conversation into which Conan and Rowan keep offering various interjections, and Ailla turns and strikes up conversation with Caiden. They both giggle a lot. Nessa sits on the other side of Caiden, but doesn't say much, and keeps casting sour glances at her twin. I feel a little awkward witnessing this slightly obvious love triangle, but Blythe comes and plonks himself next to me.
He offers me a ginger beer, which I accept gratefully, and starts telling me about the first time he went cliff-jumping. Soon enough, everyone lapses into a loud conversation, shouting and laughing across the bonfire. I feel a warmth spread across me, and it's not because of the flames.
I feel warm, happy, solid, as if this moment could last forever.
Then I feel a pull in the back of my head, a feeling like I'm being watched. A voice inside me whispers: "Kerenza."
I feel a chill as I look over my shoulder towards the ocean. I know the figure I see peeking out from behind the rocks, I know the voice in my head.
Carrow.
